Second Hope

by J. B. McDonald

  “Gymnastics lessons?” Nat laughed, doing the same. “Because cartwheels will help you dig?”

  “Because it seems to be a prerequisite. I mean, all the Indiana Jones movies, the various Mummy movies, those girl ones that came out a while back—”

  “Tomb Raider?”

  “That’s it! They all spend as much time flipping and spinning and leaping as they do digging. More, in fact.”

  She nodded, sipping a glass of sangria. The fruit-filled wine was cool and refreshing, making sitting on the patio bearable. The afternoon had cooked the cement around them, and though the chairs cooled down rapidly once you sat, heat still beamed up from the cement-and-tile tables and the concrete floor. “Well, you certainly have the body for gymnastics,” she deadpanned, and waited until he looked at her curiously. “You’d look great in a cute little leotard.”

  He laughed. “Thanks, but I think I’ll leave the leotards to you.”

  Nat smiled, leaning on the table. “I don’t really have use for them. I’m not the one taking gymnastics lessons.”

  “Well, only if I end up treasure hunting.”

  “Then I’ll have to find you a treasure map. That’d be a sight worth seeing.”

  Heavy eyebrows rose, lips tipping up. “If it happens, I’ll make sure you know about it.”

  “Thanks,” Nat said cheerily. “I’d appreciate that.”

  He reached around the table, fingers pinching for her side, and she scooted away laughing. He just reached around the other way, hand catching her shirt and keeping her from fleeing.

  “Hey!” She slapped at his wrist, then grabbed and squeezed the tendons until his grip loosened. He settled back down, a self-satisfied smirk that told her he was suddenly aware that he could out-wrestle her, now that he wasn’t hampered by a sling.

  Nat mock glared. “Stupid men with stupid long arms,” she muttered good-naturedly. Watching him, she sipped her drink again while he tried his, nodding to himself in approval.

  They leaned back as their food arrived; chili relleño for Nat, and a sizzling platter of fajita fillings for Cole, complete with a plate of tortillas and another of rice and beans.

  He whistled low under his breath and pulled a tortilla free, beginning the careful process of wrapping up piping hot steak and bell peppers. She couldn’t help but smile again at the sight of him, so engrossed in what he was doing that the rest of the world seemed to have disappeared.

  He looked broader through the shoulders without the sling, more powerful. There was a slight tan line at his wrist where his hand, but not his arm, had gotten sun. It made her chuckle.

  His gaze slid up at the noise, locking on hers for a moment with a curious smile.

  Nat just shook her head. “How’s it feel to have two arms again?”

  “I don’t think I’ve ever felt anything so great,” he said emphatically. “You don’t realize how many things you need two hands for until you can’t use one of them. Simple things, like dressing. Do you know how hard it is to put on a shirt with one arm?”

  “Hard?” she guessed with a wicked twinkle.

  “See, you’re being funny, but it’s really very difficult.”

  “You could have just wandered around without a shirt. I’m pretty sure no one would have minded.” She certainly wouldn’t have.

  “Uh huh. And pants? Do you know how hard it is to zip anything?”

  Nat felt her eyebrows rise, but couldn’t quite stop it. “You should have asked,” she said with utter neutrality. “I would have helped.”

  For a moment, he didn’t respond. When he did it was with a slow, sultry smile. “I’ll have to keep that in mind.” The promise in his expression had nothing to do with torn tendons, and everything to do with the last several weeks. Nat’s heart sped, her skin growing warm at the memory of the way he’d felt, mouth on her skin, hand trailing down her back or up to cup her breast. They hadn’t exactly kept their hands off each other, even if she hadn’t suggested they find a way to have sex.

  She looked away to try and regain some composure, sipping her sangria. Beads of condensation slid down the glass, gathering along her fingers. It wasn’t enough to soothe her blood.

  “Maybe in the morning,” she murmured, “I can help you dress.” Because they’d be disrobing that night, she already knew. His eyes were on her, as solid as a caress. She kept her own gaze on her food, knowing that if she looked up she’d be unable to look away. His appearance was already printed indelibly in her mind; broad shoulders, toned with hard planes of muscle, strong thighs from years in a saddle. There were times when she’d seen the way sinew corded down either side of his spine, pressed against his shirt, and it had been all she could do not to follow that line with her fingers.

