It was a testament to how tired Jordan had to be that he didn’t even pull a face. Horse bathing wasn’t exactly the most skilled of their labors, but cleaning a fractious mountain of muscle, bone, teeth, and hooves wasn’t exactly child’s play either. He’d need to keep his mind on what he was doing or he’d regret it.
Russ spent the whole day checking in on both Marina and Jordan, in addition to all his other charges. Phyl wanted to spend all day with Marina, but someone had to field phone calls and deal with all the minutia of running a charity, so the others took turns watching her.
Tish called at three to say Marina had a bacterial infection and to start her on some of the antibiotics they already had for a couple of the other sick horses, and she’d be by with the rest after work. But as it happened, they needed her sooner than that.
Marina went into labor a little over an hour later. Jordan was right there with her and Phyl before Russ even got back from making the phone call to Tish.
The poor mare shivered and groaned with discomfort, her flanks dewy with sweat as Jordan leaned close and murmured to her. Marina let out a shuddering breath and moved closer to Jordan, seeking comfort in her distress, and Russ’s throat got a little tight for a second before he swallowed the constriction down.
“Tish is on her way.”
“Will she be able to save the foal?” Jordan asked, still running a soothing hand over Marina’s neck and shoulder.
Russ grimaced, but Phyl was the one who answered gently, “From what the sheriff’s office got from the previous owners, she’s not even three hundred days, Jordan. There’s nothing we can do for the foal.”
Jordan’s jaw tightened, and he turned back to Marina without saying anything more.
The next few hours were a solemn affair. No one really said much beyond Tish’s orders. Jordan stayed at Marina’s head, soothing her, while they waited for enough of the foal to breech the canal so they could get a rope around it and pull it the rest of the way out. They all agreed Marina was still too weak from malnourishment and all the complications that came with it to be left to do it on her own, despite the mare’s obvious distress at having so many people crowding into her space.
Jordan worked a minor miracle there. He kept her calm and cooperative while they removed the poor little thing from the stall, and Tish made sure Marina was cleaned up and treated for the infection, inside and out. Thankfully, as far as they could tell, the foal hadn’t had time to turn septic, but they’d still have to keep a close eye on Marina until the infection passed.
After he and Phyl saw Tish out to her car and waved her on her way, Russ returned to the barn to find Jordan still standing at Marina’s head.
“Come on, Jordan. We should let her get some rest. One of the volunteers, Michelle, I think, has offered to stay until about eight or nine tonight so we can get some food in us and a little sleep ourselves.” When Jordan didn’t even twitch, Russ stepped closer. “Jordan?”
He called again, but it wasn’t until he put a hand on his shoulder that Jordan started out of whatever trancelike state he’d been in.
“What?”
Glazed blue eyes stared up at him. “Food. Bed. Rest, for all of us. It’s been a long day.”
With one last pat to Marina’s neck, Jordan allowed Russ to drag him from the barn.
“Do you think she’ll mourn her baby?” Jordan slurred as he shuffled along beside Russ.
“I don’t think so,” Russ said kindly. “She didn’t really get a chance to see it, let alone bond with it. But we’ll take good care of her, and hopefully, when she’s feeling better, her spirits will pick up too.”
“Good.”
Russ had no warning. One second Jordan was walking beside him. The next he dropped to the dirt like a box of rocks.
“Shit!”
Russ crouched next to him and rolled him over. Bleary blue eyes blinked up at him.
“When was the last time you ate or drank anything?” he growled.
Jordan’s eyebrows drew together, but he just stared as if he wasn’t quite getting what Russ was saying.
“Goddammit. Jon! Ernie! You guys still in the house?” he shouted.
Ernie came trotting from the yard to his left.
“Help me get this fool up the stairs,” Russ grated.
As he and Ernie got their arms under Jordan’s and helped him to his feet, Jon came out onto the porch.
“Jon, will you grab some Gatorade for this idiot?”
He deposited Jordan on one of the rockers on the front porch. Thankfully by then, Jordan was a bit more alert, so Russ didn’t have to worry about it being more than just a little exhaustion and dehydration at work.
