Wild Mustang Man

by Carol Grace

  Why couldn’t he be content with that? He’d been perfectly happy these past two years, raising Max and horses on his own. Well, maybe not happy, but content Now, since she’d arrived, he wanted more. What exactly he wanted he refused to think about.

  His mind drifted back to the other evening out on the grass when he’d seized an excuse to put his arms around her. He couldn’t get over how soft and sweet she was. How she’d melted into his arms like warm taffy and stayed there. If it weren’t for Max they might still be there, locked together, watching the sun set and rise and set again. Because he didn’t want to let her go. He might be wrong but he didn’t think she wanted to go, either. All the more reason not to encourage her. All the more reason to ignore her. Ignore a feisty package of guts and determination who at a moment’s notice could turn deliciously sweet and supple in his arms? No way.

  He glanced at the sky as if he could see Molly’s puzzled face in the clouds. Talk about guilt. She’d never forgive him for such traitorous thoughts. “It won’t happen again,” he muttered to himself, and to Molly, too, if she was listening.

  As if Molly was testing him, or maybe he was just testing himself, he heard the sound of a car in the distance. His horse heard it, too. It could have been anybody. But it wasn’t. It was her. She pulled into his driveway and slammed her car door. He turned back to his horse, trying once again to halter her. But his horse was as jumpy as he was and refused his attempts.

  When he glanced up she was there. Backlit against the sun, her body was outlined in gold sunlight He shaded his eyes with his hand and stared at her as if she’d stepped out of his dream. But she was real, just as real as she’d been the other evening. Just as sexy and just as desirable and just as big a threat to his peace of mind.

  He opened his mouth to say something like, “What do you want?”

  But she spoke first.

  “I’m sorry to bother you,” she said.

  “I’ll bet” he muttered under his breath.

  “But I need to take a few more pictures. If you don’t mind.”

  “And if I do?”

  “I still need them,” she said. “You go ahead and do what you’re doing. You won’t even know I’m here.”

  Yeah, right, he thought, clenching his hands into fists.

  “What are you doing?” she asked.

  He shot her an irritated look.

  “I’m sorry. I won’t say another word.”

  “Sure.”

  “You think I talk a lot?” she asked, moving closer to take a picture.

  “You promised not to bother me.”

  “How do I bother you?” she asked.

  “You really want to know?”

  “Yes, because...”

  She never got to finish her sentence. He threw the halter on the ground and jerked her Nikon from around her neck and set it on the fence post. She sucked in a sharp breath as his hands brushed against her breasts. Then with a ragged sound in the back of his throat, he hauled her into his arms and kissed her. She didn’t resist. It was inevitable. She knew it as well as he did. This energy that flowed between them, that had been there since the first day she walked into his house, was too real to be ignored.

  She kissed him back. He kissed her again and again. Each time deeper. Until their lips were fused and neither wanted to break apart They clung to each other, wordlessly, mindlessly. Taking only a moment to come up for air, she parted her lips and welcomed him in. Their tongues met and tangled. He plunged deeper, looking for heaven knew what—fulfillment warmth, acceptance....

  He got all that and more. She was as warm and generous and passionate as in his dreams. She wound her arms around his neck, her hands tangling in his hair, pulling him down, bringing him closer still. Their bodies meshed as if they were made for each other. Her breasts were crushed against his chest, his arousal pressed against her belly. His heart thundered, drowning out the warning signals, drowning out the voice in his head that told him this was wrong. He wanted more. He wanted all of her. He was shocked at how badly he wanted her. So badly that in a far corner of his mind he considered taking her to the barn or to a haystack.

  He slid his hands under her shirt to cup her breasts. So full, they fit so perfectly in his hands. She gasped and tugged at his shirt. Impatient, he lifted her off the ground. She wrapped her legs around his waist just like she’d done in his dreams. She caught her breath, then she kissed him again, this time light, feathery kisses along his jawline that made him so crazy with lust and longing that he actually started in the direction of the barn with her wrapped around his waist, her face buried in his neck.

  If it hadn’t been for his horse, whinnying and pawing the ground in a desperate attempt to get back into the corral, he didn’t know what might have happened. Reluctantly he set Bridget on the top rail of the fence. She was breathing hard. His gaze dropped to her breasts where her nipples pressed against her shirt and gave away her body’s response. He clenched his hands into fists to keep from lifting her right off that fence—the horse and the whole world be damned.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, his voice hoarse. “I was way out of line. I wasn’t thinking. I got carried away. It’s been so long....”

  She gripped the railing so tightly her knuckles turned white. “It wasn’t your fault.”

  “It won’t happen again,” he said.

  “Because of...” Her voice trailed off.

  “Because...that’s the way it is. We get one chance at love, and I had mine. I was married to the most wonderful woman in the world. And then I lost her. It was the most painful experience anyone could ever go through. I would never... I could never take a chance on love again, never marry anyone again. Because you never know how fast things can change. How cruel life can be. I had everything, then in the blink of an eye, I had nothing. Except Max, of course. If it hadn’t been for him, I couldn’t have gone on living.”

