Unbridled (Unlikely Lovers)

by Brooks, Cheryl

  “Sad story?”

  “Sob story,” she replied with a giggle.

  Travis dropped the hoof he was working on and stood up. He had his hoof nippers in one hand, a rasp in the other, and his shoulders sagged beneath their weight. His eyes were dull and for once, he wasn’t smiling.

  Miranda frowned. He looked terrible—more sick than lovesick. “Are you sure you’re okay? You don’t look so good.” Comparatively speaking, of course. Even on his worst days he outshone most guys.

  “You see?” He waved his rasp for emphasis. “You believe I’m sick. Nigel believes I’m sick. Hell, Shelley’s a doctor, for Christ’s sake, and she didn’t believe a word I said. I canceled a date with her last night and she called me all day long. Six times. All I wanted to do was sleep and she kept calling me to see if I was well enough to take her out.”

  “Are you sure she wasn’t concerned about you?” Miranda asked, trying to put it in the best possible light. “Some people have odd ways of showing it.”

  He blew out a pent-up breath. “She might have been concerned the first time she called, but not the other times. She was sure I was with someone else and was checking up on me.”

  That didn’t sound very promising. “I hate to admit this, but given her history, I can sort of understand that. She’s been shit on for years and is probably expecting you to do the same. You know what they say, ‘Once burned, twice shy.’”

  “Yes, but I’m not her husband.” He paused, wiping his eyes on his coat sleeve. “I’m not like that. When I’m dating a woman, I don’t go out with anyone else.”

  “You know that, and I know that, but does she?” Miranda could see Shelley’s side of it quite easily, whether she liked the idea of anyone treating Travis as if he were a liar or not. “She doesn’t know you well enough to realize you’re trustworthy, and she’s been lied to for years. It’s got to be very hard for her.”

  “I wish I wasn’t her first boyfriend since the divorce,” he grumbled. “I do like her, but I can’t stand being constantly questioned. I’m willing to let her live her life and trust her—why can’t she do the same for me? She’s not the only one who’s been lied to. Women treat me like shit all the time, but I keep trying. I’m willing to trust people until they prove me wrong.”

  Lied to and treated like shit? Miranda found that hard to believe. If he’d been hers, she would’ve treated him much better than that. “It’s different with guys. You’re made of sterner stuff.”

  He barked out a mirthless laugh. “If I were that tough, I’d have gone out with her whether I was sick or not—and it would’ve served her right if she caught the flu from me.” He turned and started to pick up another hoof, but spun back toward her with a wave of the nippers. “And another thing. What’s she going to do when she realizes most of my clients are women? I won’t even be able to work without her questioning my every move.”

  Miranda shrugged. “I guess she’d dump you?” If Shelley hadn’t shot her philandering husband, she probably wouldn’t go after Travis with a forty-five, either, so getting dumped was the worst outcome Miranda could think of—not to mention the dumbest. Dump a guy like Travis? Never.

  “You know, it would almost be a blessing.” Shaking his head, he heaved a weary sigh. “I’m putting way too much energy into this.”

  “Need a lower maintenance woman?” Miranda knew precisely who she’d suggest, too.

  “Not really. Everyone has needs. I just wish she would trust me. I don’t think I can ever love her if it keeps on like this. I’ve never been so miserable with a woman in my life.”

  “Aw, poor Travis. Do you need a hug?” Miranda had been dying for an excuse to get her arms around him for ages. Now he was sick, sweaty, and upset because another woman didn’t trust him. Timing is everything.

  “Yes, I do.”

  His emphatic reply should have come as a warning, but when Miranda took a step toward him, he flung his arms around her, hoof nippers, rasp, and all. Even though it was rather painful, she considered it worthwhile—maybe even worth catching the flu. She hugged him and patted him on the back, doing her best to ignore the tingling sensations zipping through every erogenous zone she possessed.

  “I know Miss Right is out there somewhere,” he whispered. “I just have to keep looking.”

  He was so close, she could have kissed him right on that cute little hickey birthmark—or given him another one—and his warm breath on her neck sent a thrill racing down her spine. She breathed in his masculine scent and squeezed her eyes shut.

