Second Hope

by J. B. McDonald

  “I bought some at the store this morning. Not on the list, but I’d hate for you all to get scurvy from a lack of vitamins.” He gave her a wry smile, and pulled several orange sections out of his sling. “She prefers these.” He offered one and Emma nuzzled at his hand, snuffling them thoroughly before wiggling her lip against his palm and finally taking a section into her mouth. She chewed it carefully, as if still unsure about the burst of flavor, and after it was gone she raised her head and lifted her upper lip.

  Nat laughed. “I can’t believe you’re keeping oranges in your sling.”

  “What? It’s like a giant pocket! If I have to wear it, I might as well make it useful. Carrots fit, too.”

  She pulled the stall door open so he could leave, then rolled it closed again, laughing.

  “Would you like an orange?”

  She gave him a look if disgust. “Not from your sling!”

  Grinning, he produced a whole orange—from his sling—and offered it. “You sure? Unless you’re planning on eating the peel, I swear no gross man sweat has touched it.”

  “I’m more worried about cooties.” But, eyes sparkling, she took the fruit and started to peel it, digging her nails into the rind and prying it back. The scent hit the air like a spray of sunshine among all the heavier animal scents, and suddenly she remembered she hadn’t eaten since breakfast—and that had consisted of toast that Cole had also foisted on her.

  She closed her eyes rapturously as she popped the first section into her mouth, juice bursting across her tongue.

  “I think I’m suddenly jealous of the damn orange.” His voice was smoky and dark, lower than it had been, something husky threading through his tone. It made her shiver, like a warm cloth rubbed along her spine.

  Her eyes flicked sidelong as they walked, and one corner of her mouth turned up. “Is that why you keep feeding me? So you can be jealous of the food?”

  His irises darkened as his pupils expanded, lids falling lazily. “Didn’t you know? It’s so I have an excuse to watch your mouth.”

  Her heartbeat picked up as his gaze drifted over her lips, almost like a physical caress. She shivered despite the hot sun, tongue peeking out to dampen her skin.

  His followed suit, an unconscious mirroring of her actions.

  “You two coming? Or you just gonna keep having eye-sex in the middle of the courtyard?” Aaron bellowed.

  A smile lifted Cole’s lips, though his eyes continued to smolder.

  Nat felt a blush creep up her neck and looked away quickly, shooting an annoyed glare at her ranch hand. “Don’t you have work to be doing? I’m sure I could make some up!” Despite her tone, though, she lengthened her stride and hurried toward the other barn as if she hadn’t just been, as Aaron so indelicately put it, having eye-sex with Cole.

  Eye-sex. Who’d ever heard of such a term, anyway?

  By the time they got there the vet and his tech had their gear out and Fleet tied to the side of the stall. The portable X-ray machine was expensive, and not nearly as accurate as a standard one, but for something like this where they already had a rough idea of how Fleet’s legs should look, it was effective.

  Years of looking at fuzzy screens told her he was healing well even before the vet proclaimed the same thing.

  “You might consider starting to lunge him. A nice easy jog, couple times a day with his legs wrapped.” Dr. Reeds put his gear away, not bothering to look up. “You have a rubber-turf arena, right? Maybe start with that. Low impact so the bones harden up but don’t have too much stress on them.”

  Nat nodded, having already planned just that. The pool was perfect for increasing circulation, but if the bones healed entirely without ever getting any strain, then often they healed weakly, too, and were more likely to break—or in this case, crack—again. Finding just the perfect balance when they’d healed externally but were still active with new cells was the key.

  Of course, everyone had a different opinion on that, but unless Cole protested she was going to do what she thought was best. She was the one with the experience and the good reputation at rehabilitating horses, after all.

  It was ironic that the vet was trying to tell her to do this, when she’d been the one to fight him over it when they first started working together. He’d been of the firm opinion that stall rest was the only way to go, and more than a few times had spelled gloom and doom for what she was doing. He’d come around over the years, though, and now seemed to forget which of them had pioneered their current method.

