by Wild Horses
Adam plucked off his hat, leaned back in his chair, and ran a hand back through his thick dark hair. Gus might have a point. Maybe.
But then the image of that woman hiding her face as Bud ran for the grain. No, there were normal women, and then there were women who had no business at a ranch—and she was firmly in the latter category.
“She’ll work hard,” Gus promised him. “You’ll see. Let her get settled and maybe give her a tour this afternoon, point out what you’ll have her do. I’m sure you’ll have her trained in no time.”
****
Adam walked down the dark, narrow hall with doors closed to all the bedrooms—all but one, that is. The guest room door lay ajar about a foot, natural light cutting across the hardwood. Shadows shifted against the corridor wall, the room’s occupant moving about.
He paused at the sound of her voice murmuring—just hers, probably on the phone. Unless she was crazy and talked to herself. Which he figured was in the realm of possibility.
She passed the open door, pausing with her back to him. A phone was held to her ear, her free hand idly tapping the wrought iron bedpost.
His gaze traveled over her curly dark hair, down her back, to the swell of her jean-clad behind and shapely legs. His heart thumped a little harder and he swallowed a lump in his throat, a flush working through his face. He couldn’t decide what made him feel douchier: standing there watching her while she was unaware or that he was actually turned on by the sight of someone he’d already decided he really didn’t like.
“I know, I know,” she said with a sigh. “No internet. I promise. Yeah, I’ll call soon.”
As she ended the call, he blinked and mentally gave himself a shake. It was two more steps to the door, which he took and then knocked loudly, clearing his throat.
The door creaked open an inch under his fist and she glanced over her shoulder. Her eyes widened then narrowed, irritation sparking in their dark depths. Attitude came off her in waves and set off his dark mood as well.
“I’m to show you around the property,” he said crisply.
Her gaze settled into a glare. She cast her phone on the bed, turned, and walked toward him, heeled sandals clicking on the hardwood. He thought about suggesting she change her footwear, but decided against it.
Some people had to learn the hard way.
Adam slipped his Stetson back on as he led her down the hallway. “We start at six a.m.”
“In the morning?” Her voice was laced with distress.
He rolled his eyes. “That is usually what ‘a.m.’ entails, princess.”
She scowled.
The hallway opened into the ranch’s large living room and foyer. Sofas had Navajo blankets draped over them and the decor was decidedly southwestern with yellows, burnt orange, turquoise, and flecks of white. Beyond the living room was the large, round dining room table and place setting for ten, though rarely were there ever that many people around it.
He gestured past the dining room to the yellow walls of the kitchen. “Initial chores at six, breakfast served at seven sharp. If you have any dietary concerns, tell Dewey, as he does the cooking.”
“As long as I have a low fat vanilla soy chai latte, I’m good.”
He stopped and looked at her with a frown. “A what?”
“A low fat vanilla soy chai latte.”
Goddamn city girl. “We have coffee. And tea. And water.”
She grumbled under her breath and crossed her arms under her ample chest. It thrust her breasts up, boasting tantalizing cleavage in her tight, light blue tank top, and he glanced away before she caught him looking.
“Do you at least have beer?”
“Not for breakfast.”
She waved him off. “That’ll do, then. Continue.”
He prickled at her dismissive tone but said nothing.
The sun was high and hot when they stepped outside, heat waves moving off the ground in the distance. His boots kicked up dust as he strode forward and he gave it about five minutes before she was complaining about a pebble in her damn designer shoes.
“Until Riding Camp in a week, you’ll report to me at eight every morning and I’ll give you tasks for the day.”
“Will you always be grouchy?”
He cut her a look. “Probably.” He gestured to the paddock off to the right. “Before breakfast, Dewey turns all horses in the stalls out there—”
“Why do they get to be in stalls and the ones in the field out there don’t?”
His temper flared at the interruption but he pushed it down again. “Because they’re grain-fed by us and need to be caught easily.”
