by Karis Walsh
Once both horses were clean and tacked, Cal jogged back to her bungalow and changed out of her work jeans and into riding clothes. She returned to the barn well before six and untied Roman. She wasn’t going to handicap Rachel with a bad horse, but she wanted her kiss enough to take advantage of a few extra minutes of warm-up time before Rachel arrived.
*
Rachel had to cut her run short in order to make it to Cal’s farm by six on Thursday morning. She felt more and more relaxed as she left the city and drove across the expansive prairies that were part of Joint Base Lewis-McChord. A few horse trailers were parked on the side of the road, and she could see the occasional horse and rider through the fog. There were miles of open space, dotted with scotch broom and sage and bordered by cool green forests. She rolled her shoulders back and let the last of her city-induced anxiety fade away. Once she had a horse, she’d get a permit to ride out here. Maybe bring the whole team, if she ever managed to earn back their friendship.
A long trail ride would be ideal, but a friendly game of polo came in a close second. On a normal day, Cal could easily outplay her, but Rachel had to win. She hoped her desperation would give her the edge she needed. Cal would just be playing around, but this little stick-and-ball match was more important than any game Rachel had played in college.
She parked her Dodge pickup near the Lanford barn and got out. The stables seemed deserted, but she could hear a flurry of barks coming from the barn. No dogs appeared, so they must be contained in there somehow. Rachel headed toward the sound and met a young man at the entrance. He was leading a glossy black mare. She was groomed and tacked to spotless perfection, and her mane and tail were braided to keep them from interfering with either the ball or the rider’s hands.
“You must be Rachel,” he said. “I’m Cal’s groom, Jack, and this is Raven. You’ll be riding her this morning.”
“Thanks, Jack,” Rachel said. She stepped up to the horse and double-checked the tightness of the saddle’s girth out of habit. She was about to mount, but Jack reached down and gave her a leg up onto the mare. From Rachel’s first ride at Nelson and Leah’s ranch, she had always taken care of her own horse. She cleaned her stalls, groomed and tacked her horses, even got on the animals by herself. She wondered if Jack was planning to walk beside the horse all morning and steer for her.
“Cal is already at the practice field,” he said. He gestured to his left. “There’s a path behind the barn. The field is behind those paddocks.”
“Got it. Thanks again,” she said as he walked back into the barn. Apparently, she was on her own from this point. She gave the mare a pat and walked around the huge barn. She was wearing the same clothes from yesterday’s rides, but even though she had changed into a clean polo shirt, her horse was much better dressed than she was. A black saddle—with the burnished look of much-used, well-cared-for leather—sat on top of a deep blue saddle pad with maroon trim. Matching maroon wraps protected the mare’s legs and her braided tail. Raven was delicate and fine boned, with small ears and wide, intelligent eyes. Rachel had to laugh. The damned horse made her feel like a dusty oaf by comparison.
Once she was past the barn, Rachel eased the mare into a trot on the grassy lane. She rode in a few circles when the path widened and then halted the mare and backed a few steps before asking for a canter. After her experiences with the unit’s horses, Raven was a dream to ride. Rachel had been slightly suspicious Cal might have given her a horse with good looks but a hard mouth or dead sides, but the mare proved to be even better than her beauty promised.
Rachel came to the last paddock and saw a group of mares and foals grazing. One of the babies took off in an awkward, leggy canter when she appeared, and Rachel stopped to watch the little one’s antics. Raven stood at attention with her ears pricked toward the frolicking colt, as still as a statue except for the gentle puff of her breath that moved Rachel’s legs against her sides.
“Hey, cowgirl.”
Rachel twisted in her saddle at the sound of Callan’s voice behind her. She was riding a tall, rangy bay with a white blaze and four white socks. Lots of chrome. The gelding was as neatly turned out as Raven, with the same color scheme and tidy braids. Cal looked even better than the horses. She was wearing a royal blue polo shirt with maroon sleeves and the PNW Polo logo emblazoned in gold letters on a diagonal maroon stripe across her chest. Her breeches and tall leather boots were competition quality. Rachel, in jeans and chaps, had dressed for an informal morning practice, not a high-goal tournament. Cal’s nickname for her only pointed out the difference between their appearances, but Rachel tried to shake off the implied insult as she followed Cal onto the field.