  She could feel Aaron shifting behind her, filled with annoyance. Aaron never forgot that it was Nat who’d taught the vet that her way worked, and could barely stand it that she didn’t remind the man—frequently.

  “How’s Buddha doing?” Dr. Reeds asked, finally looking up from his carefully stowed equipment.

  “Surgery went fine,” Nat said. “He’s home, now—just got back a few hours ago. Stitches look good, though they had to remove eight feet of dead intestine. You called it—something twisted.”

  He frowned and shook his head sorrowfully. “I’m sorry I couldn’t fix it on the ground. These things just happen so fast…”

  Nat nodded, glancing over to see Cole slip into Fleet’s stall for his own personal check-in. The stallion nuzzled at him and he offered a small apple—also pulled from his sling—which was gobbled up happily.

  “Do you mind if I take a look at him? I can check the stitches. I have a few extra minutes, even if I look at Kahaia.”

  “Sure, he’s this way,” Aaron interjected, tipping his head toward the main barn. “And if you don’t mind, could you take a quick peek at General? He’s due for a trim, but we’re going to have to sedate him to get that flipper foot again, and I’d like for you to give him a once-over before we do. He’s getting up there in age…”

  Nat watched the small group head off, smiling at Aaron’s ease with taking charge.

  “He’s the regular little manager, isn’t he?” Cole asked with some amusement.

  “Aaron? I couldn’t run this place without him. He knows what’s going on better than I do half the time, which leaves Beth to manage the books and the owners—and she’s better at dealing with temperamental people than either Aaron or I.”

  “I’ll have to keep that in mind.” Cole’s voice was dry, but when Nat looked sheepishly at him—remembering only then that he was a temperamental owner—his expression was cheerful. “Was I the worst of them? Demanding to talk to the ranch owner rather than the underlings, saying I wanted to stay here?”

  “You were terrible. Gave me headaches,” she teased right back, leaning on the open half door of the stall and smiling at him.

  “Hmmm.” He slid closer, hand lifting to trail a finger down the side of her face, along her jawline. “Think I could make it up to you?”

  “I dunno. You were a pretty awful pain.”

  His smile flashed and vanished, pulled back under control. “What if I made you dinner for a few nights running? Maybe took you to a movie?” His hand slid under her chin, tipping her face up tauntingly close to his. She could smell him, male sweat and the sweetness of fruit.

  “What, like a real date?” Laughter tickled up her throat. “I’m short-staffed. I doubt I can get away for that long.” She wished she was teasing now, because suddenly cleaning up and heading out sounded like it might actually be fun—as long as it was with Cole.

  “Well, maybe we could go on a trail ride. I wouldn’t mind another of those.” His thumb brushed her chin, back and forth until her skin tingled with the contact. “I know a guy who might let me borrow his horse.”

  She resisted the urge to nuzzle into his hand, even as she felt herself leaning a little farther over the stall door. “I don’t know. You didn’t dismount on the off-side. He might not let you back up on Taylor.”

  Cole looked almost comically crestfallen. Nat couldn’t quite stop the grin, or the quick breath of a chuckle. It was silenced by his mouth whispering over hers, lips warm and dry c
ontrasted by the flick of a wet tongue.

  She caught her breath when it didn’t deepen, just remained teasingly out of reach. He was smiling, waiting, hand still frustratingly soft on her jawbone. Nat moved forward, bringing a hand up to bury in his thick hair, to pull him down and closer, her mouth opening under his and tongue sliding between his lips. He responded instantly and the light, joking tone was suddenly gone, replaced by a hunger that rose fast and raging between them. His tongue thrust into her mouth and her whole body responded, like lightning blazing through her from shoulders to knees. She moaned against him, felt him swallow the sound as if he could live off it forever.

  His hand burned down her neck, pressing her closer so her breasts pushed against his chest, against the hard planes of muscle barely disguised by cloth. She didn’t know which of them groaned when her nipples, hard and peaked, rubbed firmly against him. She did, however, know it was her own exhalation that caught, lodged in her throat, when his hand came around to cup her breast, thumb skimming above the edge of her bra.