“What do the ones in the big field eat?”
“Hay.”
“Why don’t they get grain?”
“Because they’re boarded here, and most of their owners come down to give them grain themselves, and will you shut the hell up so I can continue?”
She blinked at him, unfazed.
Jesus. “Your job will probably be to help him with that before breakfast,” he continued. “Do whatever he tells you to. After breakfast, I’ll probably have you shovel out the stalls, but it might vary day to day.”
She made a face but wisely said nothing.
“We have a barrel race and show on Saturday and there’s a barn dance afterward.”
A snort of a laugh left her lips, which she disguised with a cough, her pink-painted nails coming up to cover her mouth.
“There will be a lot of preparations and things to be done. I’ll give you a list on Friday—overseeing drinks and snacks, collecting—”
“Food and drink—you’re giving me the girly stuff?” This time she snorted rather unflatteringly and didn’t try to hide it.
Adam fumed. “I’m sure as hell not leaving you in charge of the horses.”
“I can handle the horses just fine.”
Dear God, he was going to kill her before the day was up. “Because you’ve demonstrated so much skill already?”
She planted her hands on her curvy hips, glaring up at him. Sun brought a sheen to her brow and her hair glowed. “I’ll have you know, I took riding lessons for three years when I was a kid.”
“English?”
“Huh?”
He sighed. “Right.” His gaze drifted to Patches, a paint draft grazing out in the paddock. She was three years old, not full grown but usually good natured—just stubborn as hell. Adam fought the grin on his lips. “Okay then, Miss English Rider Who Has No Problem with Horses.” He gestured to leads hanging outside the barn. “Go ahead and grab a lead. Head out there to the black and white mare. Bring her over to the trough for some hay.”
She stared at the horse frowning.
“If you’d rather—”
Her chin lifted defiantly. “No problem.”
Chapter Three
Of course, Danyiah skipped half of her riding lessons and horses sort of terrified her, what with them being the size of a small car, but she wasn’t about to let that jackass know it.
She strode past him with her head held high. Her hair was heavy and hot on the back of her neck, so she scooped it up, twisted it tight, and drew it into a loose knot at the back of her head. It would do until she could properly bind it back. Sun immediately warmed her neck and it wasn’t until she was in the shade by the barn that she could stop squinting.
The nylon leads all hung in a row, at least a dozen of them. Colors were once bright but now were scuffed up and streaked with dirt—probably like her poor shoes were. She selected a baby blue one because it matched her shirt and coiled it in her hands as she looked out at the paddock.
Two gates—she’d take the one on the left. The horse he’d indicated stood off to the side, her head over the fence and cajoling with a horse in the back field. She looked...big. Big for something young and not fully grown.
Cooper was watching—she felt his heavy gaze on her. She stalked toward the gate and stopped as pebbles kicked up into her high heeled sandals.
High heels. Oh. That would probably be a bad idea.
Cooper coughed in what sounded like an attempt to cover a chuckle. “There are extra boots just inside the barn.”
She wanted to argue but she was stubborn, not stupid. Trekking through the dirt and under horse feet would be a dumb idea in her heels. She slung the lead over the fence and headed inside the musty, cool barn.
A rack of dusty cowboy boots sat off to the side in various sizes and she didn’t even want to know whose feet might’ve been in them. She made a face and stepped forward, scanning for something that didn’t look gross and old.
No such luck.
She did find a box of those disposable pseudo socks like her favorite shoe store had, so she plucked out two, slipped them on, and then eased her feet into a pair of old black cowboy boots. The damn things fit funny, narrow toe seeming too long.
First thing she would do after these “chores” was order a proper pair of her own.
Except I’m not allowed to go online. Goddamn it. Maybe there was a store in Stirling Falls.
She emerged from the barn to an audience of not just Cooper but Dewey as well; the other man stood on the bottom of the fence, arms slung over the top board, and mouth boasting a huge grin.
