The Gift Horse

by Jami Davenport

  Seconds later, she turned around to face him. Carson’s guts did something strange and unwelcome at the sight of her distress. He wanted to wrap his arms around her and drive away her fears. He wanted to kiss her senseless, slay her dragons, and take her to bed. At that moment, he’d fight the devil himself to keep her safe.

  “What took you so long to open the door?”

  “I was asleep.” Her accusatory tone drove away his momentary lapse into dragon slayer.

  “In what country?”

  Carson frowned and fought his inclination to fire back a smart-assed retort. Sam was obviously agitated and goading her wouldn’t do either of them any good despite the momentary pleasure he’d derive from it. “Is something wrong?” Carson forced calmness into his voice.

  “No. Nothing. What gives you that idea?” Sam peeked out the side entry window down the driveway.

  “You.”

  “I’m fine.”

  Carson lounged against the kitchen doorjamb and crossed his arms over his chest. “Then to what do I owe the pleasure of this impromptu visit in the middle of the night?”

  “Uh...” Sam stared down at her toes. “I...uh...need a cup of sugar.”

  “A cup of sugar?” Carson repeated incredulously. “You’re baking at midnight?”

  “I always bake when I can’t sleep.”

  “And why can’t you sleep?”

  “I...” Sam sniffled. At least, he thought he heard a sniffle. But Sam? Sniffle? He found that hard to believe.

  “Sam, are you okay?”

  She sucked in a breath.

  “What is it?” Something warm and tender curled inside him. It was such a foreign feeling, yet it felt so right. He moved a step closer and reached for her. She hesitated, and then threw herself into his arms. Now she really was sobbing.

  Shit.

  Carson held her to him. His hands moved up and down her back. He buried his face in her hair, savoring the clean, outdoorsy smell of her. He was in deep, deep shit.

  “Sam, what’s wrong?” He whispered.

  She held tighter to him. His bare chest was wet from her tears. “Nothing.”

  “Liar.” He hooked a finger under her chin and gently tilted her face up to his. “I’ve never seen you like this. Not my strong, independent woman.”

  “Someone is in the barn.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Someone’s down there. I heard them; then I saw them.”

  Carson stared over her shoulder down the hill. “Could you tell who it was?”

  “No, I just saw a faint shadow.”

  “Man or woman?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  Carson wiped her tears away with his thumb and resisted the urge to get lost in her golden eyes. “I’ll go down and check it out.”

  “No! Not without me. I’m not staying here alone.” She clung to him, and she wasn’t a clinging type of woman.

  “Maybe it was a cat or an animal of some kind.”

  “Not a chance. Not unless the barn cat has grown to six-foot-two and walks around on his hind legs.”

  Chapter 22—Carson, the Dragon Slayer

  Sam stared up at Carson. She’d never seen him look so tender. Concern softened his usual hard, unyielding expression.

  She fell a little more in love with him at that moment.

  “I’ll drive down there and take a look around. You can wait in the truck with the doors locked.”

  “What if he’s dangerous?”

  “Are you worried about me?” His eyes glinted with amusement.

  “Well, you’re not exactly the type of guy my brothers would have backing them up in fight.”

  “You wound me deeply, and you underestimate me. Maybe I have a black belt in Karate.”

  “You do?”

  He laughed. “No, but I can hold my own. I’m not the wuss you think I am.”

  Carson took her arm and led her to the garage. He opened the passenger door. She settled into the soft leather seat of his new truck. He shrugged into the light jacket he grabbed on his way out, slid behind the wheel, and tossed his cell phone in her lap. “Just in case.”

  Sam clutched the cell phone as if her life depended on it. She glanced around the garage, empty except for the truck. “Where’s the Jaguar?”

  “I traded it and my SUV for the truck and horse trailer.”

  “Carson, you shouldn’t have done that. You loved that car.”

  He shrugged his shoulder. “No big deal. Buying the bordello on wheels was more important.” He started the truck and backed out of the garage. He kept his eyes straight ahead.

  He’d traded in his beloved car for a truck and horse trailer. She couldn’t believe it. A warm feeling spread through her, but she slapped it down. He didn’t make this sacrifice for her. He did it for appearances and for that horse. Biting her lip, Sam stared out the window. The fir trees lining the driveway loomed tall and ominous. They rounded a corner and the barn came into view. Carson pulled into the parking lot and switched off the truck. “What happened to the outside light?”

  “It needs to be replaced.”

  “And you forgot to have that done? Sam, you need to make lists.”

  “How can you be talking about lists at a time like this?” The man was obsessed. “What if this person is dangerous?”

  “It’s probably just Juan.”

  “I’m not sure. His truck isn’t around anywhere. He went home several hours ago. Why would he come back?”

  “To prove a point to you that there’s danger lurking about.”

  “I guess that’s possible.” Improbable, but probably not impossible.

  Carson raised one dark eyebrow. “Anything is possible with that kook.” He opened the truck door. “Wait here.”

  “Carson.” Sam touched his shoulder, and he met her gaze. “Be careful.”

  Carson swallowed. Something flickered in his eyes that stopped her heart for a beat. “I will.”

  He slid out of the car, and she locked the doors, feeling a bit like the very type of woman she often ridiculed. She wasn’t helpless; she was just smart.

  Smart? She’d have been better off facing her unknown stalker than showing up on Carson’s doorstep after midnight. The stalker might steal her things, but the pretty boy had stolen her heart.