  “I see,” Bridget said, looking away, but not before he saw her blink back a tear. Was that tear for him?

  “Can you understand that?” he asked, his brow furrowed with concern.

  “Of course, but it’s been...how long?”

  “It doesn’t matter if it’s been two years or twenty. I’ll never forget the emptiness, the deep hole I couldn’t climb out of.” He shook his head, knowing he couldn’t make her understand. No one could who hadn’t gone through it

  “Is that what Molly would have wanted?” she asked, her eyes boring into his. “That you stay single and raise Max on your own?” she asked.

  “I don’t know. Probably not. It’s not about Molly. It’s about me and how I’ve pulled out of that black hole and how I never want to fall into it again. Do you know you sound like my father? But it’s no good playing “what if.” What if I’d died first? I’d want Molly to marry again. But the fact is she’s dead and I’m here. I have to do what I have to do.”

  He clenched his hands into fists. Of course he would have wanted Molly to marry again, to find someone else. He wouldn’t have wanted her to grow old alone. It was different for him. He liked being alone. He could almost see the years stretching ahead of him like a straight, four-lane highway. Imagined Max growing up, moving away and leaving him alone on the ranch. For some strange reason he felt an unexpected emptiness around his heart What in the hell was wrong with him today? All this talk about the past and the tragedy that had left him alone had made him question his future, the future he thought held no surprises. Now he was starting to wonder.

  “Would it make you feel any better to blame me for what just happened? We could go halves at least,” she suggested with a wry smile.

  He shook his head. In spite of his determination not to let Bridget tempt him, in spite of his apology, his treacherous gaze took another look at her, lingering on the swell of her breasts, remembering, despite his vow, how they’d felt in his hands. He imagined how she’d look without that shirt, without that lace bra. He would never know. “About the pictures,” he said, yanking himself back t
o reality.

  She hopped off the fence, took her camera and fiddled with the adjustments. Was it his imagination or were her hands shaking?

  Bridget took picture after picture without knowing what she was doing. They might all be overexposed, like her feelings for Josh. They could be blurry and out of focus, which was how the world looked to her at this point. She didn’t care. All she wanted to do was to get out of there before she made more of a fool of herself than she’d already done. She’d thrown herself at a man who was wedded to his mate forever. Like a humming bird—or was it a penguin? Destined to live out his life paying homage to her memory.

  To fill the awkward silence while she took the pictures, she told Josh she’d met his old high school classmates.

  “You didn’t tell them about the men’s cologne, did you?” he asked, his eyebrows drawn together in a frown.

  “They already knew.”

  “Oh, fine. Now the whole town will know.”

  “It’s a small town,” she noted.

  “You’re observant”

  “I’m sorry, but there are men who would be flattered to be chosen as the Wild Mustang Man.”

  “Well I’m not one of them.”

  “I understand that,” she said stiffly. “But since you are the chosen one, at least I hope these pictures will convince the client that you are....”

  Josh glanced off in the direction of his house. “Oh, Lord,” he said. “It’s my mother,” he said. “Is that it? Are you finished?”

  He doesn’t want me to see her, or he doesn’t want her to see me, she thought. “Yes, I’m finished. Don’t worry. I won’t tell anyone about this. And I promise to keep my hands off you from now on.” She tried to give her words a light touch, but they came out sounding bitter. That’s how she felt. She couldn’t help it. She’d had a deeply moving experience, deeply sensual and erotic, she thought it might have meant something to him, but obviously it was just a release of tension. Or so he would have her believe.

  “Keep your hands off,” he muttered. “If it was only that simple.”

  She’d just screwed her lens cap on her camera when his mother arrived at the corral. Bridget managed to bestow a bright smile on the older woman. “It’s good seeing you again. Well, I’m off.”

  “Don’t run off on my account,” Joan Gentry said. “I’ve been trying to call you all day,” she told Josh. “I should have known you’d be out here. I wanted to remind you of your father’s birthday on Sunday. He’s sixty, so we’re having a party.”

  “A party,” Josh said scowling at Bridget. Bridget knew what it meant. He wanted her to go now, to leave before something awful happened like his mother inviting her to the party too. She shifted from one foot to the other. But she couldn’t just leave. His mother might think she was rude when she’d told her not to run off.

  “Yes, nothing extravagant. He wouldn’t like that. But the whole family will be there, Lauren, Martha and the boys. And some neighbors. Will you still be in town, Bridget?”

  “Me? Oh, I don’t think... I mean my plans are up in the air.”

  “Because we’d love to have you join us, wouldn’t we Josh?”

  “We’d love it,” he said

  “Well, in that case,” Bridget said, as if she hadn’t recognized the sarcasm in his tone. He glared at her. His discomfort was so apparent she almost laughed. To repay him for kissing her and then apologizing, for lighting her fire and then dousing it before it had a chance to burn, she told his mother she’d be delighted to come to the birthday party. Then she took her camera and left. She knew he was watching her. She felt the heat of his gaze as she walked down the path to the barn and all the way to her car. She knew she’d annoyed him. That was nothing compared to what he’d done to her.

