Second Hope

by J. B. McDonald

  Streaks of dirt smeared one arm and shavings pooled near her ankles, in the folds of her jeans. Her scuffed boots had mud caked on the heels. Her nails were dirty, and her black hair had escaped from its braid, clinging to the long line of her neck.

  “It’s beautiful.” Cole smiled softly.

  Nat glanced at him. The moment of realization when she knew he’d been watching her was plain. She laughed quietly and looked away, wandering off toward the nearest oak. “I’ve always liked this place. When I first started the ranch I’d come out here just to get away. Clear my head. See something alive and growing, rather than the horses that needed so much help. Out here, nothing needed me like that.” She glanced back, one hand spread on the trunk. “We got a lot of wrecks, in those days. We couldn’t afford the best of anything yet, and a lot of the horses were rescues. A lot of them couldn’t be saved.”

  He didn’t know what to say, so he simply remained quiet.

  She looked at the tree, head tipping back as she gazed upward into its branches, chin tucking as she lowered her face, tracing the line of the trunk back down to her hand. Her thumb rubbed over a scar in the bark, and she smiled faintly. “This was the first horse we managed to pull through. Just Aaron and I then—he was a snot-nosed little punk trying to get as far from his family as he could without leaving the horse world. Blue mohawk and stoned every night. And then we healed King, and something about that healed Aaron.” Her smile grew, blooming across her face. “He called his parents that night. He’d run away when he was sixteen, and it was the first time he’d spoken to them in five years.”

  “Maybe he just needed to know he could do something good without them.” Cole could remember the first time he’d succeeded at a job without standing on his father’s or brother’s shoulders. It had been liberating. For the first time, he’d felt grown up.

  He wondered, suddenly, if Nat had ever been a child in that way. If she’d ever had shoulders to stand on. “Your grandmother helped you with this place, didn’t she?”

  Nat shrugged. “She gave me the money. When she died, she left me the rest. I think she was trying to keep my mother from having it. They never spoke. My grandmother didn’t approve of my father, whether or not he was a doctor.” Her smile was bitter. “She had more sense than my mother did.”

  Cole wandered closer, lifting his good hand to brush it over the wooden scar she kept fingering. The bark was paler here, and there was a line of smaller scratches, a few inked lines from a marker, some dates. “Are these all the horses you’ve helped?”

  “The ones we saved, that first year.” Nat pointed to one of the red lines. “These are the ones we lost.”

  There were more than a few, but they didn’t outnumber the scars. “You did well.”

  Nat chuckled, shifting to lean against the tree, shoulder pressed to wood. “Considering what we had? We did all right. The cases got tougher as time went on, but we got a lot more rich people too.”

  “Like me.” He grinned.

  Her mouth tipped, echoing his expression. “Like you. Only most people just send their horses. Not sure how good I’m gonna be at mending rotator cuffs.”

  He laughed at her teasing. “Well, you have to start somewhere, Doctor Nat.”

  She just shook her head and chuckled in return, but her eyes were lighter now, the sadness gone. “Does it hurt much?”

  “Not much. I think it’s healing pretty well.” He stretched his neck, rubbing at where the sling dug into his shoulder. “I think this is giving me more pain than the tendon, anymore.”

  “You could adjust it?” She stepped closer and he went still, turning his head slightly so she could get a better look.

  Her touch was featherlight, her scent intoxicating. Like blueberries and cream, rich and sweet without being sickly.

  “Is this any better?”

  He couldn’t tell any difference, but he could feel her body heat. His gaze caught hers, and fire rippled between them. “Yeah.” His voice dropped into its deepest registers, coming out husky.

  Nat’s tongue flicked out, dampening her lips. Dark pupils dilated to spill black across her irises. “You didn’t even pay attention.”

