by Sandra Brown
Alex had dressed appropriately in old boots and jeans. Even though her hands were gloved in kid leather, she raised her fists to her mouth and blew on them for additional warmth. She took a pair of sunglasses out of her coat pocket and slid them on to combat the sunlight. From behind their tinted lenses, she watched Reede. He was standing at the rail clocking the horses between the timing poles placed every sixteenth of a mile.
She held back a moment to study him unobserved. Instead of the leather bomber jacket, he had on a long, light-colored duster. One boot was propped on the lowest rail of the fence, a stance that drew attention to his narrow buttocks and long thighs.
The boot she could see was scuffed and well worn. His jeans were clean, but the hems were frayed, their denim threads bleached white. It occurred to her that the flies of all his jeans were similarly worn, and she was shocked to realize that she knew that.
His wrists were propped on the top fence rail, his hands dangling over the other side. He was wearing leather gloves, the same ones he’d had on when he’d pulled her against him the other night and held her while she cried. It was odd, and deliciously disturbing, to reflect on how his hands had moved over her back with nothing except a terry-cloth robe separating them from her nakedness. A stopwatch lay in the palm of the hand that had cupped her head and pressed it against his chest.
He had on the cowboy hat she’d first seen him in, pulled down low over his brows. Dark blond hair brushed the collar of his coat. When he turned his head, she noticed that the angles of his profile were sharp and clear. There were no indecisive shapes, no subtle contours. When he breathed, a vapor formed around the lips that had kissed her damp hair after he’d told her about Celina’s body.
“Let ’em go,” he shouted to the practice riders. His voice was as masculine as all his features. Whether he was shouting orders or making innuendos, it never failed to elicit a response low in her body.
As the horses came around—four, in all—their hooves pounded and raised clumps of turf that a track conditioner had loosened earlier that morning. Flaring nostrils sent up billows of steam.
When the riders slowed them to a walk, they were directed back toward the stables. Reede called out to one. “Ginger, how’s he doing?”
“I’ve been holding him back. He’s bouncy.”
“Give him his head. He wants to run. Walk him around once, then let him go again.”
“Okay.”
The diminutive rider, who Alex hadn’t initially realized was a young woman, tipped the bill of her cap with her quirt and nudged her splendid mount back onto the track.
“What’s his name?”
Reede’s head came around. He speared Alex with eyes shaded against the sun only by the brim of his hat and a natural squint that had left him with appealing crow’s-feet at the outer corners of his eyes. “She’s a girl.”
“The horse?”
“Oh. The horse’s name is Double Time.”
Alex moved up beside him at the rail and rested her forearms on it. “Is he yours?”
“Yes.”
“A winner?”
“He keeps me in pocket change.”
Alex watched the rider crouched over the saddle. “She seems to know just what to do,” she remarked. “That’s a lot of horse for such a tiny person to handle.”
“Ginger’s one of the Mintons’ best gallop boys—that’s what they’re called.” He returned his attention to the horse and rider as they came around the track at a full-out gallop. “Atta boy, atta boy,” he whispered. “Comin’ through like a pro.” He whooped when Double Time streaked past them, a blur of well-coordinated muscle, agility, and immense strength.
“Good work,” Reede told the rider when she brought the horse around.
“Better?”
“Several seconds better.”
Reede had more encouraging words for the horse. He patted him affectionately and spoke in a language the animal seemed to understand. The stallion pranced off friskily, tail fanning, knowing that a rewarding breakfast was awaiting him in the stable for having performed so well for his owner.
“You seem to have a real rapport with him,” Alex observed.
“I was there the day his sire covered the mare. I was there when he was foaled. They thought he was a dummy, and wanted to put him down.”
“A what?”
“A dummy’s a foal that was deprived of oxygen during the birthing.” He shook his head as he watched the horse enter the stable. “I didn’t think so. I was right. His lineage indicated he had every chance to be good, and he has been. Never a disappointment. Always runs his heart out, even when he’s outclassed.”
“You’ve got good reason to be proud of him.”
“I guess.”
Alex wasn’t fooled by his pretended indifference. “Do they always run the horses full out like that?”
“No, they’re breezing them today, seeing how they run against each other. Four days a week, they’re galloped once or twice around the track. Comparable to a jog. Two days after breezing them, they’re just walked.”
He turned and headed toward a saddled horse that was tied to a fence post. “Where are you going?”
“Home.” He mounted with the loose-limbed grace of a range cowboy.
“I need to talk to you,” Alex cried in consternation.
He bent down and extended his hand. “Get on.” From beneath the brim of his hat, green eyes challenged her.
She pushed her sunglasses higher on the bridge of her nose and approached the horse with an outward show of confidence she didn’t actually feel.
Clasping Reede’s hand was the tough part. He hauled her up with very little effort, though it was left to her to get situated between his buttocks and the sloping back of the saddle.