Cal casually tossed a small white ball in her left hand as they walked to the center of the field. “I wasn’t sure you’d show up,” she said. “You must really want me to win that kiss.”
“You can try,” Rachel said. The kiss was damned tempting, but Rachel had more important matters on her mind. Her team, her department, her city. She was fighting for a cause while Cal was simply playing a game. Rachel couldn’t help but win.
“Just a little stick-and-ball play,” Cal said. “Nothing fancy. Best of seven.”
Rachel nodded. Let Cal picture a leisurely canter up and down the field as they passed the ball—and flirtatious comments—easily between them. Meanwhile, Rachel would ride like a knight going into battle, armed with her pride and her—
Cal flicked the ball onto the ground. “Go,” she said without preamble as she and her horse surged forward. Cal struck the ball with her mallet and sent it sailing toward the goal line before Rachel realized the game had started without her. Shit. All images of her victorious crusade faded away as Rachel chased after Cal’s bay. She spurred her horse in a late attempt at pursuit, but Cal knocked the ball between her goalposts before Rachel got close enough to challenge her. She pulled Raven to a walk as Cal trotted back to center field, her mallet tapping the ball alongside her on the ground.
“Excellent job, cowgirl,” she said. “I’d love to recommend you for any of my opponents’ teams.”
Rachel ignored that comment and tightened her grip on the reins. This time, she kicked Raven into a canter before Cal finished saying go and swung her mallet as she approached the ball. Instead of trying to beat her to the shot, Cal crowded onto Rachel’s path and pulled her mount’s shoulders to the left so they bumped against Rachel’s horse. The collision blocked Rachel’s mallet between the two animals and nearly knocked her out of the saddle. She was forced to brace her rein hand on her horse’s neck while she scrambled to regain her balance after the aggressive hit. Her horse’s stride faltered, and Cal took advantage of it and turned the ball toward her own goal.
Cal whacked the ball between the uprights and brought it back to center. “I’ll give you a head start this time,” she said as she scooped the ball with her mallet and lobbed it in Rachel’s direction from several yards away. Rachel wanted to refuse any pity shots, but she decided to get at least one goal before she got too choosy. She spun her horse around and ran after the ball, connecting with her mallet two times as she carried the ball up the field. She heard Cal’s horse close behind her, but she had only one easy shot to make before she scored. She held Raven steady with her left hand on the reins as she leaned to the right and sliced through the air with her mallet. She anticipated the satisfying crack of contact with the ball, but at the last second Cal’s mallet hooked hers with a sharp tug and spoiled her shot. Rachel’s shoulder wrenched back at the impact, and she loosened her grip on the mallet so Cal didn’t pull her right off her horse. Cal twisted her own stick to disentangle it from Rachel’s as she cantered by, and Rachel had to take a few precious seconds to rewrap the mallet’s strap around her wrist. By that time, Cal had yet again taken the ball down the field to score.
Rachel jogged back to center, rolling her shoulder to relax the muscles after the jarring blow. Without jeopardizing their mounts’ safety, Cal had pushed the legal limits of both
her ride-off and her hook. Any umpire would have given her at least a warning by now. Cal’s suggestion that they get together for a casual one-on-one session hadn’t hinted at this kind of rough play. “Stick-and-ball, my ass,” she muttered as they met midfield.
“It’d be my pleasure,” Cal said with a wicked grin. “Maybe after I make this match point. Go!”
Rachel didn’t have time to wonder whether Cal was flirting with her or wanted to throw her off balance mentally as well as physically. She sent her horse into a gallop only a moment behind Cal. Rachel had expected Cal to play a clean game of polo, but so far she seemed as intent on unseating Rachel as scoring goals. She decided she could either complain or fight back, so rather than try for a shot at the ball, Rachel played defensively and used her horse’s weight to shove Cal to one side. Cal tried to turn back in the opposite direction, but Rachel pivoted a hoofbeat more quickly and again forced Cal away from the ball.