  Don’t do it, Miranda.

  It took a will of iron, but she let him go and backed away. “Sounds like you’ve already given up on this one.”

  He shrugged. “I think I may have.”

  “Well, good luck—and for goodness sake take care of yourself. I’m pretty sure you’ve got a fever.” Miranda was dying to take him home, give him a nice warm sponge bath, tuck him into her bed, and feed him hot tea and chicken soup until he recovered. And after that…well, that was something she didn’t dare think about.

  Shivering, he crossed his arms over his chest. “Yeah. I feel sort of hot and cold at the same time.”

  “Take some ibuprofen when you get home,” she advised, slipping into nurse mode. “That is, if you haven’t already.”

  “I’ll do that.” Shoulders still sagging, he went back to work.

  Steeling herself against urges she knew she’d regret if they were ever allowed free rein, Miranda focused her attention on Kira, vigorously brushing the mare’s thick winter coat and trying desperately to avoid staring at Travis.

  Travis picked up the bay’s hoof and checked the fit of the shoe. It was a tad narrow, so he set it on his anvil and hammered it a few times. Normally a terrific way of venting his frustrations, this time, it didn’t help at all. He still wasn’t sure what had just happened. He’d actually held Miranda in his arms—too bad he was sick as a dog and they’d both been wearing heavy coats.

  No, he decided, the coats were a good thing; otherwise she would’ve had bruises on her back. He could’ve at least put down his tools and hugged her properly.

  Of course, with his hands free, he might’ve done something he’d regret. Miranda was a kind, caring woman. She didn’t deserve to be groped by a guy with the flu who didn’t have sense enough to stay home in bed.

  A fleeting image of Miranda lying naked in that bed assailed him with the force of a horse’s kick. He swallowed painfully, but his cock hurt even more. How could a man possibly feel so bad and so horny at the same time?

  He finished nailing on the shoe and stood up, stretching his back. Miranda had already saddled her mare and had her spurs on.

  Damn. I missed it.

  Selecting another shoe from his toolbox, he put it on the anvil and gave it a few whacks with the hammer, keeping an eye on Miranda as she donned her gloves and helmet. He was trying to decide why watching a woman put things on, rather than taking them off was so overwhelmingly erotic when she looked up at him.

  Smiling, she tucked a lock of hair under her helmet. “Just think, Travis. Maybe tomorrow you’ll get a call from a nice single woman whose horse needs shoes, and you’ll fall in love and live happily ever after.”

  He shook his head. “I doubt it. Besides, I don’t date my clients.” On the other hand, if Miranda had been a client—and single—he might’ve made an exception to that rule. In fact, he was sure of it. He wondered if she liked younger men.

  “Then I guess you’re screwed.”

  Travis somehow managed a chuckle when all he really wanted to do was cry. “I guess I am.”

  * * * *

  Nigel was screeching at a young girl on a bay gelding when Miranda opened the gate to the arena. If his current mood was any indication, her own lesson wasn’t going to be pretty.

  “What is wrong with you?” he shouted. “Why do you keep doing that?”

  Miranda led Kira over to the mounting block and let down the stirrups, trying to see what had N
igel so incensed.

  “Stop that!” he yelled. “Can’t you hear me?”

  Miranda climbed aboard Kira as the girl rode past. She still had no idea what was driving Nigel so crazy, but the poor girl looked like she was about to lose it.

  Nigel let out a long, tortured scream and pulled his knit cap down over his eyes. “Stop!” he yelled. “That’s enough. Get off the horse.”

  The girl dropped her reins, sobbing.

  “You aren’t in any shape to ride,” Nigel said sharply. “When you feel like this, you should cancel your lesson and stay home.”

  It was good advice, of course, but Miranda understood why the girl was there. She didn’t cancel a lesson unless she was dying. She’d ridden with raging headaches, sinus infections, smashed fingers, and a knee that had to be taped up. No matter how bad she felt, the lesson was important. Canceling was simply not an option.

  Miranda began her warm-up, catching snatches of the conversation as she rode by. Apparently, the kid’s grandmother was dying, and Miranda would’ve bet money that by this time Nigel was feeling pretty damn small. Head hanging low, the girl left the arena in tears.

