Son of a bitch. At the very least, that meant he had fence work to do. More importantly, however, if he didn’t do something immediately, as much as he would like to see Mamoon crushed in a stallion fight, he didn’t dare risk Gabrielle’s other stallion to that fate.
He slammed his mug down on the countertop and swore as hot coffee doused his hand. He dried his wrist on his jeans and bolted toward the door. There, he snatched his coat off the wall hook. Yanking it on, he charged out the door.
Stallion fights. Nothing could be more dangerous. Add in Mamoon’s temperament, and he was about to walk into a living nightmare. This shouldn’t be his responsibility. What the hell would Gabrielle do if she were alone?
Bounding over the deep drifts, his heart thudded with a combination of anxiety and apprehension. For all he knew, they’d already been at it, and both were now bleeding in the snow.
Goddamn it, this was exactly why he couldn’t stay with Gabrielle. No matter how he vowed not to get tangled up in horses, one way or the other, he would. If he refused, she’d only resent him. When that happened, whatever they shared now would come to a stop faster than he could blink.
The snow thickened as he approached the exterior paddock gate, and he stumbled, nearly landing face-first. He caught himself on the fence at the last minute, keeping everything except his left knee out of the cold accumulation. But the near fall only pissed him off further. Fucking horses. He’d still be inside, savoring his first cup of coffee for the day, if it weren’t for the stupid beasts.
At the gate, his hand stilled on the latch, surprise rooting him in place. What the—?
He squinted, trying to get a better view through the broken boards that divided the two paddocks. Yes, Mamoon was in with Rajiv. Yes, he’d crashed through the fence, and, judging by the dark stain on a jagged board, he probably had a substantial injury. But what opened his eyes like saucers was the sight that lay before him.
Side by side, the two stallions grazed on the remnants of hay he’d thrown to Rajiv. Every now and then, one would swish a tail, grazing the other with the lazy motion. No ears flattened against polls. No squeals vied for status. No hooves flew with fury.
Completely and utterly content, the pair simultaneously lifted their heads to look his way. “Rajiv!” he belted, his hand outstretched.
Another lazy flick of his tail, and the bay stallion ambled forward to investigate what treat Jake might hold. At his heels, Mamoon followed. For the first time since he’d arrived on Gabrielle’s farm, the chestnut stallion bore an air of complacency. He didn’t hurry, he didn’t jostle Rajiv for positioning at the fence line.
He stood a foot away from the topmost wooden rail, watching Jake with the curiosity of a kitten. He took a tentative step forward, then another, and a third until his hot breath fell on Jake’s palm. Then, the temperamental horse nudged Jake’s hand, as if he sought some sort of affection.
What the—Christ, the horse truly had a bi-polar issue. Maybe that was his problem. Cross-firing synapses in his small brain. It would explain this uncustomary behavior as well as his eruptions.
Unable to ignore the incessant batting of his free hand, Jake stroked Mamoon’s nose at the same time he scratched Rajiv’s thick neck. As he petted the both of them, his gaze roved across their bodies, searching for injury. His stare stopped on a zigzag tear over Mamoon’s ribs. Blood trickled from the gaping wound, dotting the pristine snow with drops of crimson.
Fuck!
Sure as shooting, Gabrielle would insist on tending to the wound. Any good horsewoman would. Maybe he could squeak out of helping patch Mamoon if she contacted her best friend. With a vet’s expertise, Gabrielle wouldn’t need Jake’s assistance. He could return to the house, watch from the window, and enjoy that thwarted cup of coffee. As long as he could get a swift dose of caffeine, he’d even work in her barn for a while to make up for bailing out.
He gave Rajiv a more thorough once-over and his brows knit together. Not a single bump, swell, scratch, or patch of missing hair marred the stallion’s coat. Glancing back to Mamoon, he looked past the cut and found nothing else. Damned strange. God only knew how long the pair had been together, and yet seemingly they hadn’t clashed. Good news, but not what he’d expected from the psychotic Mamoon.
With a quick pat to each horse’s neck, he hurried back inside. Not bothering to take off his coat, he returned to Gabrielle’s bedroom and took a seat on the edge of the bed. “Sugar, wake up.”
