Starting over would be so much easier if she was thin and attractive. There weren’t any fairy tales where the white knight whisked away the ugly duckling with fifty extra pounds. It was always the princess or the beauty. Where did that leave women like her?
She fell asleep, the sound of rhythmic breathing above her a comfort in the void.
* * * *
“There ain’t nothing to worry about,” said Wyatt. He led her across the large yard between buildings, gravel crunching under his boots. Trucks were parked along one side and a fleet of horse trailers were stored in the distance.
The morning air was fresh and smelled like sweet barley. Morning dew darkened the edges of her shoes. There wasn’t a lot of activity as the sun had just risen on the horizon, casting a warm glow on the property. She couldn’t remember waking up so early in a long time. Rachel trudged behind Wyatt, still groggy and wearing the same clothes as the day before. She hadn’t even asked about her suitcase, too dazed to think clearly.
Damien Holt’s name was spoken with a sort of reverence by the cowboys, but she could tell he wasn’t the most amiable boss. What if he decided to set her loose? She didn’t have a backup plan. She was going purely on faith.
“Cat got your tongue?” Wyatt turned and leaned his back against the wall when they reached the large manor. The door beside him appeared ominous, the oversized arch elaborately carved with rearing stallions. It would lead her to a fate she wasn’t certain of.
“A bit nervous, I suppose.”
He looked so handsome with the early morning light making the flecks of gold in his green eyes stand out. He must have showered before he woke her because his dark hair was damp and haphazardly brushed back off his face.
“He’ll be worried about your qualifications. Maybe that you’re a woman, too.”
Great. He continued to stare at her. She didn’t know where to stick her hands, so began to fiddle with a lock of her hair. Wyatt’s thumbs were locked in his front pockets, bringing his jeans down too low to be holy. If it weren’t for his white T-shirt, she imagined she’d be able to spy a dark trail of hair leading lower. Remembering everything that had taken place last night made her stomach cramp. Was he thinking about that right now? Why hadn’t he mentioned anything? It was as if nothing had happened. She was more confused than ever.
He pushed off from the wall, suddenly gaining a few inches when he stood up straight. Wyatt entered through the ornate doorway without knocking. She followed behind him.
“Is this his house?”
“Yes, ma’am. He lives on-site. The ranch has been in his family for generations.”
The wooden floors creaked as they walked. All the wood was stained a deep mahogany and the lighting was minimal in the hallway. The wainscoting covered half the walls and the upper section was painted a dark plum color. It was big and empty. Lonely.
Wyatt stopped in front of double doors with stained-glass inserts. She couldn’t see anything through them besides the cast of light from a lone lamp to the right of the room.
“Don’t look too happy. He’s not exactly playful.”
Are you kidding me? If he wanted solemn, she’d pass with flying colors. Rachel was used to putting on a poker face when she wasn’t sure what mood Jason was in one day to the next. If he was angry for something, he was likely to slap her if he thought she was mocking him with a smile. If he was happy, he’d cuss at her for appearing depressed and ruining his good mood. She was so tired of walking on eggshells, her nerves exposed and vulnerable. Miles from home, she was reliving the same scenario now.
He knocked on the door.
“Come in.” The voice that came from within had a deep baritone. She clenched her fists and followed behind Wyatt.
“Mornin’. This is Rachel Price. She’s applying for one of the handler positions.”
Damien wasn’t what she’d envisioned as she played this moment over and over in her head. She’d pictured a much older man with mostly gray hair and a weathered face. He’d be sitting at a fancy desk in a pin-stripe suit, possibly smoking a cigar. Her imagination was usually quite vivid, especially when playing out her X-rated fantasies.
This man, the owner of a billion-dollar equine empire, was very easy on the eyes. He had pitch-black hair and eyes as dark. Instead of a suit, he wore a navy T-shirt over a white long-sleeved shirt. He looked like he was one of the workers, not the owner. He had a strong jaw and narrowed eyes, no hint of expression.
“She qualified?”
“A regular handler. Ethan started showing her the ropes last night. If you give her the all clear, he’d like to take her on the roundup for those Arabians.”
Damien stared at her, first raking his eyes up and down her body as if judging every inch of flesh, her clothes, and maybe what was beneath. Then he focused on her face. He had the most intimidating gaze, the kind that made her want to jump hoops just to avoid it.
Wyatt continued. “I’m sure Bella would love another woman on staff.”
“Isabella,” Damien corrected, not at all impressed.
He threw up his hands and clapped them. “Right. Keep forgetting.”
Damien shifted in his leather seat, rolling a pen back and forth atop his massive oak desk. “Tell me, Ms. Price, do you think you can handle the job?”
“I love horses.”
You fucking idiot. Had she really just said that? She might as well turn around and start hitching a ride back to the city.
“That’s a good start,” he said, surprising her. “Wyatt, you said she arrived yesterday?”
“I know you don’t like to be disturbed after dinner hour. I thought it best to bed her for the night and introduce you at first light.”
Damien cocked a brow, looking to each of them with a suspicious glance. “You show her the private stable?”
“No, sir. She’s looking for work, is all.”