  Nigel sat huddled in the corner with his jacket pulled tightly around him and his hood up over his cap. He’d never truly acclimated to Indiana’s weather, and Miranda hated to think how he would fare in Minnesota. In his opinion, Pemberton, Indiana was too cold in winter and too hot and humid in summer. There was no pleasing the man, and today was no exception.

  Karen came out to exercise another of Nigel’s horses. After giving her a few brief instructions, he yelled, “Okay, Miranda! I’m ready to be impressed!”

  After that last lesson, it shouldn’t be too hard. Shortening her reins, she leaned back, driving Kira forward into the bit with her legs. The big mare dropped her head slightly and surged forward.

  “Good,” he called. “But rounder, deeper, more leg.”

  She squeezed harder with each stride, but it wasn’t enough.

  “Both legs, Miranda! Get her rounder.”

  Tightening her legs to the point of pain, she worked the bit back and forth in Kira’s mouth. Nothing happened.

  “More leg!” he yelled. “More leg!”

  There was a standing joke around the barn that no one would ever want to have sex with Nigel because he would be much too critical. Miranda could imagine him yelling, “More leg!” to his wife all the time. Small wonder she always seemed to be in a bad mood.

  Turning her toes out, she used a tiny bit of spur.

  “Yes, Miranda!” he exclaimed. “Good. Now keep her that way.”

  There’s always a catch…

  “Aaaahhhh… What happened? You had her and lost it. You’ve got to keep your aids coming. You go into neutral when you get her round and then you lose it.”

  If her concentration hadn’t already been broken, Miranda would’ve lost it then. Nigel’s screams nearly always made her crack up, and she found it impossible to concentrate on her riding while laughing her head off. At least he was in a better mood now. Undaunted, she tried it again.

  “Yes, Miranda!” he yelled ecstatically. “Yes, yes, yes!” As she and Kira cruised by in a perfect frame, Nigel shook his fists in the air and stomped his feet. “Don’t stop, Miranda! Keep on like that.” He heaved a satisfied sigh. “Oh, yeah…”

  Grinning broadly, she crossed the diagonal, still going strong, and thinking that sex with Nigel might not be so bad after all. If you ever did get it right, he would certainly let you know.

  Chapter 4

  After her lesson, Miranda let Kira walk for about fifteen minutes before heading back to the barn. Travis was still there, nailing shoes on a tall chestnut mare while Nigel furiously raked the barn aisle. Neither of them said a word while she unsaddled Kira and remained silent as she led the sweaty mare out to the wash stall for a quick sponge bath.

  The same stony silence prevailed upon her return, and though she suspected that Nigel was itching to discuss that morning’s events, so far, he wasn’t talking. Having mulled over the scene with his young student, Miranda had some definite ideas about what he might have done differently, but she wasn’t about to offer them unless he asked. Clipping the cross ties to Kira’s halter, she covered the mare with a light fleece blanket, packed up her gear, and carried it all out to the truck.

  Nigel rounded on her the moment she returned. “Could I have handled that better?”

  “Yes, you could,” she replied, pleased that he’d finally asked. “All you had to do was ask her why she was behaving so strangely—without screaming.”

  “She should have said something,” he grumbled. “If I’d known she was worried about her grandmother, I wouldn’t have yelled at her.”

  “She could have, but women usually don’t volunteer that kind of information. Men will tell you up front when they feel like shit. You have to ask a woman, and you have to ask her nicely.”

  He shook his head. “I don’t know if I can do that.”

  “It’s not that hard, Nigel. A simple Are you okay? will usually do it. Not, What the hell’s the matter with you?”

  “I guess so.” He blew out an exasperated breath. “It’s these silly young girls, Miranda. I don’t deal well with them.”

  “No shit,” she said dryly. “You see yourself as their instructor, but they see you as their ticket to equestrian stardom. You’re their hero, Nigel, and when your hero screams at you…well, let’s just say it’s not a good thing, especially for a young girl.”

  She glanced at Travis, who had stopped hammering and appeared to be listening.