  And his face—easy smiles and protective warmth, a strong jaw and a crooked, slightly devilish grin that could change in a heartbeat to provocative or loving. Big eyes, hair that couldn’t make up its mind between gold and the soft brown of sand drying in the sun.

  It was all hers for the taking, at least for tonight. Tonight, and the night after, and if she was very lucky, a few nights after that. She doubted it would be two weeks before Fleet was ready to train again, to go back to preparing for the reining world and the championship next year. She had no doubts that he’d win.

  He’d take Cole’s heart with him, because it was impossible to keep a heart that already belonged to a horse and a world she wasn’t part of. Maybe that was what she’d misunderstood all these years. Maybe it wasn’t that men hurt you through cruelty or abuse. Maybe it was that they hurt you no matter what, and you could only pick your pain: getting hit, or being left.

  “Nat? Is something wrong?”

  With a shake, she smiled up at him. She’d already picked her pain, though she’d done so unknowingly, and for the next few weeks she’d enjoy him in her heart, her life and her bed.

  “No,” she said. “Nothing. How’s your fajita?”

  He looked down. “I forgot about it.”

  “Eat up. You’re going to need your strength.”

  He looked at her so hopefully she had to smother a laugh. “I am?”

  “Sure. When we get back to the ranch, we’re going to have to do rounds and feed and field any problems that cropped up through the day…”

  “You’re a horrible tease,” he mumbled. “Horrible.”

  Nat’s laugh chimed through the air, as light as her thoughts were heavy. First Buddha. Then Cole. But tonight, she was going to forget about loss and enjoy what she had. Tomorrow she could deal with everything else.

  Chapter Nine

  She waved at Aaron as their truck rolled to a stop, then got out and walked over the sandy driveway and courtyard toward him. “Is everything all right?” Her stomach knotted up even though she knew that the worst had already happened. Still, some part of her expected him to say no, that something else catastrophic had occurred.

  Aaron’s face was drawn, tried and strained. But he nodded wearily, pulling his battered cowboy hat off his head and running a hand through sun-streaked blond hair. “The Game and Fish people came to get the cat. They think it’s the same one who took down the Pasleys’ calf two weeks ago.” He hesitated, words catching before spilling out in a rush. “I asked them to cremate Buddha and bring his ashes back. I didn’t know—”

  “Thank you.” It was what she’d have asked for, if she’d been thinking of it.

  “It’s gonna cost seven fifty. I can pay that, if—”

  Nat reached out, catching his elbow. His skin was damp with sweat, gritty from dirt. “I would have asked, if I’d thought of it. Thank you.”

  His gaze dropped and he nodded once, a single bob of his head. “He was a good horse.” Aaron spoke quietly, his voice raw with emotion.

  Nat’s hand tightened, squeezing. She felt Cole step up behind her, lending his presence: quiet, calm, supportive. It gave her strength. “How is everything else?”

  Aaron looked out over the pastures, blinking rapidly several t
imes. For a moment he looked painfully young. Then he took a breath and looked back at her, and the mask of age and responsibility slid back into place. “The horses that were out there are still skittish. I asked Beth to take Fanny out, and the blasted mare bronced herself into a lather—but when we put her back she took control of the herd again, and they started to settle. General cast himself against the fence, but he’s all right now. Laid there quiet as you please while we took apart the whole dang corral to get him free. Kahaia threw a fit in her stall and kicked a hole in the back wall, so we put her in a stud pen. She’s all right. The barn’ll be okay, too.” He paused, thinking. “Emma didn’t eat today. I thought you might go look in on her?” As he spoke, his gaze shifted over Nat’s shoulder, eyes beseeching the man behind her.

  Nat tipped her head and saw Cole nod quietly. “Of course.”

  Aaron glanced away, out toward the field where Buddha had been. Nat didn’t look. She couldn’t. The image of him laying out there—

  Her stomach rolled, the Mexican food suddenly too greasy.

  “Shumway suggested a dog,” Aaron said.

  “Dog’d get eaten.” If the cat had been willing to take down a horse, a dog would be a snack.