The owner nodded thoughtfully, now tapping the pen against his full lips. Her stomach cramped uncomfortably as her nerves took control.
“Three days. Report back then.”
She was rooted in place, unable to move or think with Damien continually assessing her. There was such a dominant aura surrounding him that she nearly forgot her name when in his presence. Wyatt grabbed her arm and started to lead her to the door as if a timer had been set to detonation.
She didn’t regain her composure until they were back in the crisp morning air. She sank against the brick wall and exhaled the breath she didn’t realize she held.
“Told you I’d get you the job,” said Wyatt.
“What do you mean? He didn’t say anything.”
“Of course he did, darlin’. Didn’t you hear him?”
He’d said something about three days. What did it signify? She shook her head, certain she’d missed the important parts.
“I have three days to prove you’re an asset to the ranch.”
“Or else I’ll be fired?”
“Well, we both will. Damien doesn’t give second chances. I gave my word you were a good fit, so he’ll hold me to it.”
Rachel didn’t like being responsible for someone else’s fate, especially when her so-called experience was all a ruse. Why would a complete stranger vouch for her? Did he feel guilty for using her last night?
All that mattered now was helping to fulfill Wyatt’s promise to Damien, but how when she truly wasn’t qualified? How hard can it be to shovel horseshit and hose down a horse? If Ethan was as accommodating today as yesterday, maybe she’d get through the training period in one piece.
“You really shouldn’t have done that. You don’t even know me.”
“I think I do,” he whispered. He reached out and braced an arm at the side of her head, leaning in to keep their conversation private. Since they’d come back out, the ranch was coming to life. She could feel the earth tremble from stampeding horses and heard truck engines and cowboys calling in the distance.
“I don’t want you to lose your job because of me.”
>
His nearness was distracting. Did he realize what an effect he had on the opposite sex? Even his smell, one unique to him, made her stomach flutter.
“Why would I? Ethan says you’re quite good at your job. But it’s cute that you’re worried about me.”
She couldn’t even unfasten a saddle, never mind carry one. Would both men be out of work if she failed miserably? Oh, what a tangled web I’ve weaved. “I may not be as qualified for the position as I thought. The ad was very unclear.” She desperately needed to squeeze in a liability clause before she got in too deep. The constant lying was making her nauseous.
“Then we’ll teach you everything you need to know.” His word seemed to hold secret meaning as if he’d meant it as a double entendre. At least she could hope.
Chapter Six
Ethan saddled his gelding in preparation for the roundup. Trevor and Jesse had just arrived to help.
“I hear we’re taking the new girl with us. I haven’t even seen her yet,” said Trevor. He braced a boot against the split-rail fence to secure his spurs.
Ethan knew what the other man implied. Most women came to the Iron Spur Ranch for one reason—to live out a sexual fantasy in their private stable. Trevor was one of the regular Doms, always eager for fresh meat.
“It ain’t what you’re thinking. Holt advertised for new handlers, and she’s qualified for the job.” After spending an intimate night alone with Rachel, he didn’t like the thought of the other cowboys sniffing around her. She was unlike the other women who passed through. There was an innocent air surrounding her, one full of life and possibilities. He certainly hadn’t had his fill.
Working day in, day out on the ranch slowly sucked the life out of him. Although he loved this line of work, there was an unspoken rift between Ethan and the other men. It forced him to stay secluded, to exist rather than enjoy each day.
“So you’ve seen her.”
Ethan bridled his horse, reaching up to adjust the reins. He didn’t want to be put on the hot seat, expected to give any juicy details about the new girl. It didn’t feel right to reveal she had a body to die for—tits to drown in and soft curves that could no doubt take a hard fucking. She was his type of woman, a real woman. They seemed a rarity these days, so many choosing to starve themselves until he couldn’t distinguish them from the young men working the stables.
“I have.” He tied a loose bandana around his neck in preparation for their trip. There hadn’t been any substantial rain in weeks, so the rough terrain between the ranch and the far grazing land would be dry and dusty. They’d have to transport two horses each, guiding them back so they could be shipped out before sundown. Of course, they’d first have the task of choosing, segregating, and then capturing each horse individually.
Jesse and Trevor shared a private look. They probably thought he was holding out, trying to keep news of the girl to himself. Essentially he was, but they’d use any opportunity to drive a wider wedge between them. At twenty-six, Ethan shouldn’t be dealing with such an uncertain future. In the snap of his fingers, Damien could let him go, saying Ethan created too much conflict on the ranch. And there was no going home. He was sure some of the other men had sent in complaints in hopes of getting him fired. Luckily, the owner had been sympathetic so far, leaving Ethan to deal with the other hired hands on his own.
“Where she at anyway?” asked Jesse. He tilted his Stetson to keep the early morning light out of his eyes. “It’s gonna be a scorcher. We should have set out already.”
When Wyatt came out of the barn, both men split up, tending to their horses. His best friend had the power to fire workers who didn’t pull their weight, cheated Mr. Holt, or created dissention amongst the ranchers. “What’s the rush, James?” asked Wyatt.