A not so gentle shake to her shoulder brought her eyes open in an instant. Startled, she looked around. When her gaze settled on him, a sleepy smile wandered across her features. “Morning, handsome.”
“Call your vet. Your two stallions are in Rajiv’s paddock.”
Gabrielle bolted upright in bed. “Rajiv!”
The blankets fell to her lap, making it impossible to ignore the exquisite picture she painted, fully nude. A memory of how perfectly her breasts fit into his palms erupted in his mind. His gut wound around with such ferocity he’d have sworn he’d been kicked in the stomach. As she rubbed her eyes and stretched, his cock answered with a potent twinge. He had to wind his hand in the comforter to quell the instinctive urge to push her back into the bed and indulge in everything she offered.
Get a grip, Sullivan. Jesus.
Swallowing, he focused on the problem at hand. “Rajiv is fine.”
Evidently, she didn’t believe him, for she scrambled from the bed in such a hurry the blankets wound around her ankles, tripping her. He caught her around the waist seconds before she went crashing into the ground. She landed in his lap, her bare bottom staring up at him. Unable to resist, he ran his palm over her buttocks.
Jake tamped down a reflexive groan and cursed silently again. What the hell was it about this woman that the mere sight of her bare skin overloaded his circuits and erased his ability to think about anything beyond how amazing it felt to be buried deep inside her? He couldn’t remember a time when his mind seemed so focused on sex.
Annoyed with himself, he helped her to her feet, anxious to be free of the troubling awareness. With a curt nod, he strode to the bedroom door. “I’ll be in the kitchen finishing my coffee. Call your friend.”
****
Gabrielle stared after Jake for a long moment, her feet rooted to the carpeting. Unease filtered through her. Something was off. Not completely out of place, but something definitely felt…weird. He’d hardly looked at her. No good morning welcome. No warm smile. Hell, he hadn’t even bothered to give her a quick kiss. And it wasn’t like she could attribute his distance to the horses. He’d hardly seemed concerned at all. Businesslike came to mind. Not just with the horses either.
She swallowed hard and shook off an uneasy chill. It had to be her imagination. She was just being paranoid after bringing up such a touchy subject last night. At any rate, she couldn’t worry about what had Jake upset. Likely, it was the prospect of dealing with an injured Mamoon. He had said Rajiv was fine.
She snatched clean clothes from her closet and rushed to the walkie talkie in her study. Pushing the button, she called, “Margie, I need a vet!”
Her best friend answered in record time. “What the hell happened?”
“I’m not sure. I haven’t seen it yet. Jake said the stallions are together and—”
From the kitchen, Jake called, “Mamoon needs stitches.”
“Did you hear that?”
Margie sighed through the receiver. “I heard it. But Gabrielle, I have no power. Even if I could get the truck over there—which is impossible—it won’t do a lick of good.”
Frustration rose. She glared at the walkie talkie before asking, “What’s power got to do with anything?”
“No power means I can’t keep my vet box plugged in. No heat. Everything inside the damn thing’s frozen solid. Do you still have the drugs I gave you when Ahlizara cut her leg?”
Gabrielle mentally scrolled through the contents of her refrigerator. With a slow nod, she replied, “Yeah. I
have Pen, and I can’t think of the other stuff you left. Starts with a D. And there’s a tube of Bute in my cabinet.”
“Can you stitch him up yourself? You’ve helped me enough times, I know you know the basics.”
Oh, holy crap. Stitch her own horse? Sure, she’d helped Margie dozens of times. But there was a distinct difference between stitching someone else’s and stitching her own. Especially Mamoon. Did she even have suture material?
“Margie, I can’t do that. Can’t you get over here? It’s less than a mile. Your truck is better than mine. I know I could get to your place if I needed to. I can’t possibly stitch my own horse. You haven’t seen this one. He’s—”
A large hand snaked around her. Strong fingers closed over the walkie talkie. Jake tugged it free and lifted it to his mouth. “Margie?”
“Oh, the infamous Jake. Good morning.”
Gabrielle stared wide-eyed. A flush crawled to her cheeks.
Jake chuckled. “We’ll get the horse stitched up. Soon as you can, come by and check our work. I assume Gabby has sutures here somewhere?”