  “Ones that bark don’t. Pumas are afraid of them.” Aaron still wasn’t looking at her. “We wouldn’t even need a big one. Just a yapper.”

  Cole’s voice carried out from behind her, his hand resting at the small of her back as if he thought she needed the strength. “Coyotes wouldn’t be bothered by yapping. They’d take it down if the mountain lion didn’t.”

  Aaron grimaced. “So, basically, we need a pack of huge dogs so the coyotes don’t get them, and barkers to chase off the lions. Great.”

  It was a feeling Nat agreed with. She toed the dirt, making lines with the edge of her boot.

  “It’s not likely to happen again,” Cole soothed. “It probably only attacked something as big as a horse because Buddha was injured. So now we’ll just keep injured horses in the barn.”

  Pain stabbed through Nat’s heart. “He should have been in the barn. He wasn’t feeling a hundred percent anyway. If we’d kept him inside—”

  Cole’s hand rose, clamping down on her shoulder, tight enough to make her pay attention. His voice was gentle. “This wasn’t your fault. You couldn’t have known there was a puma in the area, or that it’d take that very slight weakness as prey.”

  She didn’t say anything. Part of her knew he was right. The other part berated herself for not listening to the Pasleys better, for not remembering that they’d had a calf killed. She didn’t say that, though. Instead she took a deep breath and looked up at Aaron, though he was still watching the pasture. “Anything else I need to know?”

  He shook his head without looking over, thoughts lost, taken wherever his absent gaze was.

  “All right. I’ll go check on Emma.” She started walking. Cole caught up alongside. Reaching out as she passed Aaron, she snagged his wrist and gave it a quick, hard squeeze. He didn’t look at her. His face dropped, shadowed, and he put his hat back on, hiding his expression in the darkness.

  The main barn was lit with the courtyard lights outside and the stall lights inside. The smell of hay and oats hit, accompanied by the relaxed crunching of horses finishing their dinner. General’s oversized head loomed over his stall door as they passed, and he nickered deep in his chest. The mini he lived with reached as far as it could, velvet nose just visible over the edge. It nickered too, high and toy-like.

  “I keep meaning to get a baby gate for them.” Nat gestured to the stall the two shared, though she kept walking. “That way the mini could look out, too. I just keep forgetting.” She wasn’t positive it would work, anyway. General was usually a gentleman, and she guessed he wouldn’t push past—or walk over—a baby gate, but she wasn’t sure. Still, she wouldn’t know until she tried.

  Emma stood in her stall, her head drooping. A pile of hay and two buckets with different types of pellet and grain mixes hung untouched. A practiced glance at the water tub told Nat she’d been drinking, so that was a good sign. A few more days of keeping hydrated and they’d take the catheter out, stop the IV fluids altogether. The mare was almost off them now, but Nat was being extra cautious.

  As she unlatched the door the mare looked up, soft brown eyes fixing on her and Cole. Her ears drew up slightly as they came in, stepping into shavings that were halfway up Nat’s calves.

  “Hey, beautiful lady,” Cole purred, his voice low and tender. “Not feeling well today?”

  Nat watched as he walked up to the mare, holding both hands out for her inspection before settling them on her neck, rubbing up and down the long muscles. With practiced grace he moved over her, his broad fingers splayed as he ran them over her withers, shoulders, down her near foreleg. Carefully but thoroughly he went over her body, one side and then the other, talking to her the whole time.

  Emma heaved a sigh and relaxed, lids drooping over her eyes.

  “This infection’s getting worse.” Cole stood on the mare’s other side, one hand on her spine, his gaze on one of the many cuts and scrapes that were still healing. “Do you have an iodine scrub? I think she’ll let me clean it out tomorrow.”

  Nat stepped closer, resting both arms along the mare’s skinny back. “Yeah. Is it bad enough to need a penicillin dose?” They’d been using medication sparingly on her, knowing full well that she’d already been pumped full of drugs and medicine in Florida and trying to let her system recover as much as possible.

  Cole’s head tipped. His hair slid, glowing a warm honey in the barn lights. She wanted to run her fingers through it, to feel it brush over her skin.