“Drink,” Russ ordered as he shoved the plastic bottle Jon brought into Jordan’s hand.
Luckily, Jordan wasn’t fool enough to do anything beyond what he was told. He chugged about a third of it before trying to hand it back, but Russ folded his arms and glared. “All of it,” he growled.
Jordan sighed, but he put the bottle back to his lips. Satisfied the idiot was going to cooperate, Russ thanked Jon and Ernie and shooed them on their way. The dimwit didn’t need an audience.
While Jordan was drinking, Phyl came out and hovered for a bit, but once she was satisfied Jordan was feeling better, she went back inside to find food for everyone else. They were all feeling low and tired, and Russ assured her he could handle one fool of a man.
Once he’d drained the dregs from the bottle, Jordan grimaced and waved the plastic at Russ with a scowl. But that was fine by Russ. Cantankerous he could handle just fine.
“Good,” he said, “Now do you need help going upstairs to your bed, or can you manage it on your own?”
Jordan rolled his eyes. His stubborn jaw, now shadowed with dirty blond stubble and whatever grime he’d run into that afternoon, twitched like he was itching to argue, but Russ just scowled right back at him.
“There’s enough sugar in that Gatorade to tide you over while you rest, so where you’re going isn’t up for debate. The only thing you get to decide is how you get there.”
Jordan defiantly held his gaze for a few more seconds before slumping back in the chair and throwing up his hands. “Fine. I’ll go take a nap if it’s so damned important to you.” He brushed Russ’s offered hand to the side and stood. “I don’t need to be carried. I can get there on my own.”
Making a grand gesture of it, Russ held the screen door for the little shit, and then he waited at the bottom of the stairs until Jordan had disappeared from sight.
“Someone needs to get that kid a Snickers bar. He’s a real diva when he’s hungry.” Russ chuckled to himself as he made his way to the kitchen to fill his own belly and help Phyl find some food for the volunteer that was staying.
Maybe he should order and set up another security camera, actually in one of the stalls, so they could keep an eye on their more worrisome charges from the comfort of the house. Except the cameras didn’t show everything, and sometimes nothing beat a real person watching, listening, and even smelling for problems.
After running a tray out to Michelle in the barn, Russ went upstairs to check on Jordan. Sleeping Beauty was passed out cold on his bed. He’d taken the time to hose off in the shower before collapsing in a disordered heap on the mattress, because his hair was still wet, and as far as Russ could tell, he was naked under the sheet he’d draped over his lap.
Russ lingered in the doorway longer than he should have. Jordan Thorndike of the Virginia Thorndikes was, without a doubt, a beautiful man—perfectly put together, from his artfully highlighted dark blond hair to his elegant, pedicured feet.
He’s a hard worker, smart, funny, and with a good heart too… at least when it comes to the horses, a traitorous voice inside Russ’s head whispered.
Yeah, and he’s a vain, spoiled rich kid who’s been pampered every day of his life and has no idea what the real world is like, he argued back. He’s also got more issues than Reader’s Digest.
C
losing his eyes, Russ forced himself to turn around and leave. The image of Jordan naked and splayed out on rumpled sheets was burned into his brain, but the most he ever intended to do about it was pull it out for spanking material from time to time… or possibly every day until Jordan left for greener pastures.
Chapter Thirteen
THE ROOM was dark when Jordan woke. His phone on the nightstand said one thirty when he tapped the button. With a groan, he dragged himself upright. His head pounded, telling him he was probably still dehydrated, so after taking a quick leak, he downed a glass of water from the bathroom sink.
As he replayed the events of that afternoon, he cringed. He’d been really stupid not to stop and drink something in the Texas heat. He’d been so worried about Marina, he knew he wouldn’t be hungry, but he should have forced himself to drink. Crumpling to the dirt in front of Russ and everyone else was 100 percent mortifying. He was going to have real trouble facing any of them in the morning.
A quick glance in the mirror made him wince. His eyes were bloodshot and underscored with deep purple rings. His cheeks looked sunken and sallow.
“And you wondered why Russ didn’t jump all over this,” he grumbled to himself. “You should be lucky he didn’t run away screaming.”
