Texas Wishes: The Complete Series

by Kristina Knight

  Trick dropped down on his knees, running his hands up Jinx’s leg, pressing gently, prodding, gauging the horse’s reactions. Jinx flinched when Trick pushed into the hide just above his knee. The muscles in his sides clenched when Trick’s hands moved up the leg to the hip area. He didn’t cry out.

  All in all, it could be worse. Trick said as much.

  “I’ll check in on him weekly. But, Monica, I think this season is over for Jinx.”

  “It’s bruising. The vet in Utah said as much.” The words were plea as much as statement. She wanted to get back out on the road, he knew. Away from him. Away from the ranch. Away from the ties she tried so hard not to feel.

  “I agree. The deep bruising I felt just now is in line with the X-rays I saw two days ago. He needs the therapy pool, an hour or so every day. He needs room to walk — no riding for now. I’d say he’ll be ready for gentle riding in six weeks or so.” Trick held up his hand when Monica would have interrupted. He kept his gaze focused on her, needing her to hear his next words. Accept them. Because from what he could see now, Jinx would never race again. “Six weeks, at least. The bruising to his hip is very deep; he’s strained his knee. It’s not great.” Fear laced Monica’s green gaze and he fought to keep his hands at his sides. “I’m sorry.”

  She didn’t reply.

  He turned his attention to Kathleen, who would give his instructions to the other trainers. “Six weeks, daily pool therapy, and he might run again. He’s never going to be a barrel racer again, and he probably shouldn’t be used as a cow horse. Light riding, gentle care.”

  Concern lay under Kathleen’s voice. “Are you sure?”

  Trick shrugged. “I’ve been surprised by horses before. He’s exhausted right now, after the ride in from Utah … ”

  “I took it slow.” Monica interrupted.

  “Slow was good, but it was still a lot of jostling at a time when he needed steady ground under his hooves.” Hurt flashed in her eyes, surprising him. He’d expected anger, especially after the phone call the day before. She made it clear she expected him to try to keep Jinx from competing, telling him that wouldn’t keep her in Lockhardt. But hurt? Trick wanted to back up, pull her into his arms and tell her she did everything right. He couldn’t do that. If she had stayed in Lockhardt, if she’d allowed one tiny portion of her life to become entangled with another person, this wouldn’t have happened.

  “I’ll come out in a day or so and do a more thorough exam. We’ll get new X-rays next week. Right now, he needs rest; he needs the water.”

  “We’ll make sure he gets it.” Kathleen motioned to Mat. “Will you help me get a stall ready for him in the barn? Monica, give us fifteen minutes before you bring him up.” She and Mat moved off toward the horse barn, heads bent together as they spoke.

  Trick turned to Monica. “Before you get all emotional about your horse’s rodeo future and my diagnosis, I think you did an amazing job with him in the ring. Nothing you did caused him extra pain.”

  “Not even starting him cross country two days after the fall?” The words were quiet. She folded her arms over her chest, as if holding in some emotion that scared her more than the bull in the ring.

  Trick frowned. If he’d made the choice, she wouldn’t have. But Kathleen and her staff were amazing trainers and the facilities on the Double Diamond among the best in the country, so it was possible no further harm had been done that couldn’t be mended. He reached out to take her hand, to reassure her that Jinx would be okay, but Monica pulled away.

  “Not here.”

  “It was a handshake, Monica. I wasn’t going to accost you in the middle of the ranch.”

  She pushed her hat back on her head. Looked up at him through those clear, green eyes. “I know. I … ”

  He reached out, traced her jawline with his index finger. Heat flared deep in the depths of her gaze. “You didn’t cause any more harm to Jinx. If anyone can work a miracle on him, it’s your sister.”

  She stared up at him for a long minute and then moved around him, toward the trailer. “Will you help me with something in here?”

  Trick followed and was barely inside the trailer when Monica launched herself into his arms.

  “Did you miss me?” She whispered the words against his mouth, nibbled his lower lip. Trick knew it was a rhetorical question. He knew Monica would go running into the Texas afternoon if he answered with one hundred percent honesty. So for the first time today he kept his big mouth shut — figuratively speaking — and fell into the moment.