“Hey there!” he called, tipping his hat off for a moment in greeting.
Dani tried to smile warmly even as her stomach was in knots. “Hi.”
“Didn’t catch your name earlier.”
She almost said it again, but then this whole excursion—besides keeping away from her stalker—was about being someone else. That was how she treated all the challenges she faced for her blog: she became someone who could handle whatever it was she needed to do. And she had to be tougher.
“Jackson,” she called back to him.
“Well, Jackson, Patches is a good mare. You’ll have no trouble, I’m sure.”
At least one of us is.
She plucked the lead up again and went to the gate she’d decided on. A sign warned that the gate was to remain locked at all times, so after slipping through, she coiled the chain around the fence post again.
The black and white mare, Patches, glanced back at her and didn’t move.
Dani approached the horse slowly, scanning her memory for lessons from childhood and failing utterly to come up with anything. Be careful when behind it—that was one, right? She gave the horse a wide berth and moved to its left side instead. Patches gave her another look.
The damn horse was even bigger up close. Dani’s hands flexed on the lead as she drew nearer.
Patches watched.
The horse didn’t flinch when Dani eased the end of the lead onto the halter. She gave it a tug.
Patches didn’t budge.
“C’mon,” she said with a sigh. Another tug. More nothing. She tugged again. “Um...c’mon, girl. Let’s get some hay. Mmm, yummy hay!”
Patches blinked some more at her and didn’t move.
The men chuckled behind her and her cheeks flamed. Dani grasped the lead with both hands, braced her feet on the ground, and gave the lead a tug.
The horse abruptly turned and started walking; Dani nearly landed on her ass. She stumbled a few steps, righted herself, and grinned. That wasn’t so bad. And Cooper could go ahead and choke on her success—
Then Patches planted her great, wide hoof on Dani’s right foot and didn’t move.
“Shit!” Danyiah’s eyes grew huge and she let out a squeak of pain.
Tears sprang to her eyes; she blinked them back, or tried to, but they kept coming. Her fingers splayed, hands braced on the horse and she pushed, trying to urge her to move, swallowing back a cry, but it was like pushing on a wall.
Oh please move, oh please move... She pushed harder at the horse who just stared ahead, and agony zigzagged through her foot. Her toes could be broken. Oh God, her toes could be broken! Frustrated tears fell freely.
A moment later, steps beat on the ground behind her. Cooper made a clucking noise with his tongue and called Patches, shaking something in his cupped hand.
Immediately the horse moved toward him.
Dani scrambled back, out of the way of the rest of the feet, and tripped. She landed hard on her ass in the dirt, still gasping in pain, her eyes stinging with tears she tried not to shed.
Any moment he’d laugh. She knew it. And she’d take off her damn boot and throw it at him if—
Cooper dropped to kneel at her side, brushing the last of the grain he’d fed the horse on his thighs.
“I think I’m broken,” she whispered in a frustrated whine.
“Nah, probably not.” He shifted, dirt scraping under his soles, and reached for her right boot.
“Have you seen those feet?” She glanced at Patches dinner plate size hooves and shuddered.
“Just means the weight is more distributed, bigger like that. It’s the tiny quarter horse feet you gotta worry about it.”
“She okay?” Dewey called.
No, I’m horrible, and I want to go home.
Cooper eased off her boot. “She’s fine. Riding lessons start in an hour—how about you put out the pylons in the outdoor arena?”
Dewey cast another worried glance at them, then nodded.
“It might be broken,” she insisted with a grumble.
Cooper turned her foot back and forth with care, bending the toes. He glanced up to gauge her reaction, gaze meeting hers. His eyes were dark, yes, but this close she realized they were a navy blue and a shiver worked through her. For a moment she entirely forgot that the pain she was in was all his fault, aware only of his gentle, electric touch on her skin and sexy gaze watching her.
“Not broken,” he repeated as he set her foot down again. “You’ll be fine, princess.”