That was disconcerting enough, but when he kneed the horse forward, Alex threw herself against his broad back. Out of necessity, her arms encircled his waist. She was careful to keep her hands well above his belt. Her mind wasn’t as easy to control. It kept straying to his damned, well-worn fly.
“Warm enough?” he asked her over his shoulder.
“Yes,” she lied.
She had thought his long white duster with the steep pleat in the back was all for show. She’d never seen one outside a Clint Eastwood western. Now, however, she realized the coat was designed to keep a rider’s thighs warm.
“Who were you meeting in the bar last night?”
“That’s my business, Reede. Why did you follow me?”
“That’s my business.”
Impasse. For the time being, she let it go. She had a file of questions she wanted to ask him, but it was difficult to keep her mind on her task when her open cleft kept bumping into his hips with each rocking motion of the horse. She blurted out the first question that came to mind. “How did you and my mother get to be such close friends?”
“We grew up together,” he said dismissively. “It started out on the jungle gym on the school playground and evolved as we got older.”
“It never became awkward?”
“Nope. We had no secrets from each other. We’d even played doctor a few times.”
“ ‘I’ll show you mine if you’ll show me yours’?”
He grinned. “You must’ve played doctor, too.”
Alex didn’t rise to the bait, knowing that he was trying to sidetrack her. “I guess the two of you eventually grew out of that stage.”
“We didn’t play doctor anymore, no, but we talked about everything. No subject was taboo between Celina and me.”
“Isn’t that the kind of relationship a girl usually has with another girl?”
“Usually, but Celina didn’t have many girlfriends. Most of the girls were jealous of her.”
“Why?” Alex already knew the answer. She knew even before he shrugged, a move that rubbed his shoulder blade against her breast. Alex was hardly able to speak. She had to force herself to ask. “It was because of you, wasn’t it? Her friendship with you?”
Inertia pushed her forward, closer to him. Instinctively, she hugged his torso tighter. He made a grunting sound. She asked, “What’s the matter?”
“Nothing.”
“You sounded… uncomfortable.”
“If you were a guy sitting astride a horse taking a steep incline and were being crammed against the pommel of the saddle so that your manhood pushed into your lap, you’d be uncomfortable, too.”
“Oh.”
“Jesus,” he swore beneath his breath.
Until the ground leveled out, there was an awkward silence between them, broken only by the horse’s clumping tread as he carefully picked his way over the rocky ground. To hide her embarrassment and keep the cold wind off her, Alex buried her face in the flannel-lined collar of his coat. Eventually, she said, “So, Mother came to you with all her problems.”
“Yes. When she didn’t, and I knew something was wrong, I went to her. One day she was absent from school. I got worried and went to her house during lunch break. Your grandmother was at work, so Celina was there alone. She’d been crying. I got scared and refused to leave until she told me what was wrong.”
“What was the matter?”
“She got her period for the first time.”
“Oh.”
“From what I gathered, Mrs. Graham had made her feel ashamed of it. She’d told her all kinds of horror stories about Eve’s curse—crap like that.” There was disapproval in his voice. “Was she that way with you?”
Alex shook her head no, but didn’t remove it from the protection of his collar. His neck was warm, and smelled like him. “Not that severe. Maybe Grandma had become more enlightened by the time I reached puberty.” Until Reede reined in the horse and dismounted, Alex hadn’t realized that they’d reached a small frame house. “What about Mother?”
“I consoled her and told her that it was normal, nothing to be ashamed of, that she had officially become a woman.” He looped the reins around a hitching post.
“Did it work?”
“I guess so. She stopped crying and—”
“And…?” Alex prodded him to continue, knowing that he had omitted the most important part of the story.
“Nothing. Swing your leg over.” He reached up to help her down, taking her around the waist with sure, strong hands and lifting her to the ground.
“Something, Reede.”
She clutched the sleeves of his coat. His lips were drawn into a thin, stubborn line. They looked chapped and consummately masculine. She remembered looking at the newspaper picture of him kissing Celina when he crowned her homecoming queen. As before, Alex’s stomach swelled and receded like a wave far out in the gulf.
“You kissed her, didn’t you?”
He made an uneasy movement with his shoulder. “I’d kissed her before.”
“But that was the first real kiss, wasn’t it?”
He released her and, crossing the shallow front porch, thrust open the door. “You can come in or not,” he said over his shoulder, “it’s up to you.”
He disappeared through the door, leaving it open. Despondent but curious, Alex followed. The front door opened directly into the living room. Through an arched opening on her left, she could see a dining area and kitchen. A hallway on the opposite side presumably led into a bedroom, where she could hear him rummaging about. Absently, she closed the front door, removed her glasses and gloves, and looked around.
The house had the stamp of a bachelor. Furniture had been arranged for comfort and convenience, not with any decorative flair. He’d set his hat on a table and tossed his coat and gloves onto a chair. Other surfaces were clear, but the bookshelves were cluttered, as though straightening up amounted to cramming anything lying around onto a shelf. There were cobwebs in the corners of the ceiling that caught the sunlight as it poured in through the dusty venetian blinds.
