by Susan Fox
When Sally had made it three-quarters of the way through her giant burger, she shoved the plate aside. “That was delicious, but I can’t eat a bite more. Want to finish it?”
“You’re trying to fill me up so you’ll get all the brownies.” He slid the meat and tomato from her burger, but left the bun.
“You’re on to me.”
Ben teased and joked a lot. He pushed sometimes, but was willing to back off. He didn’t set traps with his words or his actions. She could actually relax with him.
She checked her beer bottle. It was still well more than half full. Yes, her relaxation had to do with Ben, not with getting drunk and silly.
Finished eating, he stacked the two dirty plates. From his tote bag, he pulled out a bakery box. The ketchup and other condiments went back in the bag.
She stood and held out her hand. “I’ll put that stuff in the fridge. Want some coffee?”
“Sounds good.”
She went in to turn on the coffeemaker and fetch the fruit salad and a couple of bowls. When she put the salad on the table, he said, “Nice. I love fruit. Thanks, Sally.”
“You’re welcome. I’ll get the coffee.” How about that? A man thanking her for something as simple as tossing three kinds of fruit into a salad, rather than expecting her to produce a fancy meal. Ben was about as different from Pete as she could imagine, she mused as she poured coffee into two mugs.
Except for the fact that, as with Pete in the beginning, she found him handsome and appealing. Magnetically appealing. Sexually appealing. Not that she’d ever let Ben know that, she thought as she sat down across from him. Sex did not have a place in her life.
Chocolate hadn’t had a place for a while either, but tonight it did. She happily took a brownie as well as a serving of fruit salad. She was so caught up in savoring the rich fudginess that she didn’t notice, until she finished, that Ben hadn’t taken the other treat. “No brownie? Did I succeed in filling you up?”
“I watch my carbs. Help yourself. Or save it to have with your lunch tomorrow.”
When she thought about protesting, he said, “Take it and say thank you.”
This was one battle she’d happily let him win. “Thank you, Ben.” She took the bakery box to the kitchen and put it in the fridge, then came back and lit citronella candles.
When she sat down again, she said, “We need to discuss ground rules.”
He rolled his eyes. “Thought you’d forgotten.”
“I was waiting until you were mellowed out on cholesterol and alcohol.” Actually, she almost had forgotten, she’d been so caught up in enjoying the company and food.
“Do I need to get a notebook and take notes?”
“Not unless you’ve been concussed so many times you have no memory.”
When he rolled his eyes, she said, “Okay, rule number one. Your health comes first. Don’t do anything that strains your shoulder. Take whatever time you need for physio appointments and exercise.”
“Agreed.”
That was easier than she’d expected. She opened her mouth to state rule two, but he spoke first. “My turn. My first rule is—”
“Wait a minute. You don’t get to make rules.”
“Sure I do,” he said easily. “It’s not a dictatorship. And my first rule is, your health’s important, too. Don’t lift anything too heavy; ask me for help. Don’t work too hard without taking a break.”
His rule surprised a smile out of her. “Today’s been my easiest day since Corrie left,” she admitted. “In fact it’s been the nicest day since—” She stopped herself, then finished, “In quite a while.” What she’d almost said was that it was the nicest day she’d had since the beginning of her marriage.
Now that was a disconcerting thought.
Her nicest day in quite a while? Damn, that sounded good to his ears. Ben wished he could give Sally a big hug, but was pretty sure that’d make her back off. So he settled for saying, “I’m glad. Now, what’s your second rule?”
“You’re not my employee. You don’t have to work regular hours. Chauncey’s Pride needs exercise and you need to keep training. Take off whenever you need to. Or want to, like to go into town or take a ride in the country.”
He gave her a slow smile. “Okay. On the condition that you agree to my rule two. You gotta take some time off, too.” It’d be pushing his luck to suggest she come into town for a drink and some dancing, so he said, “And come for a ride with me.”
“I can’t just take off and go riding.”