After that, play deteriorated into a series of skirmishes as the two women swarmed around and over the ball, making less contact with it than with each other. Rachel’s earlier timidity disappeared, and she wanted to cheer when her elbow connected with Cal’s rib cage hard enough to make her grunt. The move would have drawn a foul in regulation play, but this match had its own rules—or lack of them. Cal had Rachel beat in physical strength and experience, since she’d probably played polo every day since she learned to walk, but Rachel used her horse’s speed and agility to counteract Cal’s advantage. The evenly matched battles continued as they wove up and down the field.
The intense play stopped briefly when Rachel brought her horse to a halt after a fierce collision that left Cal draped against her side, one hand on the cantle of Rachel’s saddle where it barely brushed against her ass. In such close contact, Rachel could smell the muskiness of their combined sweat and see the challenge in Cal’s eyes. Rachel had come here to battle Cal and overcome her reluctance to help, but now she had a new opponent. Her own libido. Her attraction to Cal was distracting in a normal situation, but here on the field it grew in direct proportion to the aggressiveness of their play. She had come with such high ideals, prepared to win for her city and community, but now all she wanted to do was pull Cal even tighter against her and fuck her right here on the open polo field.
“Do you mind sitting in your own saddle?” Rachel asked as she shoved Cal away, refusing to linger much longer with Cal’s amused smile only inches from her own lips. She hoped Cal would attribute her breathlessness to physical exhaustion, not arousal. She was irritated with herself for succumbing to Cal’s gorgeous looks and demonic play, like every female on the West Coast had done before her. Her only hope of escaping with some dignity was to hide her attraction from Cal.
Cal lifted her hand and wiped at a bead of perspiration that slid down Rachel’s cheek. “But I’d rather ride with you.”
Cal smiled as Rachel shook her head and wheeled away from her attempts at distraction. At least, Cal had intended to distract Rachel. Instead, she seemed to be driving herself mad with an attraction so strong she was unprepared to manage it. She had nearly been in Rachel’s lap, and she had wanted nothing more than to stay there. Rachel had smelled so fucking good. Sweat and cedar and—Cal wasn’t sure if she had been imagining this scent or not—arousal. Cal had used polo to seduce before, but she had always been in control, always been the seducer. Some of Rachel’s natural intensity was rubbing off on her as their play grew more physical. Cal gave chase after a brief hesitation, but Rachel beat her to the ball and carried it down the field for a score.
“You didn’t even try,” Rachel said when she brought the ball back to midfield.
“I thought I’d give you a chance to catch up,” Cal said with a shrug. She had tried, but she’d been too busy imagining what Rachel would look like naked based on the information she’d gathered from her hasty touches while they’d been pressed together. “Seemed the sporting thing to do.”
“Well, don’t,” Rachel said. She sent the ball flying and set off after it. Cal galloped toward her at an angle, prepared to ride across her line and cut her off. Not exactly legal, but if Rachel wanted a real battle, she’d give her one. Unfortunately, Rachel seemed prepared for her move and she swung Raven onto her path. The impact with Rachel’s shoulder jarred Cal in the saddle, nearly knocking the wind right out of her. She recovered quickly, shoving her feet back into her stirrups and giving chase.
Cal asked Roman to open up and gallop full speed toward Rachel. The move had been a good one, and Cal felt strangely proud of Rachel’s tactic. Cal was fighting with every trick she had at her disposal, but she was even more satisfied when Rachel bested her than when she got the upper hand. Maybe Cal was ready for a change. Her female companions were always so shallow—or at least Cal hadn’t taken the time to explore their depths—but Rachel was something else. Fiery and strong and deep. So intense when she talked about the mounted unit or when she played polo. So intense when she stared right into Cal’s eyes, her breasts rising and falling from exertion, and licked her lips in such a hungry way. Cal had been turned on by Rachel’s appearance, but now she was aroused by her passion. An affair with Rachel would be consuming and a little frightening, but Cal never shied away from a challenge. She’d do whatever it took to wear Rachel down.