Except he hadn’t looked this bad when he was flirting with Russ. He’d spent forever in front of the mirror to make sure of that, and Russ still hadn’t wanted him.
The rejection stung, no matter how many times he tried to convince himself that Russ was just an asshole who had a hang-up about rich people—that it was nothing personal. It felt personal. It felt all kinds of personal.
Not good enough.
That was what it always boiled down to. He wasn’t deluded about his looks, his abilities, or his intelligence. He had a decent amount of all of that… just never enough, it seemed, not for anyone in his life.
Closing his eyes, he dragged his hands down his face and shuffled out of the bathroom. If he kept looking in the mirror, the rest of the night might turn into a downward spiral of those kinds of thoughts and he’d be useless in the morning. It was Saturday. The weekenders would be coming, and both Phyllis and Russ had warned him of an impending Girl Scout troop they’d need his help with.
He shivered. After the emotional upheavals of that week, he wasn’t sure he had it in him to be “on” all day tomorrow. Maybe he should just tell Phyllis he wasn’t feeling well and stay in bed. He’d fainted, after all. She’d hardly begrudge him a bit of time off. It wasn’t like he was getting paid for his time.
An image of Russ’s disapproving scowl flashed in his mind and refused to be banished. Jordan couldn’t do it. Russ would probably make some crack about the trust-fund baby needing a personal day or something. He’d already shown enough weakness for one week. He’d spend the entire day fighting with himself and battling that tidal wave with no distractions if he didn’t go to work, so looking at it that way, he really had no choice.
Dragging his weary body over to the dresser, he grabbed a fresh set of borrowed work clothes and pulled them on. As he buttoned and zipped the jeans, a small smile fought its way to the surface. At least he’d managed to get in Russ’s pants… in a manner of speaking.
At Marina’s stall, Jordan saw that the mare seemed to be resting comfortably for the night. He checked her over as best he could with a flashlight, but couldn’t detect any problems with his admittedly limited experience. Not wanting to disturb her, he moved back up the aisle and rubbed the neck of any curious head that poked out.
The short trek out to the barn reminded him of how tired he really was, so after snagging some leftover chicken and rice and beans from the kitchen and downing another glass of water, he returned to his room. Thankfully, sleep came quickly again, and he didn’t wake up until he heard his door creak just before dawn.
Blinking blearily at the paneled white wood in the semidarkness, he was confused for a second, since it remained closed, but eventually he just shrugged and rolled out of bed to get ready for the day.
After his shower, he spent several long minutes in front of the mirror again, inspecting himself. He still didn’t exactly look his best, but after a shave and using the last of a very fancy bottle of face cream he probably couldn’t afford to replace, he doubted he’d scare the kiddies.
He didn’t feel up to putting on the charm today. He really didn’t. He felt useless and weak and just a little broken, but the show must go on. He was still a Thorndike, after all, even if his father didn’t want him to be. Thorndikes weren’t quitters, whatever else they might be.
Breakfast was as bad as he’d thought it would be. Everyone hovered over him, making sure he ate until he felt like he was going to throw up. He kept his smile firmly in place and thanked them politely for all their concern. With effort, he managed to wipe the worry from their faces and get them all laughing and kidding around again. Russ didn’t count. He never stopped frowning, so Jordan couldn’t quite make out whether that was concern or disapproval, and he didn’t want to know the answer anyway.
As promised, he waded into the fray of excited, horse-crazy little girls right alongside Phyllis. He charmed and flattered. He was funny and upbeat. His mask didn’t even slip when Russ’s ex, Todd, showed up as one of the troop’s chaperones for the day and eyed him like a Christmas present come early.
Despite being creeped out again that the guy was cruising when his daughters were barely ten feet away currycombing a sweet little donkey named Jasmine, Jordan had to admit to a certain amount of morbid curiosity as he studied the man out of the corner of his eye. At about five foot ten, with artfully layered short light-brown hair, Todd wasn’t a bad-looking guy, but he wasn’t underwear-ad material either. Judging by the general age of his kids, and that Russ didn’t seem the type to go on the down-low with a married man, their relationship had probably ended close to a decade ago. Maybe Todd had let himself go a little in the interim, and he’d been a real stunner ten years ago.