“Then I’ll pay you for a guided trail ride.”
“Ben! I won’t let you pay me.”
“Then agree with my rule two, or I won’t agree with yours.”
She shook her head, but her eyes danced. “You’re determined to get your own way, aren’t you?”
“Pretty much.” At least when it came to giving her brownies and getting her to take some R&R. He studied her face, wishing he could smooth that curl of red-gold hair off her cheek and caress her skin. “You done with the rules now?”
Her lips twisted like a grin was struggling to escape. “Rule three. Don’t eat chicken; don’t even talk about eating chicken. If you want fried chicken, go into town.”
He chuckled. “That one I can live with. That it?”
“For now.” She cocked a brow. “You?”
“Me, too.” He rose and stacked plates and bowls. Last night, he’d given her space and gone to do barn chores. Tonight, he cast out a feeler. “Want me to give you a hand with these?”
“No,” she said quickly, grabbing the stack. “Thanks. You can get started in the barn.”
Damn it, he wanted to know the truth, and to find some way of helping her. How could he convince her to trust him? Quietly, he asked, “What man scared you, Sally?”
“No one!” The dishes rattled in her grip. “I told you that.”
He rescued the dishes before she dropped them, and set them back on the table. “I don’t think you told me the truth. Either you think I’m a real jerk—”
“I don’t.”
“I figured, or you wouldn’t be here with me. So it seems you’re wary of men in general.”
She crossed her arms in front of her chest, so tightly that her fingers bit into her upper arms. “It’s sensible to be cautious.”
“Sure it is. But with you it’s more than that.” Studying her taut, closed face, her tightly wound arms, he sighed. No way was this woman ready to open up to him. “I get that you don’t want to talk about it. But I need to know if he’s still a threat.”
After a very long moment, she slowly shook her head.
“Okay. Good. If you ever want to talk about it, I’m here. And you need to know, I’m not like him. I will never hurt you.”
“All right.” She said the words, but without conviction, and her eyes were skeptical.
He had to be patient and show her he was a man she could trust. “I’ll be in the barn.”
As Ben turned and walked away, he pondered her behavior. One threatening incident wouldn’t have made her so mistrusting. Something really awful— like rape—might have. But Sally acted like a wounded creature who’d sustained long-term harm....
His long stride hitched. Not Pete. It couldn’t have been Pete, the man who was so madly in love with her.
Madly. Obsessively. Possessively.
Crap. Had it been Pete? If the man who’d swept her off her feet, romanced her, made her fall passionately in love had abused her over the course of their marriage ...
But no. How could that have happened? Sally had been strong, independent, feisty. She’d never have let a man do that to her.
He shook his head, realizing that he was oversimplifying. The whole spousal abuse thing sickened him and made no sense. Yet he’d seen enough articles, even heard one or two stories, to know that the dynamic was anything but simple. It was wrong to blame the victim for not escaping the situation. Often, the victim was no more capable of running away than was an abused horse co
nfined in a locked stall.
In the barn, he got to work cleaning the day’s tack. Likely, his imagination was acting up on him. There must be some other explanation for the dramatic change in Sally’s personality.
He heard her bring a couple of horses into the barn. She did that with boarded horses that required grooming and tacking up first thing in the morning.
She murmured to the horses as she settled them, and then she came to lean against the frame of the tack room door. “I checked on Sunshine Song. She’s restless, pacing. There’s wax on her teats. She may be going into labor. I’m going to bandage her tail and clean her.”
Ben gazed up at her from where he sat on a stool, cleaning a bridle. “Anything I can do?”
“She’ll probably foal with no problems, but I’ll keep an eye on her. With the outside light turned on low, I can see her out the office window and she’ll still have privacy.”
He had noticed the shabby old sofa in the barn office, set facing the window. “You’re going to stay up all night, waiting to see if she foals? Sometimes it can take a couple of days.”
“They usually foal at night, so it’ll likely be tonight or tomorrow night. I won’t worry as much during the day.”