  Her mouth was hot on his, demanding. Mad at her or not for risking her life in that bull pen, he couldn’t resist her. Trick dug his hands into her hair, breaking the elastic at her nape in the process. Monica wrapped one leg around his, pushing herself against him, as if their bodies might become one hot, writhing unit. Trick pushed his tongue between her lips, wanting to taste more of her.

  Their teeth clicked together and Monica chuckled. “God, I’ve missed you.”

  Trick pushed her against the side of the trailer. “Really? Because you didn’t even want a handshake ten seconds ago,” he said between kisses. He smelled coconut in her hair, bananas on her skin, and despite the overpowering aroma of cooped-up horse, the trailer was suddenly a tropical paradise.

  “You know the rules.” She panted and kissed her way along his jawline. He lifted her up by the hips until her legs were wrapped around his waist.

  Yeah, he knew the rules. No deep feelings, no firm commitments, no family involvement. They drove into Austin or San Antonio for dates, she stayed over at his place, and he was never invited to the Diamond for more than vet checks. On the occasional long weekend or during a break from the rodeo, he’d go to her place in Austin. Easy.

  Up until two weeks ago, it had been enough. Then he asked her to take a long weekend and she balked. Pride made him throw down the ultimatum that she stay. After seeing her in the ring with the bull, easy wasn’t nearly enough. He wanted more. He wanted to take her to dinner in town. Wanted to wake up with her wild hair spread over his pillows every morning. Wanted to come home to her every night.

  “This isn’t exactly the safest place in the world for hot, sweaty sex.”

  Monica pushed his hat off his head, dug her hands into his hair, and pulled his mouth fully against hers. She wound her legs more tightly around his waist as she trailed her fingers down his chest, opening first one button and then another of his western shirt. Trick’s vision clouded when her soft fingers grazed his chest.

  “We’re perfectly protected.” Kisses landed on his chest as she made her way down, down.

  This was so not the place for this. He wasn’t going to make love with Monica in the back of a horse trailer, no matter how hard up he felt right about now. She rocked against him and then trailed her tongue from his sternum to his collarbone. His hands pushed under her shirt, his fingers traced her ribs, and his thumbs sought out her nipples.

  They were hard, like the tiniest pebbles on the imaginary beach where everything smelled like Monica’s shampoo and soap. Her muscles twitched against his hands. She arched her back, pressing her core more firmly against his rock-hard erection. Trick’s toes curled against the hard soles of his boots.

  God, he wanted her. In the horse trailer. In the middle of the ranch yard. On a bed of silk. He needed Monica Witte like he needed air.

  And he couldn’t have her.

  Not here. Not now. Because any second, someone could walk by. The thought was arousing, but Trick pushed it away.

  He stood her back on her feet, took a single step back. “This isn’t a good idea.”

  “It’s the best one I’ve had today.”

  “We aren’t doing a trailer tango today. I don’t care if you strip naked and sing Faith Hill to me.” He pushed farther away, tucked the tails of his shirt back into his jeans, and grabbed h
is hat from the trailer floor.

  She scowled. “I’m not suggesting we drop down on the patio or have sex in the pool, Father Trickett.”

  “No, you’re suggesting we do the dance with no pants in the middle of your horse trailer, surrounded by horse shit, where anyone could walk by and blow your little secret sky high.”

  “We’re back to this again?”

  “We’ve never been far from it.” Trick slammed his hat down on his head. “I’ve been good enough to flirt with for the past year. Good enough to sleep with for the past seven weeks. Good enough to see a movie with or have the occasional sleepover. I’m not twelve. My mom doesn’t need to drive us to the Tasty Freeze for ice cream and your dad doesn’t need to pick us up after a church social.”

  “For the record, I know very well that you’re almost-thirty-year-old male biological clock is ticking. I could hear it all the way in Utah. I find it hard to keep my hands and lips off you all the time.” She swallowed. “But you know I’m not built for commitment.”