  Cole smiled. It stretched over his face, slow and seductive. “No. I didn’t.” He didn’t think she cared, from the way her eyes flickered to his mouth, following his lips as he spoke. His hand rose as if of its own volition, rubbing away a smear of dust along her jawbone. She had a delicate jaw, for all that she was strong. Like a razorblade, sharp and fine. It narrowed down to a perfect little chin under a full mouth. He remembered that mouth from the night before. Remembered how her lips had parted under his, the tiny exhale he doubted she’d been aware of. The way her tongue had stroked his, the way she’d tasted, felt, smelled.

  He wanted to taste her again, feel her under him, smell arousal and sex build. Moving slowly, remembering how she’d taken the lead before, he slid his fingers around the nape of her neck. Her skin was chilled despite the warm weather. When he fitted his mouth to hers she shivered, the finest tremble of skin and muscle, so faint he almost didn’t feel it.

  She wavered, seemingly caught between stepping closer and stepping away. He kept the kiss light, gentle, fingertips and soft brushes of his mouth, nothing more. He didn’t want to push.

  She stepped closer, fitting her body to his. He nearly groaned with relief, pressing tightly against her. One slender hand wrapped around his neck and her mouth opened, deepening the kiss. Her tongue slid against his and he responded, exploring her mouth, the way she tasted. His pulse beat thick and heavy under his skin, in his groin. He shifted his thigh to press between her legs. She caught her balance, opening for him slightly, pressing back.

  The temptation was to push harder, to pin her against the tree and keep things moving along fast until they both came. He fought it, keeping his movements slow and gentle. Once you’d won over a skittish horse, you didn’t mess it up by asking for too much, too soon. Still, his good hand skimmed over her jaw, under it, tipping her head up so he could duck his face into her neck, nibble on the slim line of her throat. Her skin was warm, a little salty, and he could feel the beat of her heart in her jugular.

  She exhaled, breath soft and shivering. Cole did it again, teeth scraping gently over flesh, pulling that exact little tremble from her that was so thoroughly intoxicating. His fingertips slid over her skin, down one of the slim tendons that framed her throat, and lit on her collarbones. He brushed over them, marveling over how tiny the bones were, like bird wings arcing in from the points of her shoulders.

  Her hands moved firmly over his rib cage, over the heavy pads of muscle, pulling him closer. His fingertips glided downward, touch featherlight against the edge of a perfect breast clothed in the thin material of a tank top and bra. A shiver crept through her, her hand stuttering on his ribs.

  Cole smiled against her before placing a careful kiss on her neck, another on her throat, opening his mouth and flicking his tongue across her flesh. Her hands tightened in his shirt, curling into small, demanding fists. With his good hand he grazed her arm, trailing down, feeling the tiny soft hairs and the firmness of muscle under skin. Then he found her waist, kept moving down until he felt the edge of her jeans. He tugged at her tank top, pulling it free to find warm, elastic flesh.

  His kissed her again as his fingertips skimmed over abdomen muscle, teasing at the edge of her rib cage. Her mouth opened, tongue brushing against his lips. She tasted like warm summer sunshine and lazy mornings, long rides and slow laughter. Tongues tangled and slid together, tasting, exploring, growing bolder and more heated. He slid his hand up under her shirt, following the line of her rib cage to the edge of her bra. There he hesitated, giving her a moment to pull back, to slow things down. Instead, she pressed into him with a tiny sound almost caught in her throat.

  Moving his hand around her back, he found the clasp and unhooked it, coming forward again to skim his knuckles over the edge of her breast. She shivered and made another little so
und, one hand catching his wrist, guiding his hand higher. It went straight to Cole’s groin, his erection pressing against his fly, against her. Her other hand slid up his back, into his hair, pulling him close and tugging them both around until the oak was at her back.

  It was exactly what he’d wanted earlier, and the impulse to thrust against her was terrifyingly strong. He rubbed his thumb across her nipple, feeling the nub catch against the hard pad of his finger. She moaned into his mouth, one of her legs shifting against his thigh in a primal invitation.

  It was perfect. It was better than perfect, feeling her pressed up against him, opening under him. He thrust his tongue into her mouth slowly. She opened, responded, her hands sliding over his back, up his shoulders. In one hand he cupped her breast, felt the weight and shape of it, teased the hard little peak and felt her entire body electrify. She sucked on his tongue, wet and warm, and he groaned and thrust his hips into hers. Everything felt oversensitized, too aware of where she was and how she moved.