“You plan to stay up for two nights? You do this whenever you have a pregnant mare?”
“There are only a couple each year. Ben, I don’t want anything happening to my mares or to their foals.”
“No, of course not. I’ll spell you off. We’ll take shifts.”
“I can’t let you—”
“Gaaah! Sometimes you piss me off, Sally.”
She flinched, tensing in the doorway as if she was ready to run.
He lowered his voice, but didn’t hide his annoyance. “Don’t look at me like I’m going to hit you. I would never do that, no matter how mad you make me.”
“I’m not trying to make you mad,” she said in a placating tone that grated on his nerves. He’d rather she stood up for herself than backed down.
“Could have fooled me,” he grumbled. “Anyhow, I’m not going to argue. We’ll take shifts so we’ll both be reasonably functional tomorrow. Otherwise you’ll be exhausted and I’ll have to do all the heavy lifting.” He raised his sling. “Which won’t be good for my shoulder.”
Her head tilted to one side as she thought about it. “Okay. You have a point. What is it, almost nine?” She checked her watch. “I’ll take the first four hours. I’ll do some work on the computer and keep an eye on Song. I’ll wake you at one and you can take the second shift.”
Yeah, like he trusted her to rouse him? “No, I’m wide awake.” Not because he wasn’t tired, more due to the pain in his shoulder. “I’ll take the first shift.” When she opened her mouth, he held up his hand. “Don’t even think of trying to argue.”
He stood. “Tack’s done. I’m gonna make a thermos of coffee and get my tablet.” And take a painkiller. “Then I’ll settle down in the office and do some e-mail, read, entertain myself. You go on up to the house and get some sleep. Keep your cell handy. I’ll call if Song goes into labor.”
“No, I’ll stay in the barn. If there’s a problem, things can happen fast. A couple years back, we had a red bag delivery.”
He’d heard the term before, but never seen one. “That’s where the placenta separates from the uterus, and it’s delivered first?”
“Yes. It can be fatal for the foal if you don’t cut the placenta and get the foal out immediately.”
“Sounds scary.”
“Terrifying. But I’d seen it once before, when I was a teen, so I knew what to do.”
“Okay, I hear you. Stay in the barn and I’ll wake you if anything changes with Song.”
She pressed her lips together and studied him solemnly.
“Sally, I won’t go to sleep. I promise. You can trust me.”
Chapter Seven
Trust Ben with her horses? They were the most important thing in the world to her.
But he loved horses too, and would never want to see one come to harm. “All right,” Sally said. “You go and get your stuff. Oh, I put a couple of eggs on your trailer steps—my ladies’ contribution to your breakfast.”
“Nice. Thank them for me, will you?”
After he left, she went out to ready Song for foaling and whisper reassuring words to her. Back in the barn, she checked on Campion. His hoof showed no sign of swelling or heat. “You’ll have a new shoe tomorrow, boy. I bet you’ll be glad to go out in the paddock with your friends.”
In the office, she checked e-mail. No new students or boarders, but she remembered the slip of paper Ben had given her. Though she was shy about calling a stranger, she forced herself to do it. Andrew’s voice immediately put her at ease. He sounded excited; after he had a quick conversation with his husband they agreed on Monday morning for the first lesson.
Sally was about to shut down the computer when another e-mail popped into her Inbox. It was an application for Corrie’s position, from a young man. She responded, saying that the job was no longer available. Then, with Corrie on her mind, she sent her a quick note.
Hi, Corrie. I hope everything is okay with you. The horses and I miss you. I think Sunshine Song is almost ready to foal. The vegetable garden is doing great and I love having fresh produce. So delicious. Thanks for planting the garden. I know it was a lot of work and I’m sorry you don’t get to reap the benefits.Take care, and let me know how you’re doing if you have a chance. Sally
Ben stepped into the room, his size and presence making the space feel crowded.