  He’d unleashed the passion deep inside her she hadn’t known existed. He’d made her feel, and made her want what she couldn’t have. Him. And there was nothing she could do about it; he’d made that quite clear. She was beginning to regret having accepted his mother’s invitation. How awkward was it going to be, seeing him surrounded by his family? Would they guess something was going on between them by the way he would studiously ignore her? Would they know how much she was attracted to Josh? And would they feel sorry for her because they knew she hadn’t a hope in hell of attracting him?

  Two long days went by. She sent the new photos which absolutely wowed the Wild Mustang people, according to Kate. They weren’t out of focus and they weren’t overexposed. But they did need some video footage of possible settings on the ranch. Bridget walked up Main Street after a long conversation with Kate and looked around.

  There wasn’t much to see, a few wranglers sitting on a bench in front of the general store, a truckload of hay slowly lumbering down the street. The waitress from the diner standing in front of the bank, waiting for it to open. Then she thought about the noise, the traffic, the smog in the city. She thought of how Tally and Suzy had been friends since high school and would probably stay friends along with the others in their class for years. Her friends in the city were friends from work, likely to move or be transferred at any time.

  Just then Suzy came walking down the street in her direction waving to get her attention.

  “I just wanted to tell you I’m having a party,” she said. “A week from Saturday. I hope you can come. After we met you, I got to thinking about Josh and everything. Tally and I decided we’d failed him. We’d let him bury himself on his ranch. So I decided to take the bull by the horns, or whatever, and get the old gang together again. What’s left of us, that is. You’ll still be here, won’t you?” she asked anxiously.

  “Probably.” Bridget said. “But I’m not part of the gang.”

  “You will be. Everyone’s dying to meet you.”

  Bridget smiled. “That’s nice. What can I bring?”

  “Just yourself. We’ll have a barbecue outside, because my house is really small, but my yard is big. Big enough for a volleyball net. I live in town. You can walk there from here.”

  Bridget wanted to ask if Josh was coming, but she was afraid to act too interested.

  “The amazing thing is that I talked Josh into coming,” Suzy said. “I must be more persuasive than I thought.”

  A flutter of butterflies stirred in Bridget’s stomach. What had Suzy said to convince Josh to come? One thing she knew for sure. She hadn’t told him she intended to invite Bridget, or the answer would have been a resounding no.

  “You didn’t mention the cologne commercial, did you?” Bridget asked.

  “No, I don’t think I did. But he knows I know. I mean, what’s the big secret? I did mention meeting you. And I told him I’d ask you to the party, too. Just as an added incentive.”

  Incentive? If she only knew. “And he didn’t back out?” she asked.

  “Of course not. Why should he?”

  He might be afraid she’d attack him again. “No reason. Well, it was good to see you again,” Bridget said. Then she went to her room and loaded her minicam in the car. She had to go to the ranch, but she was afraid to. How was she going to avoid Josh if she was taking pictures of his ranch?

  Settings, she reminded herself. Just settings. She didn’t need him in the settings. And if she saw him she’d be cool and self-contained. She’d look at him with calm detachment and not let herself be swept off her feet. But first she’d call and tell him she was coming. Then he could be as prepared as she was.

  Max answered the phone. He said his dad was outside someplace. He said Bridget should come out right away, because he had things to show her.

  She smiled to herself. If it weren’t for Josh, she’d feel positively welcome in this town. Everyone else seemed to find her an agreeable addition. Except for him. He was no doubt counting the days until she left.

  Max met her at the gate to the ranch on his bicycle.

  “Are you...are you alone?” she asked him after she’d parked her car in the driveway.

  “My dad’s out that way.” He wave
d his hand in a westerly direction. “He’s got his phone with him so I can call if there’s a ‘mergency. I told him you were coming. Said he’ll be home for lunch.”

  She decided she’d be gone by then.

  “First come and see my pet rat,” Max said.

  She gave a little shudder. “A rat?”

  “He’s white. Grandma doesn’t like him, but he’s real friendly.”

  “Is he in a cage?” Bridget asked anxiously as she followed Max down the hall to his bedroom.

  “Yeah, but I can take him out and let you hold him.”

  “Really? I don’t know if I’m ready for that, Max.”

  Max wove his way through his collection of miniature cars and trucks spread out on the floor of his room, motioning Bridget to follow him to the bookcase where the rat resided in a large wood and mesh cage lined with fresh wood shavings. There was an automatic water spout in one corner and some lettuce in a dish. Someone cared for this rat, that much was obvious.

  “Wake up, Barney,” Max said. Obediently the rat came out of his empty soup can, blinked in the bright daylight, then stood on his back legs and looked out at them, his whiskers twitching.

  Max unlatched the cover and picked up the rat. “Wanna hold him?” he asked Bridget.

  Bridget swallowed hard. She looked at the rat. It was cute. Kind of. But still a rat. She reached out with one finger and touched its fur. It was soft. It wasn’t so bad. She looked into its beady eyes. Max took that to be a yes. He set the rat in her open palm. She bit her lip, but held her hand steady. The seconds dragged by. “Okay, that’s enough for today,” she said.