Annoyance flickered through Gabrielle. Not so much at the use of the despised nickname—no that she was getting disturbingly used to. But Jake’s insistence on taking control of the matter set off alarm bells that rang a distinctive tune, all too similar to her father.
“I stuffed some in the blue cabinet in her barn last summer. Before she replaced the barbed wire, I was there daily sewing up horses.”
“All right. She’ll call if we need anything.”
Gabrielle folded her arms across her chest and glared at him as he dropped the walkie talkie back into its charger. “I can’t stitch up that horse.”
“Then I will.” He shrugged. “Come on.”
Fastening his hand around hers, he pulled her from the study.
Chapter Seventeen
Jake set the basket of supplies they’d gathered down in the barn aisle next to the cooler of hot water Gabrielle had prepared. Jaw clenched, he grabbed a halter and lead rope and shrugged out of his coat. If he had to fight a horse, he wanted the least restriction. That and, if he took a nose-dive in the snow—as he expected he might—he wanted something warm and dry to put back on.
Tend Mamoon. He snorted inwardly. He’d rather watch the horse bleed to death.
“Let’s go,” he barked. “My coffee’s waiting.”
Gabrielle’s scowl hadn’t disappeared at all, and her sour disposition contributed to his. What the hell did she have to be pissed off about? That her best friend couldn’t come on the drop of a dime? If that were the case, it was high time she learned to be self-sufficient when it came to horses. Sometimes a vet just couldn’t be had.
She stomped along behind him as he weaved his way from the back of the barn to Mamoon’s paddock. Head down, hands shoved into her coat, she didn’t even bother to look at him. That could, of course, have something to do with the fact he’d put his foot down and refused to let her try to catch the stallion. But if she’d just open her eyes and accept the fact Mamoon could throw her around like a feather, she’d see the reason in his insistence.
He pushed his way through the paddock gate, letting it clang shut behind him. “I’ll bring him into the barn. You can take him from there, and I’ll put the damn stitches in his hide.”
“Would you stop telling me what to do?” she snapped.
Half-way across the paddock, he paused mid-step, a retort on the tip of his tongue. He bit it back and clenched his jaw. No. He wasn’t going to acknowledge that remark. Not now, at least. They’d talk about it later. After this business with Mamoon was resolved. She had her panties in a knot, and he absolutely wasn’t in the mood to deal with a temperamental woman at the same time he wrestled a killer stallion.
Mamoon looked up at him from Rajiv’s side. His ears pricked in interest, his tail lazily grazed his right hip. Rajiv took a brief look, then lowered his head back to the hay sprawled out in front of them. But Mamoon didn’t look away. He watched every step Jake took.
Holding his breath, Jake advanced as he mentally prepared for whatever the stallion plotted in his pea-sized brain. But strangely, Mamoon didn’t so much as tense. He didn’t lift a solitary foot, and his interested expression didn’t change.
Jake approached his right side and set his hand on the horse’s shoulder. “Easy, boy.”
The horse dropped his nose and stuffed it under Jake’s elbow. What the hell? Where did this…affection…come from?
With a respectful pat to Rajiv’s shoulder to alert the other stallion he was close, Jake ducked under Mamoon’s head to his opposite side. He held out the halter, and to his absolute astonishment Mamoon put his nose through the band. Before the stallion could think of backing up and escaping, Jake quickly buckled the halter and snapped on the lead.
Two steps toward the barn, and true to form, Mamoon put up a fight. He rooted his feet to the ground and tossed his head.
“C’mon, asshole.” With an impatient tug on the lead, Jake urged the horse forward.
Mamoon obeyed, but none too willingly. He followed, his body tense, his steps full of resistance. At the gate, he took one look at Gabrielle, and his eyes went wide as saucers. She backed up, giving them room to pass, her expression a reflection of her horse’s.
At the back of the barn, Mamoon gave up all pretense of obedience and erupted. Rearing back on his powerful hind legs, he let out a squeal and yanked the lead rope out of Jake’s hand. In a whirlwind of motion, the horse bolted back the way they came, nearly knocking Gabrielle sideways as he sped past. He skidded to a stop in front of the paddock gate, screaming his damned head off, snow flying behind his dancing hooves.