  “Now, me, I mostly laugh when you yell. You’ve never made me cry and I doubt you ever will. I’m too old to compete in the Olympics, but the young ones still have the dream, and it means more to them. Some days they can take the yelling and screaming because they know you can teach them what they need to know, and some days they can’t. It’s up to you to know the difference.”

  He shook his head. “I can’t do that.”

  “Then you’ll have to stick to teaching older women and leave the young ones to someone else.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with older women,” Travis chimed in. “They give really good hugs.”

  Miranda chuckled. “Yeah, right, Travis. Those young ones would probably cry when you hit them with your nippers.”

  His jaw dropped. “I didn’t hit you, did I?”

  “No,” she admitted. “But you squeezed me pretty hard. I probably have nipper marks on my back.”

  “Let me see.” He put down his hammer and walked toward her, a funny little half-smile lifting the corner of his mouth. “Turn around.”

  “Oh, Travis, I was kidding and you know it.” Laughing, she held up both hands to fend him off. “I’m sure you didn’t leave a mark.”

  Nigel snickered. “Maybe he wants to kiss it and make it better.”

  The mere thought of Travis kissing her on the back—or anywhere else—sent a quiver of anticipation running down her spine. Too bad he hadn’t been the one to suggest it.

  Giving herself a mental shake, she nodded at Nigel. “That’s another thing men do. They always want to fix things. Sometimes a woman simply needs to talk about what’s bothering her and all the man has to do is listen. Most of the time, she already knows what she needs to do. She’s just reluctant to go through with it. Pointing out the obvious solution makes her seem stupid.”

  “Let me get this straight,” Nigel said. “I have to ask what’s wrong—nicely, of course—listen to the problem, and then not try to fix it? That doesn’t make sense.”

  “I never said it made sense,” she said patiently. “But if you’re dealing with women, it’s something you need to remember.”

  He shrugged and went back to raking. “If you say so.”

  Miranda rolled her eyes and went over to get Kira. She’d snapped a lead rope to the mare’s halter and was unhooking the cross-tie when she felt a hand pressed between her shoulder blades.

  “No nippe
r marks,” Travis said, giving her a gentle massage. He seemed perkier than he’d been earlier, his funny little smile now a full-blown grin. “I figured you secretly wanted to know that.”

  “Thanks, Travis.” Trying to ignore the flood of goose bumps racing over her skin, she resisted the urge to lean back against his hand. “I’m sure I would’ve lost sleep over it.”

  Laughing, he waved goodbye. “See you next week.”

  Although such a simple touch rarely affected her, she was still tingling as she loaded up her mare and went home. She probably would lose a little sleep that night, and it certainly wouldn’t be from a sore back. Travis had the power to keep her awake all by himself.

  * * * *

  Travis knew he’d set a dangerous precedent. One hug—hell, one touch—would lead to another and another and before he knew it, he’d be kissing her. Then she’d probably slap the shit out of him, and she’d be perfectly justified in doing so.

  He finished up at Nigel’s and headed on to the next horse on his list, stopping for lunch along the way. He gave the cashier at the drive-thru a big smile, wondering if she would condemn him for lusting after a married woman. His family certainly would. He’d never hear the end of it, and his father would probably disown him.

  His cousin might understand, though. There was something different about Alan John. A cousin on his mother’s side, the same taboos hadn’t been drummed into him from birth. To hear him tell it, Alan had yet to find a woman who could stand as much sex as he craved, and he’d supposedly worn out more women than most men ever dated. Somewhere along the line, he’d probably fucked a married woman. Or two, or three… He might even have lined them up and done one after the other.

  Travis didn’t have that problem. With fairly normal sexual appetites and an upbringing that kept him from being indiscriminate, having an adulterous affair was completely out of character for him. Why, then, did he want Miranda so badly?

  Miranda’s husband was the farthest thing from his mind when she’d made him an offer he couldn’t refuse. Then her comment about nipper marks had given him another excuse to get his hands on her. Too bad her reaction wasn’t all he’d hoped for. Instead of moaning with pleasure, she’d simply loaded up her horse and gone home.