  “I think cleaning it out’ll solve the problem,” he said after a moment. “I’ll spend a few hours on her tomorrow. See how much of this we can fix.”

  Emma took a step forward, and they both dropped their arms away, freeing her. She snuffled at the bucket of timothy and orchard pellets, then finally lowered her muzzle and lipped up a small bite.

  “That’s my girl,” Cole practically cooed. “Gotta keep up your strength, sweetheart. Have to show these guys that you’re the best horse here. Build some muscle, outrun everyone.”

  As if she understood what he was saying, Emma took another bite, enthusiasm for her feed growing slowly.

  Nat watched Cole pet the mare, his movements sure and gentle, the look on his face enough to make her heart slam painfully against her ribs. She thought if he ever looked at her that way, it might just break her.

  His gaze rose, smile dimming into concern. “Are you all right?”

  She nodded silently. She wasn’t all right, and she suspected it might be a long time before she was all right, but there was no need to discuss that. There wasn’t anything he could do about it anyway. Instead, her lips curved up in a faint smile and she said, “Ready to go inside?” Emma was eating now, even if she still did look a little more disinterested than the other horses.

  Cole’s gaze warmed. He smiled, eyes holding hers. Heat washed through her, muscles loosening and tensing all at once. She thought there might be a small chorus line of moths doing the mamba in her stomach, wings battering cheerfully. She hadn’t expected to be nervous, but she was. She’d made it a habit to keep men at arm’s length, and it had been years since she’d been intimate with any of them. Knowing he’d be leaving soon didn’t seem to make a difference, except to add a sense of urgency to the evening.

  He stepped around the mare, holding Nat’s gaze. She didn’t move; not closer, not away. Just waited while he came to her. It was like fire licking up her body, sliding across her skin—and he hadn’t even touched her yet.

  Blunt fingers brushed the edge of her jawline like a summer breeze, light and teasing. For a long moment that was all there was, the murmur of his thumb over her cheekbone, the slide of his fingertips over her jaw. His gaze seemed to devour her, never settling but shifting and seeking, as if he could memorize the way she looked now, in this instant. Whe
n he finally lowered his mouth to hers, tipping her chin up with the gentlest pressure, the kiss was soft and quiet—and made her blood sing right down to her feet. There was heat there, and tightly leashed desire made all the more powerful for how carefully it was controlled.

  Her toes nearly curled at the simplest brush of lips against lips. Her breath came faster, her skin prickling. He moved away, looking down at her. His eyes smoldered like molten gold, glittering in the instant before it was poured and cooled. Only this gold wouldn’t cool, wouldn’t harden. She already knew that.

  Nat smiled. “Let’s go inside.”

  He nodded wordlessly, eyes still on her as if he couldn’t get his fill. When she turned she felt him watching, his hand sliding from her face down her body, leaving a blazing trail in its wake. It settled on her hip, maintaining contact as if to break it might break them as well.

  The main aisle was cool, the temperature beginning to drop now that the sun had set. The contrast from the heat of Cole’s touch to the chill of the air made her shiver briefly.

  “Cold?” His voice rumbled along her skin. She wondered if it had always been that deep, that sexy, and if so how she hadn’t noticed before.

  “Not really.” They stepped out of the barn, off the shock-absorbing rubber mats and onto the soft sand. The overhead light flickered on, bathing everything in blue and white. One horse called quietly to another, making sure all was safe. The house sprawled as they turned toward it, promising safety under the moon and starlight.

  The moths in Nat’s stomach hadn’t quit. Wings fluttered against her, dancing with nervous energy. Cole’s arm slid around her waist, bringing her close to his side. She could feel his muscles shift under his T-shirt with every step, every balance change. She had never been so aware of another human in her life. Not like this. Not with this sensual energy, this attention to the muscular body beside hers, the feeling of breath-held nervousness with the knowledge that he would never purposefully hurt her. He might break her heart, but he would never try to shatter her spirit.

  The steps echoed hollowly as they walked up them, each trod a muffled thump. The screen door opened with a sigh of hinges, and closed behind them to lock the world out. The house was dark, secretive. It curled around them, hiding Cole until he was no more than a large presence beside her, strong and warm. Nat felt him move closer. Her breath caught in her throat, hesitating over her teeth.