Jesse shrugged nonchalantly. “Just sayin’.” He earned his nickname for being a notorious brawler. He’d been kicked out of every bar in town more than once, earning him the reputation of an outlaw. Fortunately for him, just a mention of Holt’s name and even the local cops gave him leniency.
“Ethan, the boss man gave Rachel a probationary period. Make sure you show her the ropes today. I don’t want to hear about any problems when you get back.”
He saw Rachel peek out from the corner of the barn. Just seeing her made him smile involuntarily. The girl was adorable, making him feel like a young man in love, not a care in the world. The other men turned to follow his gaze. Once discovered, she stepped out into the daylight. Her hair was thick and lush, falling gracefully along her shoulders. She’d asked to use his comb in the morning, and he was tempted to brush out her hair himself.
Women were a rarity on the ranch, and no cowboys dared to look at the boss’s sister, Isabella. Jesse and Trevor stared as if they hadn’t seen a woman in ten years.
“I hear your interview went well,” he said.
She nodded, keeping close to Wyatt as if she sought protection, but from what? Did she think he’d allow one of the other cowboys to lay a finger on her?
“Remember, Damien wants the best for Mr. Carson,” Wyatt reminded him. He already knew there’d be hell to pay if he disappointed one of the boss’s best clients. Damien was inflexible and demanded the best of everything.
Wyatt ushered Rachel forward, whispered something in her ear, and then left the four of them alone in the paddock.
“Mornin’, ma’am,” said Trevor, sizing her up. He tilted his hat, a sly smirk on his face. “My name’s Trevor, and this here is Jesse.”
Ethan put himself between them before leading her back to the barn and the mare he’d prepared for her. He knew what they were made of, and they’d ruin a sweet thing like Rachel.
The mare was a mild-spirited horse, good for a woman with questionable experience in the saddle. He still wasn’t sure what her game was. Did Rachel have qualifications he just hadn’t picked up on yet, or was she completely clueless in regards to horsemanship? Ethan and Wyatt would be laughingstocks if Rachel was actually a greenhorn. They’d put in a good word for her, which affected their reputations as well as the ranch’s.
“If them cowboys give you a lick of trouble, you let me know,” he said once they were alone.
“Will I be alone with them?”
“No, I’ll be there, but we’ll be covering a lot of territory and people have been known to get lost. Especially tenderfoots.”
“Tenderfoots?”
“Usually city slickers trying to play cowboys and Indians. They come up for an adventure, telling us they know more than they do. Most of the time we have to take the bloodhounds out after dark to find them.” The Iron Spur Ranch’s main focus was horse breeding, but Damien had expanded into other areas over the years. The most successful involved tourism since they were so off the beaten path. Riding classes, trail rides, and horseback tours were growing in popularity. Not to mention Damien’s exclusive, private BDSM club on the property. Only a select few were privy to its existence. Personally, Ethan wasn’t interested. He’d been raised with old-fashioned values, and the thought of striking a woman for pleasure didn’t sit well with him.
“I see.” She watched him intently. He double-checked that her saddle was secure and girth strap pulled tight. It was almost as if she was witnessing such things for the first time, which would be impossible if she was all she claimed to be.
“Will you be able to keep up?”
“Of course.”
“You need any help mounting?”
She stared at him for a moment before turning to the horse. She grabbed the saddle horn, hooked the wrong shoe into the stirrup, and then lifted her weight off the ground. Rachel was trapped in suspended animation, her cheeks turning a pretty pink.
“You said you’re a pro rider, right?”
“I’m–I’m just not used to this horse. And it makes me nervous when you watch me.”
He raised his hands in surrender and slowly twirled around to give her his back. “Better?”
“Much.”
Ethan heard the sou
nd of leather creaking, struggling, and heavy breathing. When he finally turned around again, she was sitting proudly in the saddle.
“You look good up there,” he said. Only she was no pro rider. He hoped she was a quick learner for all their sakes.
He led the mare to the paddock gate and then went to collect his own horse. Jesse and Trevor were already in the saddle with all their gear in place. They both wore leather chaps, spurs, and multiple layers. Ethan wasn’t the only one who knew the elements they’d be facing.
Once he released the latch on the gate, it slowly swung open with a groan. Ethan led the way, turning around to ensure the other three were following—especially Ms. Price. Luckily for her, the mare knew enough to keep up to the other horses. Normally he’d protest about babysitting a greenhorn when he was on a tight deadline, but he liked having Rachel around. She offered a break in the clouds.
* * * *
Rachel was well and truly screwed. She wasn’t sure how long she could keep up her ruse. And how long would Ethan and Wyatt pretend nothing happened between them? The entire situation felt like a disaster just waiting to happen.
It had been her first time on a horse, and despite the rough mounting, she thought she did pretty good. The horse followed the others obediently. The gentle sway of its body was almost soothing after a while. She could see the appeal in horseback riding. Rachel absorbed the sights and sounds around her as they travelled away from the ranch. Small clusters of trees dotted acre upon acre of open fields. The farther they travelled, the more irregular the ground became, making maneuvering perilous at times. Outcroppings of rock, prickly briars, and unruly grasses left much to be desired.
The Private Stable [Iron Spur Ranch 1] (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour) Page 6