At Risk

by Kit Ehrman

  * * *

  Toward the end of the day, I set my grooming tote on the ground outside Chase's stall. As soon as the realization that I was going to do something with him seeped into his tiny brain, he pinned his ears flat against his head. I unlatched his door, and he swung sideways so he could shift his hindquarters toward me. I grabbed the noseband on his halter and stopped him before he had the chance. He curled his neck around and tried to sink his teeth into my arm.

  "You stupid son of a bitch," I muttered. His ear flicked at the sound of my voice.

  I threaded the chain shank through his halter and cross-tied him in the center of his stall. I hadn't groomed him for three days, but damned if his coat didn't shine like copper. He was one beautiful horse. Too bad his mind was screwed. He bobbed his head as I worked the curry comb in small circles down his neck.

  "Who's this?"

  I turned around. Rachel was grinning at me through the grillwork. "Cut to the Chase," I said. "He's an open jumper."

  "Kind of nasty, isn't he?"

  "Yeah. But with his talent, nobody cares."

  "Humph, poor thing. He seems so unhappy."

  I snorted.

  "What do you think his problem is?"

  "Life."

  "Steeve . . ."

  I paused and considered him. Wrinkles creased the skin around his worried eyes, and his jaw was tight with tension. Hell. His entire body was tense.

  "Damned if I know," I said. "He's hell on the ground, totally unpredictable, but point him at a jump, and he's one happy puppy. It's like he was born to it." I ran my hand down his neck, and he ground his teeth. "He lives for it."

  "Hum. Looks like he lives for getting a piece of your hide between those molars of his."

  "Yeah, but he can't help himself. If I discipline him, he gets worse, he's so strung up." I sighed. "He'll kick you as soon as look at you."

  She groaned. "And you're the lucky one who gets to do him."

  "I'm the only one who gets to do him. He's gotten used to me a little. I really think he hates men."

  "So, why not have a girl groom him?"

  "Right now, we don't have any girls on the weekday crew. Only the weekend."

  "I pity whoever rides him," Rachel said.

  "Oh, he's not so bad then, 'cause he knows he'll be jumping."

  "So, did you have a nice day slopping around in the rain and mud?" She wrapped her fingers around the metal bars and grinned at me. She had a great smile. Straight, white teeth, gorgeous lips, a dimple in her left cheek.

  "Cute, Rachel."

  "No matter how awful the weather is," she said, "I love getting away from the office. Where I work, we don't have any windows. None you can see out of, anyway. That's one reason why I like riding so much, being outside and doing something physical. Maybe that's his problem."

  Maybe that was my problem. I sure wouldn't have minded doing something physical with her.

  ". . . And an indoor arena makes it even better." She reached up and worked her hair into a ponytail. "Where I boarded last, the footing was lousy most of the year. The ground was either frozen, sloppy with mud, or dry and hard as rock. I couldn't work on anything consistently."

  I knocked the curry against the wall and dislodged a build-up of dirt. "Do you show?"

  "Only at local shows. And when I can bum a ride off someone Well, I'd better get going. I left Koby tacked up in his stall." She adjusted a pair of headphones over her ears. "Music helps me concentrate," she said when she noticed me watching her.

  From what I'd seen, she didn't need help in that department. She tuned out everything when she rode. I, on the other hand, was thoroughly distracted by her and found concentrating on anything else difficult when she was around.

  After I transferred Chase into Anne's capable hands, I grained the horses, then went in search of Rachel. She had finished cooling out her horse and was in the tack room. I leaned against the locker next to hers and watched her stow her gear. Her face was damp with sweat, and loose wisps of hair clung to the back of her neck. She bent over and rifled through the clutter in the back of her locker. Her britches clung tightly to the full curves and narrow crease of her backside, and there was a nice gap between her thighs. I wanted to take her in my arms and kiss her. Wanted to feel her body against mine. She squatted back on her haunches and looked up at me. A quizzical expression crossed her face, and I supposed I must have appeared odd just standing there.

  I rubbed my face and relaxed the muscles in my jaw. "Is Thursday still good for you?"

  "Yes." She stood up. "I think so. Where were you just now?"

  "Wanting to kiss you," I said.

  "Oh." She turned her back to me and slid the lock through the clasp on her locker, then pushed the shaft down into the housing and spun the dial. Strange, even ordinary, everyday things could be exceedingly sexual.

  She turned back around. We were standing close. I could smell her scent, imagined that I could feel her breath on my skin. The air around us felt curiously charged, enveloping us in a private world without sound. Her gaze rose slowly to my face. I brushed her bangs from her eyes and felt the dampness of her skin beneath my fingertips. I rested my hands on her shoulders and kissed her lightly on the lips. When I straightened and dropped my arms to my sides, I was no longer breathing normally. She smiled briefly, then lifted her jacket off the bench that separated the rows of lockers.

  I cleared my throat. "Tomorrow. Is four-thirty too early?"

  "No, that'll work." We made plans to meet at the farm, then she rooted around in her jacket pocket and pulled out her car keys. "I'd better go," she said, and there was a shyness to her smile that I found captivating.

  I watched her walk toward the parking lot. The place felt empty without her.