Rachel sensed Cal and her horse bearing down on her as she neared her goal. She raised her arm in preparation for a full swing, but at the last moment she contracted her biceps and turned the mallet so she merely tapped the ball to the right. Cal, obviously anticipating the trajectory of the ball after a hard hit, swept several strides down the field before she could turn back. Rachel pivoted and batted the ball toward her goal. Again she could hear Cal close on her heels, and she leaned low over Raven’s neck as she urged her on. She extended her arm up and around in a strong swing, expecting to feel the hook of Cal’s mallet at any moment, but instead she connected solidly with the ball and sent it straight and true through her goalposts.
“Well played,” Cal said as she pulled up next to Rachel, her face red from exertion. Rachel searched for a hint of sarcasm in her voice but didn’t hear one.
Cal glanced at her watch. Her mother would be out soon to watch Cal school her two young horses. She’d much rather continue playing with Rachel, maybe spend some more time in her lap, but she needed to finish the game. She closed her mind to everything but polo. There’d be plenty of time to fantasize about Rachel after she had finished her schooling for the day. With her focus intact, she made short work of her fourth and final goal.
“Four to two,” she said. “I have a few more horses to school, so go cool off Raven and I’ll see you at the police stables on Monday. I’ll let you know when I’m ready to collect my kiss.”
Rachel came to a halt, her breath rasping, as her body, unaccustomed to casual riding let alone this grueling kind of match, struggled to recover. She frowned in confusion as Cal rode off the field. She had lost, so why was Cal coming to the stables? “Wait,” she called. Cal halted and looked over her shoulder. “Does this mean you’re going to help us?”
Cal laughed. “Of course I am, cowgirl,” she said. “This game was just for fun.”
*
Rachel waved when she saw Nelson’s blue Ford pickup drive through the park’s entrance. She hurried to push open the gate leading to the stable yard, wincing as her muscles protested her quick movements. She still hurt from her grueling match with Cal two days earlier and from the unaccustomed exercise of riding three horses a day. Hours in the saddle would eventually get her riding muscles back in shape, and until then she had to suffer through with the help of aspirin and beer. Another benefit of living in the fancy waterfront condos—she would have had access to a hot tub to soothe her whimpering body. Soaking in the tiny tub in her apartment, with her feet dangling over the edge, was a poor substitute.
She slid the chain-link fence shut after her dad drove the trailer into the yard. She locked the gate and gave a sharp gasp as the metal
lock rubbed over her palm. Where she’d once had small calluses like Cal’s to protect her hand from her mallet, she now had a row of tiny but ferocious blisters. Yet another souvenir from her time at the Lanford farm. As if the near-constant state of arousal she had felt after their very physical polo game wasn’t enough, Rachel’s hand and thighs throbbed with pain every time she moved or touched anything. Her body seemed determined to remind her of Cal at every turn.
She heard the bang of a horse hoof striking the side of the steel stock trailer. Dark brown ears were visible above the solid metal panel. Her horse had arrived—her new partner, as much as any human could be. Someday their lives might depend on the bond they’d form together. She watched Nelson hop out of the truck’s cab and walk toward her, feeling somehow connected to all the comforts of home when she saw him in his usual worn jeans, old flannel shirt, and dusty cowboy hat. He grabbed her in a hug and spun her around before setting her back on her feet.
“Hi, Dad,” she said, feeling the familiar tickle of his long moustache when he gave her a kiss on the cheek.
“It’s good to see you, Rachel,” he said before patting her on the back and letting her go. He looked her up and down as if he were evaluating a horse. “You’ve lost weight. And you have dark circles under your eyes. Aren’t you sleeping?”
Rachel tried to shrug off his concern with a joke. “Some. I guess I’m just worn out from riding so much. I feel as out of shape as a tenderfoot at a dude ranch.”
“Well, Leah figured you’d be too skinny, so she sent a cooler full of food for you.”