  “What I know is you’re so afraid of commitment you don’t like writing in pen. I’m not asking you to marry me, Monica. I’m asking you to treat this relationship like an adult, not like some dirty secret you have to hide from your dad after the homecoming game.”

  She measured him for a long moment. “Is this need for a grown-up relationship behind your diagnosis of my horse?”

  Trick slammed his hand against the side of the trailer and clenched his jaw at the pain. “God, you don’t let up, do you? No, my need for a grown-up relationship is not clouding my veterinary judgment. Is your fear of commitment clouding yours? Because last month, Jinx had a small mouth sore and you sat up with him all night. Five minutes ago, he could barely put weight on that back leg and you’re eager to put in him back in the ring? Why is that? Afraid of what you might feel if you stay in Lockhardt for more than a night?” He watched her for a long moment. Monica opened her mouth to speak, but then snapped her jaw closed again. He took a step forward. “My diagnosis of Jinx has nothing to do with your phobias and everything to do with his well-being.”

  “Because if he really can’t race any longer, I’ll just train another horse.” The words were defensive, but not of her treatment of the horse. There was pain underneath the statement. Pain and guilt and a healthy dose of fear because for all the people she kept at arm’s length, Monica was attached to the horse.

  Damn. And now he was jealous of a horse because Trick wanted Monica to feel one tenth of that connection to him.

  “God, you’re so frustrating.” He took her by the shoulders and turned her around so she could see her horse in the paddock. “Look at him. He’s exhausted, and that’s part of it. But really look. He’s barely putting any pressure on that back leg unless he absolutely has to. He needs a long rest, Mon, we won’t know more than that for several weeks.”

  Her shoulders shook under his hands. Trick wanted to gather her to him, but he knew she wouldn’t accept a simple hug. Kisses and lovemaking were fine for Monica. She resisted more loving gestures.

  “He just needs to rest.”

  “Yeah. He might also need to retire.”

  “He’ll be fine.” The words were a whisper. He couldn’t stop himself. Trick pulled her back against his chest. For a split second, she relaxed against him.

  “With time,” he whispered in her ear.

  She twisted away from him. “I think … ”

  “Mon?” Kathleen’s voice came from outside the trailer.

  Monica jumped away from Trick as if he was on fire. “You should go.” She stepped down from the trailer. “I’ll call you. Later.”

  “Monica.” But she was gone, talking with her sister. Trick watched the two walk away, heads bent together.

  Trick tapped his forehead against the metal trailer frame. Every ounce of self-preservation yelled at him to hand the case over to Dr. Vaughn. To stay as far from Monica Witte as he could because he was thisclose to falling head over feet for her. But he couldn’t turn his back on her any more than he could turn his back on the horse in the paddock.

  She would call. The question was; when would he stop answering?

  • • •

  Monica wrapped Jinx’s lead around her palm, walking the big horse into the warm therapy pool. Her sister, Kathleen, sat on the side, bare feet dangling into the water and navy flip-flops by her side. She was too far along in her pregnancy to get into the water, and the other trainers were busy with the two-year-olds that would be up for sale in a few months.

  “Slowly. This isn’t a full session. Just get him into the water and some of the pressure off that back leg.” Kathleen kept her voice low, soothing. For the horse or her, Monica wasn’t sure. Probably a little bit of both. Kathleen had that way about her.

  It rankled.

  She didn’t need soothing. She needed her horse to heal so she could get back out on the road, doing the thing she loved. For all her bravado with Trick, Monica wouldn’t leave Jinx to train another horse. Not when he needed her. Not when the accident was her fault. She shouldn’t have stayed in the arena.

  Running Jinx in the arena, chit-chatting with acquaintances from the circuit, going out for a drink now and then with the other girls, was so much easier than being here. She would suck it up, though. Cowgirl up, as Kathleen said. Deal with the family drama, do the sister-bonding thing. Helping Jinx recover was all that mattered now.

  The memory of Trick’s strongly muscled chest against her back taunted her. He was right. She was petrified of more than a fling with him. What if she got hurt? Nathaniel drank himself through most of her childhood. Would she fall down into the bottle like he did?