  His mouth tore free of hers, teeth nipping at her earlobe. Breath made her skin hot and damp while lips and tongue left streaks of fire along the edge of her ear, flicking into the whorls before retreating to suck on the edge. She shuddered, turning her head to bury her nose in his thick hair, inhaling the basic scent of musk and masculinity that he carried without the threat of violence.

  She wondered if he tasted as good as he smelled, and opened her mouth against the heavy tendon of his neck, licking carefully. He cursed, his head tipping back to give her better access even while his fingers closed around her nipple, rubbing with gentle care.

  Desire coiled inside her, making her muscles tremble with need. She bit down gently on his skin, then harder when she heard his breath break over his tongue. His hand rose, sliding up her back and into her hair, loosing her braid. Fingers tightened in the fine strands, pulling her head away from his skin just before his mouth lowered over hers again, slower with the edge of desire both sharpening and easing, the surprise of it gone, allowing them to manage it easier.

  He kissed her, long and deep, tongue sliding into her mouth and out again. “I want you,” he murmured against her lips, so softly she almost didn’t hear it.

  Nat shivered, unable to tell if it was fear or arousal or a potent mixture of both. She’d never cared this much about anyone before, let alone so quickly. She trusted him, and she barely knew him. She wasn’t sure she should have allowed it. “I know,” she said only, and tore herself away.

  He let her go. Why that was important she didn’t know—her mind was too much awhirl with everything that had just happened, her body still throbbing with her pulse.

  But it was important.

  And when she took another step back and walked away, he only turned and leaned against his horse. That, too, was important. Some part of her, braced for an argument, uncoiled.

  It left the rest of her disturbingly warm.

  ***

  “What do you think of Cole?” It wasn’t as subtle as she’d meant it to be, but then, nothing these days seemed subtle.

  “He’s really attractive. I mean, I’d do him.” Beth grinned, nearly wriggling with the thought.

  “That’s not what I meant,” Nat muttered. She frowned, pulling her coat tighter and looking out at the stars. Aaron struggled with the water pipes quietly to one side, illuminated by the flashlight beam Nat held.

  “I know. But what else do you need to know? If he’s interested and he’s nice looking, that’s all that really matters. Everything else falls apart anyway, a while down the road.” Beth sighed and shifted as the horse she’d been petting wandered away. “So I don’t know why you’re fretting about it. You just need to take things as they come. Find someone cute, get married. Get someone else to do all—” her hand waved in the dark, “—this.”

  Nat tensed. She should have known that to ask Beth was a mistake. There was one role for women in Beth’s family: barefoot and pregnant. She’d tried to pull her cousin out of that, away from the father who felt it his duty to scream at the women in his household, but only Beth could decide if that was right or not.

  “He’d piss your parents off,” Beth said cheerfully.

  “Someone who pisses my parents off isn’t really what I’m looking for in a partner, you know.” Nat didn’t look at her cousin, but her tone was wry.

  Beth shrugged. “Well, whatever. Do you need me? I’m gonna call it a night.”

  “Go ahead.” She didn’t need the girl’s input, if that was all it was going to be anyway, and fixing the hose was a two-man job at most.

  Aaron spoke as Beth’s footsteps faded. His arm wrenched, tightening the clamp down on the end of hose he’d cut. “Emma likes him.”

  He’d been so quiet, it was almost easy to forget he was there. “All that means is that he’s good with horses.”

  He gave the wiring one final twist, then paused to look up, moving his head out of the beam of light. “Have you met Emma? She won’t go near Beth, and Beth would never intentionally hurt anyone. She doesn’t like Shumway, and she won’t tolerate me. Much as I can, I let Cole change her bandages and feed her, because she’ll stand still as a kitten for him.”

  “Kittens stand still?” Nat muttered with annoyance.

  Aaron ignored her. “He’s good with hurt things. Has a softness to him, you know? He seems pretty good with you.”