  And then she pulled back. It was the tiniest movement, a hand sliding around to his chest, mouth disengaging from the kiss. He pulled his hand down to settle on her rib cage again. He could feel her shivering, feel the way her pulse hammered in her throat, and when he looked at her in the instant before she looked away, her pupils were dilated with just a thin line of blue around them.

  “I need to, uh…” She paused, and he was thrilled to realize her brain was as scrambled as his.

  “Slow down?” he guessed. If there was a note of wistfulness in his voice, it was mostly hidden.

  Her lips quirked upward at the corners. Apparently it wasn’t hidden well enough. “Yeah. Slow down.”

  Cole nodded, trying to get his breathing back under control. It wasn’t easy. His heart thumped so hard against his chest it was almost painful. He wanted to kiss her again. To slide his hand back up and rub his fingers over her breast, tease her nipple hard before sucking on it—

  None of these thoughts were helping him calm down. Nat was still caught between him and the tree, though she didn’t seem inclined to move. Every time she inhaled he could feel the stretch of her ribs under her skin, the press of her body against his. It was a delicious sort of torture that he didn’t want to end.

  She lifted her face and kissed him again, softly. Her fingers ran though the ends of his shaggy hair, and he found himself glad that he’d showered that morning. If it would encourage her to touch him, he’d shower three times a day.

  Cole pulled his hand out from under her shirt at long last, tugging the material down, using that as an excuse to trail knuckles over her firm stomach. “I have a confession to make.” He looked at her from under a fall of brown hair.

  Her eyebrows lifted expectantly.

  “I can undo a bra one-handed, but I can’t redo it.”

  It brought one of those golden smiles to her face, the ones that made her eyebrows quirk and a teasing light enter her eyes. “That figures. Give me some space.” She pushed against him, and he stepped back obligingly.

  Then she did that arcane female ritual that nearly made his day: she hooked her bra and did the breast-jiggle. He didn’t quite understand it other than a needed adjustment, like men and their pieces, but he enjoyed it regardless. For his part he remained as still as possible, waiting for his hard-on to go down before he started wandering around, shoving it against his zipper.

  A nicker drew his head around, and he turned to see two new horses threading their way slowly between the boulders, coming into the shade. Taylor was watching them with interest, and Jasmine’s head was turned their way, her ears straining forward and nostrils flaring.

  “We should probably head out of here.” Nat’s tone was cautious, watching the horses approach each other warily. Taylor’s neck arched, body going stiff as he blew through his nose.

  Cole winced. “I think I need a minute before I hop back up in the saddle.” He gave Nat a wry smile, something close to apologetic.

  Nat glanced at him and laughed, then started walking toward the horses. “Go on,” she said to the newcomers, flapping her arms. “Out of here.” When Taylor tried to join them she reached out and caught his bridle, halting his forward motion. “You stay here.” She petted his nose, then switched to his neck. “You’re not a stud, you know,” she said fondly to him, as if imparting grave information. “You don’t have to show them how manly you are.”

  “Hey, now, don’t impugn his manhood.” Cole walked up, relieved that his body was cooling down. He took his horse’s reins, unlooping them from around the saddle. “Don’t listen to a thing she says, Taylor. You and me, we’re guys. Don’t ever believe a woman if she tells you otherwise.”

  Nat just laughed, picking up the bridle she’d left on a rock and heading toward her own mare. “The myths men tell each other,” she muttered good-naturedly. Jasmine took the bridle easily and a moment later Nat had swung up, settling onto her horse’s back with the ease of long practice.

  Cole mounted a little more carefully, too aware of still-sensitive bits.

  “You forgot to mount on the off side.”

  It took him a moment to figure out what she was saying. Then he chuckled, giving Taylor a tiny squeeze to get him moving forward. “No, Aaron said to dismount on the off side.”