“Open the gate!” Jake bellowed.
Cautiously, Gabrielle hurried around the stallion and flung open the paddock gate. Mamoon bolted inside, his demeanor abruptly changing as he rejoined the still-eating Rajiv.
Hands on his hips, Jake stared at the scene. Anger rolled through him. But as he took a step, intending on storming back into the paddock, his mother’s voice filtered through his head and he hesitated.
The cat keeps him company. He’s so much easier to work with.
At the time, Jake had laughed at his mother’s explanation as to why she’d framed up Mamoon’s stall, thus trapping one of their resident barn cats inside. Two days later, she’d installed a window seat on the stallion’s run-out door, complete with food and water bowl neatly confined away from any nosey horse’s investigative ability. About a week later, he’d observed that the cat had no fear of the horse and slept in his damn food bowl nine times out of ten.
It had sounded a bit too fantastic. Looked more like his mother was grasping at straws to justify keeping the damn horse around while she tried to train him. It still sounded a bit too much like Seabiscuit for him to give the theory too much credence.
But right now he’d try about anything to get that damn horse inside so he could be done with the entire ordeal.
“Gabrielle, get Rajiv.”
She gave him another one of her You’ve lost your mind looks, but she stalked past him into the barn and returned with a halter and lead rope in her hand.
“What are you doing?” she asked as she joined him at the gate.
“You get Rajiv. I’m getting Mamoon. We’ll tie your older stallion in the aisle and work on Mamoon.”
She scowled. “The last thing I want to do is stand between two stallions and try to stitch one.”
He exhaled in exasperation and flung his hand to the paddock. “Do they look like they are inclined to fight? For God’s sake, they’ve been together long enough that if they were going to, they would. They’re sharing hay, and there’s an entire field of mares beyond that hotwire.”
“Whatever,” she muttered. “This is a bad idea, Jake.”
He pushed a hand through his hair with a sigh. “Just…work with me. I’m not going to let you get hurt. Why do you think I’m out here in the first place?”
Disbelief f
lashed across her eyes, but she entered the paddock and trudged through the thick snow to catch Rajiv. Jake followed at a slower pace. Could he really guarantee Gabrielle wouldn’t get hurt? What if this entire harebrained idea backfired in his face? She was right—confining two stallions in the narrow expanse of her barn aisle bordered on stupid. He’d have reamed his stable hands and clients if he’d ever walked into his barn and seen the scene he was coordinating. He’d have probably fired his stable help, for that matter.
No, he wasn’t wrong about this. Couldn’t be. Though he’d laughed heartily at his mother, it was the only time in her life she’d ever made such a ridiculous observation. There had to be a degree of truth in her logic. And judging from the complacency Mamoon exhibited while with another horse, it sure as hell looked true. Buddies. The horse needed a goddamn buddy. Jake wasn’t naive enough to believe having a companion would cure Mamoon of his psychotic tendencies, but as long as it worked to doctor the jerk, he’d embrace the theory.
Approaching the stallion, Jake encountered the same quiet attitude, the same willingness to accept capture. At his side Gabrielle stood with Rajiv in hand. Her senior stallion looked exceptionally bored with all the fuss. Mamoon edged sideways away from her, one eye trained on her petite form, mistrust reflected in the dark depths.
“You go first,” Jake instructed.
He didn’t miss her unintelligible mutter as she escorted Rajiv past. Yep, if this failed, he’d have hell to pay. That was blatantly obvious. “Don’t make an ass out of me,” he mumbled to Mamoon as he fell into step behind Gabrielle.
Unlike the previous attempt, Mamoon didn’t so much as tighten a single muscle. He followed along, head dangling loosely, more than content to follow Rajiv out of the paddock and around to the back of the barn. There, however, Mamoon blew Jake’s theory all to hell. Despite the fact Rajiv quietly stepped into the barn, Mamoon threw the same fit as before. This time, Jake was prepared for the eruption, and he managed to hold onto the lead rope. But Mamoon danced and reared, screamed and bucked, absolutely refusing to take a single step inside the barn.
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