  Nat glared at that last comment, shining the light in his eyes. “Yeah, okay, fix your damn hose.”

  Aaron chuckled, turning back to what he was doing. “Just sayin’. I think you’d be hard-pressed to do better.”

  “No, you said he’s good with hurt things. That’s different.”

  She could only see the edge of his face, but his cheek curved as if he were smiling. “True.” He twisted the hose into place and stepped back, bending to flick the water on. It gurgled into the tub, rather than blasting across the pasture. “I’ve known you for a long time, Nat. I like this guy. I even like this guy with you.” He leaned on the fence, looking out at the dark shapes that moved through the field, crowded together, drifting apart. He nodded at one of those shapes, a horse crisscrossed with scars left by a former owner. “Moses looks like he’s fitting in pretty well.”

  She glanced up, distracted. The big bay gelding sidled toward a smaller mare, only to hurry away the instant she gave him a dirty look. But he didn’t hurry far. Every day he merged more and more with the herd. “Yeah. He’s getting better with the other horses.”

  “Sounds like someone I know.”

  Nat glared at Aaron again, but he just smiled out over the herd.

  “Are you comparing me to Moses?” she snapped, annoyed.

  “Nah.”

  She relaxed, right up until he continued.

  “Moses is letting go of his fears.” With a pointed look, Aaron turned and headed back toward the bunkhouse. His voice drifted over the night air. “See you in the morning.”

  She fumed silently, glaring at his fading back before stomping toward the courtyard and her own house. He was entirely off base. None of that was true. She wasn’t holding onto her fears, she was just a little cautious.

  When she couldn’t even convince herself of that, she knew she had a problem.

  Rather than going inside, Nat went around the house and into the back. The great oak spread its branches, offering a safe haven under its living arms. She tucked herself beneath it, curling up with her knees to her chest. The stars winked overhead, bright without any city lights to haze the sky.

  She had spent years avoiding men, certain that they were all like her father. She’d been angry at her mother for making the choice to stay with him, despite the beatings and fear. At eighteen Nat had left home, though at the time she’d used college as an excuse. She hadn’t been back since she started the ranch with her grandmother’s money. At first there had been phone calls, the occasional e-mail. Now she got Christmas cards with stamped signatures.

  She
’d achieved her goal: they were out of her life. And yet, if Aaron was right, they were controlling her even still, like ghosts keeping her on a firm leash. Except now it was a leash of her own making.

  And if she was wrong? If Cole was just another man, just like her father, only better at hiding it?

  Nat rested her chin on her knees and tried to clear her head, tried to look past the fears and anxiety. What she needed was a sign. Too bad she didn’t believe in them.

  The sliding glass door opened with the soft noise of muted runners. “Nat? You out here?”

  She leaned forward, tipping far enough for Cole to see her in the darkness. “Just clearing my head.”

  “Can I get you something?”

  “No, thanks.” What she needed wasn’t something anyone else could help her with, much as she wished they could.

  He hesitated in the doorway, visibly wavering between stepping back inside and giving her some privacy versus coming out to talk. “Are you all right?”

  For a long moment, Nat debated saying she was fine. Then she shook her head, looking back out at the inky black desert. “Aaron just said some things that got me thinking.”

  The door closed. He ducked to get under the tree branches, settling on the brick wall a few feet away. “I could shoot him for you. I don’t know how to aim a gun, true, but I saw you have a rifle in there. I bet if I got close enough…”

  It was exactly the violence she was afraid of, and yet it sounded so inane coming from Cole that she laughed. Her skin prickled with sudden knowledge: she couldn’t imagine a situation in which him threatening violence would be remotely imaginable. “Have you ever even been in a bar fight?” she asked, turning to rest her cheek on her knees and looking at him.

  “Oh, sure. Well…once. Well, not so much a fight as a loud argument.”

  “I think Aaron would kick your ass.”

  “Only if I tried to fight him without a rifle. Or,” he said after a moment’s thought, “if I attacked with the rifle, and he got it from me. Which is entirely possible.”