  “You didn’t do that, either.” Her tone was light, joking.

  Cole grinned back at her. “Well, as long as we don’t tell Aaron, I’m sure it’ll be all right.”

  “I dunno.” Once clear of the rocks she encouraged Jasmine to lengthen her stride, coming alongside Cole’s horse. “He’s a pretty good hand. I’m not sure I should be keeping things like that from him.”

  He slid a glance toward her, taking in her clean profile against the green pasture. When he spoke, he let his voice drop down into its deepest registers, the words purring across her skin. “Is there anything I can do to convince you to keep this secret?”

  It gave him a moment of male pride to see the flush spread from her throat up over her jawline. “I might be able to think of something.” The red spread farther, and she didn’t look at him—though a smile tickled the corner of her mouth.

  From his peripheral vision Cole caught sight of movement. He twisted to look, eyes widening when he saw the herd trailing slowly after them. “We have a following.”

  Nat turned as well, the muscles in her legs holding her steady in lieu of a saddle. “So we do. They’re all good horses.”

  Good horses or not, it was always a bit disconcerting to have a mass of half-ton beasts wandering after you. Apparently Taylor felt the same way; he lifted his head and bugled, whole body rattling with his efforts.

  “I think I’m sterile,” Cole wheezed, resisting the urge to protect his crotch from another such punishment.

  Peals of laughter rang out from the woman beside him, more laughter than was really warranted, he thought. He hurt! And she—he glanced at her to see her still cackling, bent over her horse with one hand tangled in the black mane.

  She was taking great joy in his pain.

  Cole smiled dryly and shifted his weight into his right stirrup. Obediently, Taylor sidestepped left almost into Jasmine, halting barely a foot away as the mare’s ears flicked nervously toward them. Cole dropped his reins to reach out and shove Nat, hard enough that if she hadn’t been holding on, he guessed he would have dislodged her.

  As it was she rocked, but didn’t come anywhere near tipping. “I’m so glad I’m not a man,” she said, and laughed with renewed hilarity.

  Cole was about to respond when Taylor kicked out and leaped forward, squealing in indignation. The reins started to slide. Cole snatched them up quickly, drawing his horse to a stop. The gelding spun, ears flat against his head, and glared at the herd behind them.

  “Watch it!” Cole called as he saw the closest horse reach out with bared teeth to nip at Jasmine—doubtless what had just happened to Taylor.

  Nat hitched her foot back and her mare spun on her forequarters, moving her hin
d out of the way of large, blunt teeth. “Knock it off, Maddy!” Nat yelled, spinning the length of her reins around and popping the attacking horse on the nose.

  The horse tossed its head and backed away, ears flat, snapping at the rest of the herd in frustration.

  “We should head out.” With a frown at the horses, Nat turned Jasmine and headed at a bit of a faster walk toward the gate. Cole followed, placing Taylor slightly behind to better protect the blind mare. His reins were longer, anyway, with a piece of flat leather on the ends. If Maddy thought they made a handy target, she was about to be mistaken.

  Maddy kept her distance for the rest of the walk, though, and her grumpy snapping kept the rest of the herd back as well. Cole had the distinct impression they were being escorted out of the mare’s territory.

  Jasmine and Nat opened the gate just as prettily this time as they had the last time, latching it closed on Maddy’s flat-eared glare.

  “We running late, or doing okay?” Cole glanced up the road farther, then turned to look back toward the ranch.

  “If you want to keep going, we can ride the fence line. It has to be checked for breaks periodically, anyway.” Nat smiled. “And we have cell phones; if the guys need us back soon, they’ll let us know.”

  Cole spun Taylor away from the ranch, encouraging him forward. “In that case, let’s ride.” There was something soothing about being on horseback, about the way the animals moved and the rolling of their gaits. “My mother rode,” he said, remembering the stories suddenly. “Apparently, she rode even while pregnant with first my brother and then myself. My father used to say he worried about her coming off, as round as she was, but she told him that if he wasn’t going to carry the babies, he couldn’t complain about how she did it.”