He caught her looking up at one of the cobwebs as he reappeared, carrying a pair of aviator sunglasses. “Lupe sends one of her nieces out here every few weeks. It’s about that time.” It was an explanation, but hardly an excuse or apology. “Want some coffee?”
“Please.”
He went into the kitchen. Alex continued to walk around the room as she stamped circulation back into her frozen feet. Her attention was drawn to a tall trophy in one of the built-in bookshelves. “Most Valuable Player” was engraved on it in block letters, along with Reede’s name and the date.
“Is this the right color?” He had moved up behind her. When she turned he was holding a mug of coffee out to her. He had remembered to add milk.
“Fine, thanks.” Inclining her head toward the trophy, she asked, “Your senior year, right?”
“Hmmm.”
“That’s quite an honor.”
“I guess so.”
Alex noticed that he resorted to that catchall phrase when he wanted the conversation to end. He remained an enigma in all other respects. “You’re not sure it was an honor?”
He dropped into an easy chair and thrust his feet out in front of him. “I felt then, and still feel, that I had a good team backing me up. The other nominated players were just as valuable as me.”
“Junior?”
“He was one of them, yeah,” he replied, instantly defensive.
“But you won the award and Junior didn’t.”
His eyes glared at hers. “Is that supposed to be significant?”
“I don’t know. Is it?”
He gave a scoffing laugh. “Stop playing lawyer games with me and say what’s on your mind.”
“Okay.” She leaned against the padded arm of the sofa and considered him carefully as she asked, “Did Junior resent your getting named most valuable player?”
“Ask him.”
“Maybe I will. I’ll also ask Angus if he minded.”
“Angus couldn’t have been prouder the night of the awards banquet.”
“Except if his son had been named most valuable player instead of you.”
Reede’s expression turned stony. “You’re full of shit, you know that?”
“I’m sure Angus was proud of you, glad for you, but you can’t expect me to believe that he wouldn’t have rather seen Junior get the trophy.”
“Believe whatever you goddamn want to. It makes no difference to me.” He emptied his coffee mug in three swallows, set it on the low coffee table in front of him, then stood up. “Ready?”
She set her coffee down, too, but she made no move to leave. “Why are you so touchy about this?”
“Not touchy, bored.” He leaned down to put his face close to hers. “That trophy is a twenty-five-year-old, tarnished piece of junk that’s good for nothing except to collect dust.”
“Then, why have you kept it all these years?”
He plowed his fingers through his hair. “Look, it doesn’t mean anything now.”
“But it did then.”
“Precious little. Not enough to get me an athletic scholarship, which I was counting on to go to college.”
“What did you do?”
“I went anyway.”
“How?”
“A loan.”
“A government loan?”
“No, a private one,” he answered evasively.
“Who lent you the money—Angus?”
“So? I paid back every friggin’ cent of it.”
“By working for him?”
“Until I left ME.”
“Why’d you leave?”
“Because I’d paid him back and wanted to do something else.”
“That was as soon as you got out of college?”
He shook his head. “The air force.”
“You were in the air force?”
“Four years of officers’ training during college, then active duty after graduation. For six years my ass b
elonged to Uncle Sam. Two of those years were spent bombing gooks in Vietnam.”
Alex hadn’t known he’d been involved in the war, but she should have guessed. He’d been at draftable age during the height of it. “Did Junior serve, too?”
“Junior at war? Can you picture that?” he asked with a rough laugh. “No, he didn’t go. Angus pulled some strings and got him into the reserves.”
“Why not you, too?”
“I didn’t want him to. I wanted to go into the air force.”
“To learn to fly?”
“I already knew how to fly. I had my pilot’s license before I had my driver’s license.”
She contemplated him for a moment. The information was coming too fast and furious to absorb. “You’re just full of surprises this morning, aren’t you? I didn’t know you could fly.”
“No reason you should, Counselor.”
“Why aren’t there any pictures of you in uniform?” she asked, indicating the bookcase.
“I hated what I was doing over there. No mementos of wartime, thanks.” He backed away from her, picked up his hat, gloves, and coat, then went to the front door and ungraciously pulled it open.
Alex remained where she was. “You and Junior must have missed each other while you were serving your six years in the air force.”
“What’s that supposed to mean? Do you think we’re queer for each other?”
“No,” she said with diminishing patience. “I just meant that you’re good friends who, up till that point, had spent a lot of time together.”
He slammed the door closed and slung down his outerwear. “By then we were used to being apart.”
“You spent four years of college together,” she pointed out.
“No, we didn’t. We were attending Texas Tech at the same time, but since he was married—”
“Married?”
“Another surprise?” he asked tauntingly. “Didn’t you know? Junior got married just a few weeks after we graduated from high school.”
No, Alex hadn’t known that. She hadn’t realized that Junior’s first marriage had come on the heels of high school graduation, and consequently, so soon after Celina’s murder. The timing seemed strange.
“For a long while, then, you and Junior didn’t see much of each other.”