She glanced away and brushed her dusty forearm over her sweat-damp forehead. In addition to proper cowboy boots—with steel toes—she was going to need a hat in this sun.
Cooper noticed, plucked the Stetson from his head, and dropped it on hers. “I should’ve shown you how to walk a horse first. I’m sorry.”
The Stetson was a bit too big and fell over her eyes. She pushed it up to frown at him. “Well, yeah, you should’ve. You knew the horse would do that!”
“I did not.” He leaned back on his heels, glaring at her.
“You knew it would do something to probably injure me.”
“I figured she’d stand there and be useless. You’re the one who claimed to have done riding lessons.”
She threw her hands up. “Like a million years ago!”
His lips pulled into a tight line and he took a deep breath. “Come sit off to the side, and I’ll give you a quick lesson for dealing with horses tomorrow. Okay?”
She bit her lip. Nodded. Damn it, he made her feel like a child and she wanted to smack him with the boot again, but maybe she did sort of, kinda, walk into this one by acting like a know-it-all. She grasped the boot but didn’t bother to put it back on and struggled to rise.
Cooper grasped her elbow, surprisingly gentle, and helped her onto her feet—or foot, that is. She hobbled along without putting much weight on the right, Cooper’s grip never leaving her arm until he had her settled half sitting on the edge of the hay trough and half leaning against the fence.
Patches stood three feet away, still chewing whatever Cooper had given her, and eyed Danyiah. Dani made a face and the horse tipped its head back, exposing its teeth in a laugh.
“Real charming,” Dani muttered under her breath and turned her attention to Cooper for his lesson.
NEW POST: Draft Mode
So I was nearly trampled by a horse today. And then stepped on by one.
Of course, there is no video or photos—I was otherwise engaged. See the part about horses on my feet.
BUT I will thrill you now with a video re-enacting both my “I’m about to be trampled by a horse” face and my “I’ve been stepped on by a horse” face.
Here we go.
Chapter Four
; She was going to kill him.
Sure, it might get her kicked off the farm. And arrested. But in prison, her stalker couldn’t get her and she could probably increase her blog hits exponentially by posting about the experience.
It was a plan.
Adam taught riding lessons to a handful of people from town on Tuesday morning and had tasked her with retrieving some of the horses needed from the field. Seemed simple enough except that the field stretched on for what felt like miles and the horses, of course, insisted on standing at the very end of it.
Damn him. And damn the horses. Honestly, it was like they all conspired together to make her insane.
She trudged up a hill through tall, weedy grass in patches that touched her knees, her borrowed cowboy boots pinching painfully as she walked. The sky was an almost inhuman bright blue, crisp and cloudless. It would be a good day to lounge around the pool, but thus far she’d only been able to gaze longingly at it by the house before being sent off to do another of Cooper’s tasks.
She had a baseball hat on since she hadn’t been shopping yet, and that along with shades managed to keep the bright, late morning sun from her eyes. Though she’d lathered up with sun screen, her bare shoulders and the back of her neck felt like they were burning.
Dani officially hated the ranch.
Two of the required horses previously went easy enough, but a pair of roan quarter horses stood near the far fence, staring at her as she approached with two leads. She hadn’t been stepped on again. Yet. But then the day was still young.
Dani clucked her tongue at the horses, hoping they might start following without her having to put the leads on and drag them, but no such luck. With a sigh, she went to the first and latched onto its halter. It tugged its head up, twisting back and forth.
This is promising.
She hooked the other lead onto the second horse’s halter. They both eyed her warily.
“If you step on my feet, you’ll be in big trouble,” she warned as she gave them a tug. “Probably. Stupid Cooper will probably laugh his stupid head off but I will be sad about it and we don’t want that, do we? C’mon.” She pulled again and the horses followed, one on either side. For a moment, pride swelled as she walked them back down the hill—they were listening. Maybe she wasn’t so bad at this after—