As he was now, Todd might’ve been fine for a hookup, but Phyllis had made it sound like he and Russ were in an actual relationship. Jordan just didn’t get it. What did Todd have that he didn’t?
Maybe the guy had a monster cock hiding in those jeans?
And why the hell couldn’t Jordan just let it go?
Russ was super hot, but he wasn’t the only dick on the planet. Jordan didn’t know how long he’d even be on the ranch, so who gave a shit if one stupid, hot asshole of a cowboy rejected him anyway?
God, he was so fucked-up right now.
BY TWO that afternoon, Jordan’s mask was wearing very thin. The girls in the troop were starting to get a little tired and whiny, and the stress of the last few days was catching up to him. After the troop finished lunch and while they were busy with some craft project they intended to sell to raise money for the ranch, Jordan made a quick run up to his room and dug out his bottle of bourbon in desperation. He wasn’t going to get drunk. In fact, he’d barely had any of it since coming to the ranch, but today, just this once, he needed something to soften the edges and loosen his limbs. The girls’ shrill little giggles and whines were like ice picks in his skull, and the last thing he wanted was to lose his temper with any of them, for Phyllis’s sake, if nothing else. He needed the world to be a little hazy around the edges.
After a couple of quick swigs from the bottle, he put it back in the closet, brushed his teeth, grabbed a water bottle, and headed right back out. Some of the girls were decorating old, worn horseshoes, while others made leather and bead bracelets. Jordan helped where he could, but crafting wasn’t exactly his strong suit. Eventually, Phyllis took pity on him and sent him off to the barn.
“We’ll be done here soon. Go check on Marina and then see if Russ needs you for anything. I’m sure you’d much rather be doing that anyway.”
Jordan’s smile of relief was the first real one he’d had all day. He gave a startled Phyllis a quick squeeze before heading for the barn at a jog. The bourbon had been just
enough to loosen him up a little, and after being set free from babysitting duty, he practically danced his way down to see Marina. Despite the sadness of what happened with her foal, the mare seemed better even after less than a day, and Jordan had to admit it had been the best thing for her.
He lingered in the barn rather than going in search of Russ. He was still a bit on the warm and fuzzy side and wasn’t sure seeking out that particular man was the best idea. He’d already embarrassed himself more than enough for one lifetime where Russ was concerned.
The barn was empty of humans, despite all the activity on the ranch. Most of the horses had been let out in the pasture or were moved to a pen or paddock to get a little sunshine and fresh air or get worked on by a volunteer. Deciding he’d put in more than enough work for one day, he stepped into the empty stall where they stacked extra straw and slumped onto a couple of bales to shut his eyes for a few minutes. He’d help clean up when everyone was gone, but a quick nap wasn’t too much to ask, was it?
“There you are.”
Jordan had just dozed off when the unfamiliar voice woke him. Blinking awake, he found Russ’s creepy ex, Todd, propped against the opening to the stall.
Clearing his throat, Jordan sat up and brushed his hair out of his face. “I’m sorry. Did you need something?”
A lazy smile played across Todd’s face. “I could use a sip of that water, if you don’t mind.”
He sauntered into the stall and plucked Jordan’s water bottle from the bale where Jordan had propped it. Standing close enough that his denim-clad knee brushed Jordan’s, Todd wrapped his lips around the bottle, tilted his head back, and took a long pull. His Adam’s apple bobbed, and a little water escaped to trickle down his chin to his neck as Jordan watched with mild curiosity and a sliver of interest.
The devil and angel on each of Jordan’s shoulders had a little debate as Todd stopped drinking and offered the bottle to Jordan with hot eyes, and Jordan drank what was left.
On the one hand, Todd was obviously a jerk. Being married with two kids wasn’t stopping him from cruising the local animal rescue for some tail on the side. On the other hand, Jordan was lonely and in need of a little boost to his ego, so what harm would a little flirting do?
The Second Time Around Page 9