  She glanced up at the big house, windows gleaming in the late-spring sunshine. Her heart twinged a little. She loved this house. Loved growing up on a working ranch. It was the small-town part that got to her lately. Everyone knowing her business, knowing who she was, who her father was. That part was expected. Comparing Monica to her sister, the super horsewoman, or her sister, the party planner … wasn’t. But since Kathleen and Jackson, and then Vanessa and Mat, had settled down here, everyone in Lockhardt seemed to look at her differently. Like they were waiting for her to be the next Witte sister to fall in love and settle for the husband and baby scenario.

  At least in Austin or on the road, she had distractions. She could leave a conversation when things got too personal without worrying about hurting someone’s feelings. Being famous made it so much easier to keep her distance. Everyone expected her to be busy, focused on her next ride or distracted by her horse. She could tune out the curious glances. In Lockhardt there was no buffer. The older generations peppered her with questions until she had to answer, her friends wouldn’t know an emotional boundary fence if it was marked ‘No Trespassing’ and her family … Kathleen was right beside her in the pool. Hadn’t taken more than ten steps away from Monica since she found her in the trailer with Trick. Forget breathing room with her sister around.

  Jinx settled into the pool, with the water up to his haunches. Kathleen turned on a couple of jets, positioning one so that it would massage his bad leg while they walked a few laps.

  “It’s important that he get a full range of motion, so walk him to the end of the pool and then make him walk backward to this end.” Monica followed Kathleen’s instructions, walking laps with the horse for a long while. The jet pulsated on his back leg with each lap.

  She’d known the vet in Utah just wanted her and Jinx out of his office. She’d known it. But she’d ignored the warning bells in her head and started them back to Texas.

  “Slower. This isn’t a race.”

  Their father, Nathaniel, joined Kathleen beside the pool. He pulled a chair to the side and sat down. Dust from the cattle pastures coated his jeans and boots.

  Monica slowed. She let Kathleen’s and Nathaniel’s voice
s fade into the background as they talked about pasture movements and the training schedule for Jester, Kathleen’s prize racer. Monica’s thoughts turned to Trick. From the tips of his scarred, brown boots to the muscled shoulders filling his western shirt, he was delectable. Infuriating. Why did the man have to be so kissable when she knew he was completely wrong for her?

  He wanted small-town life, his little vet practice.

  She wanted bright lights. Rodeo wasn’t exactly glamorous, but along with the trust fund set up by her grandfather, she had enough cash socked away to live a comfortable life. Only she wanted that spotlight just a little while longer. Was that such a bad thing?

  “The idea is to get him used to the water, not start him out as a freestyler. You need to slow it down.” Nathaniel interrupted her thoughts.

  “The idea is to get him back in the arena.” She spoke under her breath, but Nathaniel straightened and frowned. “I’m sorry. I’m just frustrated.”

  “What you should be is worried.”

  “Dad … ” Kathleen began, but Nathaniel cut her off.

  “I’ve seen the tape of what happened. This horse needs care and rest, not to run laps in the therapy pool so you can assuage your conscience.”

  “Dad, it wasn’t her fault … ”

  This time Monica cut Kathleen off.

  “No, I know I screwed up. I kept us in the arena. I started us back from Utah too early. It was me, me, me.” She started Jinx on another backwards lap, but kept her steps slow and measured. “I’m not the rider Kathleen is, obviously. She would never have put her horse in harm’s way. But I did, and now I’m trying to help him.”

  “I never said you weren’t as good as Kathleen. It’s” — he paused — “it’s apples and oranges.” He stood tiredly. “You are a good horsewoman, Monica, as good as any I’ve ever met.” He turned toward the house.

  When the kitchen door closed behind him Kathleen said, “He didn’t mean anything by it.”

  Monica bit down on the corner of her mouth. That was the problem. She knew before mouthing off that he was only trying to help. But she couldn’t stop herself from lashing out. She didn’t need his advice now. She’d gone twenty-four years without it while he was drowning his sorrows with Jack Daniels and Jose Cuervo. “I know.”