“Guess what?” she said. “Andrew and his husband are coming for a lesson on Monday.”
“Cool. Now turn off the computer and get some rest.”
Could she sleep on the sofa, with him so close by? She could go up to the apartment Corrie had used, but if anything went wrong with Song, every second could be crucial. Stalling, she said, “They’re software designers and work at home, so they have flexible schedules. I’m glad they can come Monday morning; it’s one of my slow times.”
“Good. Now curl up on the sofa. I’ll use the desk chair.”
The hard wooden chair with the straight back. It would kill his shoulder.
“The sofa’s too small for curling up.” She sat at one end, up against the armrest, and raised her booted feet to the battered coffee table. “You can sit on the other side.” She’d be happier if this were a four-seater rather than a two-seater. Not that she thought Ben was going to attack her in her sleep, but being close to him was unsettling.
He clicked off the office light. It was nine-thirty. The sun had only just set and there was still some light in the sky as well as that coming from the dim outside barn light.
Gazing out, Sally said, “Song is pacing.”
Ben sat down on the other side of the sofa and opened his thermos. “Coffee?” he offered.
“No, thanks.”
He poured himself a cup and she almost wished she’d said yes. The brew smelled stronger and richer than the economy brand she bought. Balancing his tablet on his lap, he manipulated the touch screen. He wasn’t a huge man—bronc riders usually weren’t—but all his lean, muscled masculinity seemed to take up a lot of space even though their bodies didn’t touch. Or maybe it was just that she was so aware of his physicality. Of his male strength—something that could be scary. Of his heat, and his scent like pine needles in summer—things that were scary in a different way, tugging at something inside her, urging her to move closer.
Instead, she turned her head away, closed her eyes, and tried to relax her neck muscles. She forced herself to take slow, deep breaths, but sleep was a long way off.
She was aware of Ben shifting position, reaching for his coffee. At first, each movement made her tense up, but gradually she got used to having him there. He was watching over Song, and it almost felt as if he was watching over her, too....
“Sally?” A quiet voice drew her out of wherever she’d been floating.
“
Hmm?” Her heavy eyelids didn’t want to open. Her cheek rested on soft fabric, with heat and hardness beneath it. A strange pillow, but surprisingly comfortable. Something stroked her right arm gently, up and down, and—
Her eyes flew open. Oh, Lord, she was cuddled up against Ben, her head on his good shoulder and his arm around her. She jerked away. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be. It was nice. But I think Song’s having contractions. She’s swishing her tail and nosing at her flank. She lay down then got up again.”
Sally jumped up and flew to the window. The horse sank to the ground and then rose restlessly. “I think you’re right.” She glanced at her watch. Eleven-thirty.
Ben joined her as the palomino went down again, on her side, and fluid gushed from her body. “Her water broke. It’s coming,” Sally breathed, starting to count time on her watch. An uncomplicated labor went amazingly fast; the foal could be born within five minutes. “Song’s pushing; I can see her muscles working.” She’d lost track of how many foals she’d seen born since the first when she was five years old, but each time filled her with wonder. Excitement, fear, hope.
Not long after, Ben said, “I see the membrane—and a foot!” His tone conveyed the same sense of wonder. When he stepped closer and grasped her hand, his touch felt surprisingly right and she didn’t move away.
Squinting in the dim light, she said, “Another foot. The front legs are coming out. We should see the head any second now.”
But nothing happened. The two forelegs remained extended from the horse’s body, but the head didn’t appear. Sally checked her watch. It was four minutes since the membrane had broken. “Come on, Song,” she muttered. “Come on, little baby, come out now. Please be okay.”
Sally slid her cell from her shirt pocket. “I wonder if we need to pull the foal out? Or reach in and turn the head?” She thumbed to the vet’s number at the top of her contact list. It had now been five minutes. She pressed the screen and listened to the phone ring. “Pick up, Max. Please.”
Only two rings, then the vet, Maxine Grey, said crisply, “Sally, what’s up?”