him, pulling the blanket around her to keep her warm. A couple minutes later Corfu, the dog Tanner had given her months ago when she’d been heartbroken with loss, came wandering out of the barn and sat down contentedly at Tanner’s feet.
“I don’t think I could ever get tired of this view,” she said, sipping on her coffee as he rocked them both.
His arms tightened around her. “Really? I would’ve thought you would want to see the world. Journey to all the places you never got to go because the Organization was hunting you.”
“I will. There’s lots of time to get to all those places.” She smiled. “I’m not as old as you, you know—the Grim Reaper is not quite ringing my doorbell just yet. I’ve got plenty of time to see the places I want to see.”
She expected him to tickle her or rub her back at the old-age comment, but he didn’t.
Finally she nudged him. “Did I wear you out too much last night? Got you coming to grips with your own mortality? Do I need to go get your walker?”
Now she definitely expected him to pick her up and throw her over his shoulder and take her back to bed. Tanner might be ten years older than her, but he was definitely one of the fittest and most able-bodied people she knew. Their difference in age had never really been an issue.
“My job doesn’t leave me a lot of time to journey the world,” he finally said.
She tried to scoot back in his lap so she could look in his eye, but he kept her tucked up against him. “Well, I’m not planning on quitting my job and becoming a nomad. Now more than ever I want to be in Risk Peak.”
“Because of the shelter?”
“New Journeys.”
“What?” he asked.
“It’s funny that you would mention traveling and journeys because that’s what Cass and I decided to name the shelter in the grant proposal. New Journeys. That’s what it is for so many of these women. A new start. A chance to go somewhere they’ve never been.”
“It’s a great name. And the new building...” He faded off.
Once again she was struck by his lack of enthusiasm. It was like he wanted to support this new change, but something was holding him back.
“I know it’s going to be a lot of work, but I’m up to it.”
“Believe me, I never doubted that you were up to it,” he said.
She broke away from his hold and leaned back so she could look into his eyes. “Then what? Obviously there’s more to what you’re thinking.”
He took in a deep breath. “Just, someone is going to need to live there, full-time, right? I thought you might want that.”
She could feel her brows furrow as she tried to take in what he was saying. She’d been living here at the ranch since he’d gotten out of the hospital three months ago. It had started as her being here because he needed someone to help him recuperate. But, just like Tanner’s mother had predicted, there’d been no talk of Bree ever moving back out again.
Until right now.
But maybe Mrs. Dempsey had been wrong. Maybe Tanner was ready to have his space back. Bree hadn’t made any plans to live at the New Journeys building—she and Cassandra had already found a young, single mother who would make an excellent facilitator for the building. They’d approached Marilyn even before applying for the grant since neither Bree or Cassandra would be able to live at the shelter full-time.
Or so Bree had thought.
She knew Tanner loved her, and she loved him. But they’d never really talked about any specifics of how their relationship would play out long term.
“I—”
“Love doesn’t—”
They both started speaking at the same time, then both stopped.
“You go,” he said. “Love doesn’t what? Say what you need to say.”
Bree shrugged. She didn’t want to make this awkward, although that seemed to be her superpower. “Love doesn’t always mean marriage and settling down and having kids. I know that. I don’t expect that.”
It was what she wanted, sure, but she didn’t need a ring or a white dress to know that Tanner loved her.
She looked more closely at his face and realized she had said something very wrong. His features weren’t cold, but they definitely lacked the warmth and welcome she’d always had from him.
She swallowed hard, a ball of dread forming in her belly. “Tanner, I’m sorry. I said something wrong, didn’t I?” Damn her inability to process emotions like other people. “I love you.”
Some of the cool melted from his brown eyes. He brought his thumb up and trailed it down her cheek. “I know you do, freckles. And I love you. I want you to be able to do all the things you want to do.”
There was nothing she wanted to do without him. “There are things I want to do, but—”
Tanner muttered a soft curse as his phone began buzzing on the porch rail next to his coffee.
“Hold that thought,” he muttered as he grabbed the phone. “I’m on call so I have to take this.”
The way she’d already butchered this conversation it was probably best for them to completely restart it anyway.
“I’ll go inside and start breakfast,” she muttered, getting off his lap. He looked like he wanted to argue but the phone buzzed again so he just nodded.
Good. Maybe she could figure out how to fix what she was trying to say.
* * *
TANNER GRABBED HIS phone as he watched the woman he loved, the same woman who just said that love didn’t equal marriage—bundle herself into her blanket and walk inside the house.
That talk hadn’t gone the way he’d planned.
He hit the receive button with far more force than necessary. “Tanner Dempsey.”
“Tanner, it’s Richard Whitaker.”
“Hey, Whitaker. I thought you were taking some vacation time and heading back to Dallas. Are you in Grand County already?” Whitaker was the other deputy captain of the Grand County Sheriff’s Department.
“No, I actually just got off the phone with Sheriff Duggan. I’m going to be taking a little more leave, helping out here. Dallas has a serial killer, Tanner.”
Tanner winced and gave a dry laugh at the same time. “You always did complain there wasn’t enough action around here.”
“Believe me, this particular case is more action than I ever wanted to deal with.”
It almost seemed like the man was asking for his help. “You calling me for backup?”
Tanner couldn’t imagine many scenarios where he would be tremendously helpful for a murder investigation in Dallas.
“We do need help. In a big way.” Whitaker’s voice was strained. “This is personal for me. One of the victims was a girl from my old neighborhood.”
Tanner straightened. He and Whitaker might not have always seen eye to eye, especially since a few months ago the man had thought Tanner was responsible for three murders, but Tanner would still do whatever he could to help him.
The fact that Whitaker was calling him at all spoke volumes.
“Richard, what do you need?”
“Actually, I need Bree. We’re on a strict countdown—literally—and she may be the only one with the computer skills we need. The killer is sending live footage of the victim, and that’s the only thing we’ve got to go on.”
Tanner