  She held her breath as Carson walked down the dimly lit barn aisle and disappeared out of sight. Tapping her fingers on the dash, she scanned the barn aisle for him, while dread slid through her body. “Car, oh Car, please be okay. I’ll never call you pretty boy again.” She rolled the window down a crack and listened. Frogs croaked in a nearby pond. The earlier breeze had died down. Sam gnawed on a fingernail. She strained for a glimpse of Carson. Where the heck had he disappeared? How long should she wait? If he didn’t show up, should she look for him or call 911? Five minutes passed. Sam put her hand on the door handle and braced herself for the worst.

  The worst never came.

  Carson strode from the arena and down the aisle. She let out a relieved breath and unlocked the truck door for him. She’d never been so happy to see anyone in her life.

  He stuck his head in the door. “I don’t see signs of anyone or anything missing. Do you want me to check out your apartment?”

  “Yes. I’ll go with you.” Sam leapt out of the truck and plastered herself to his side. He looked down at her, an amused glint in his eyes.

  Her apartment didn’t look disturbed; well, at least not any more than normal.

  “Sam, though it’s difficult to make an accurate assessment, I don’t see anything other than your ordinary chaos.”

  “I don’t either. I guess I was just being stupid.”

  He smiled, a sweet, heart-warming smile. “You weren’t being stupid. You were being smart.”

  Sam shrugged. “It’s late. We both have to work in the morning. I’m sorry for bothering you.” She didn’t want him to go, but she didn’t dare ask him to stay.

  Carson moved closer in the cramped quar
ters of her small entryway. “Are you going to be able to sleep?”

  “Probably not,” she admitted honestly.

  He grinned. “Me neither.”

  “Nothing’s wrong. You said it yourself.”

  “I know I did, yet something just doesn’t feel right to me.”

  There were a lot of things that didn’t feel right to her, and one thing that felt too right. “I’ll be fine,” she lied.

  “I have a spare bedroom. Why don’t you stay in it tonight? I think we’d both sleep a little more easily.”

  Speak for yourself, buster.

  “Carson, I can’t put you out more than I already have. Besides, it’s not a good idea.” She made a move to open the door and give him a not-so-subtle hint to hit the road—rather than the mattress.

  “Sam?” Carson moved closer. Sam looked up at him.

  She knew.

  He knew.

  They weren’t that tired.

  There was nothing either of them could do or would do to stop what was going to happen.

  Hands on her shoulders, he pulled her closer. She wrapped her arms around his neck, and let the devil carry her away to a place where sense and reason didn’t count. Carson bent his head. He brushed his lips across hers. She shivered and pressed closer to him.

  “Carson...”

  “Shhhh. Don’t talk. The time for talking is over.”

  Boy, didn’t she know that.

  His jacket dropped to the floor. She placed her hands on the bottom of his shirt and pulled it over his head with his utmost cooperation. He stood quietly. His hands dropped to his sides. He didn’t move one gorgeous muscle. She took a moment to appreciate the strong planes and lines of his bare chest.

  Sam ran her fingers over his chest, down across his flat stomach, and rested them on the buttons of his Levi’s. She looked up. He met her eyes and nodded.

  “Don’t stop on my account.”

  “Are you sure this is what you want? I don’t want to force you.”

  Carson grinned. “Oh, baby, force me. Force me, please.”

  “This is a very bad idea.”

  “I know, but I’d rather regret what we did in the morning than regret not doing anything tonight.” He nuzzled her hair. “I don’t understand it, but for some strange reason I’m attracted to you.”

  “It’s the age-old opposites attract thing. You’ll come to your senses.”

  “Not tonight,” Carson vowed.

  Sam could have guessed that one. Tomorrow he’d be tight-assed Carson. He’d apologize and forget about it like a typical man. She’d live with the memories of this one night with him for the rest of her life. Or would it be one night? Would it be a series of one nights, doomed to eventual extinction by their differences? They’d sneak around so that his family wouldn’t find out about his illicit affair with the hired help.

  Would all that grief be worth a night of wild passion with this man?

  Damn right, it would.

  Buried deep under all that stiffness was a man with a wild side. She was certain of it, and she wanted to break that barrier despite the harm to herself.

  “Sam.” His voice was husky with need, as he leaned into her, placed his hands on her butt, and pulled her closer.

  She tilted her head upward and parted her lips in a blatant invitation. His mouth came closer, closer, closer.

  Then...

  Bang!

  They jumped apart and whirled around as one unit to face their potential attacker. Juan stood sheepishly near the open front door.

  “What the hell?”

  “I heard noise. Was checking to make sure Sam was okay.”

  “By leaning against the door and listening?” Carson growled.

  Juan shrugged. “You okay? I was coming back to check on horses and saw a car leave the barn area with its lights out.”

  “What kind of car?” Sam demanded to know.

  Juan shrugged. “Too dark to see.”

  “You couldn’t tell a thing?”

  “No.”

  “Damn. Some private detective you are.”

  “So there was someone here?” Carson pulled his t-shirt on over his head. “Why were you coming back in the middle of the night?” He eyed Juan with suspicion.

  “I have good ‘tuition. Is person trying to scare you. I tell you, you are in danger. sí?”

  Carson frowned, his expression a combination of skepticism and concern. “Sam, you can’t stay alone. Maybe we should call the police.”

  “And tell them what? That I think I heard something? That nothing is missing? That Juan here believes I’m in danger? They’ll blow it off as nothing.” And that she’d gotten a threatening phone call over a month ago. No, she couldn’t tell them all that.

  “You’re not staying here alone tonight.”

  “I’m not staying with you.” The spell had been broken, and her smart-girl brain had asserted itself.

  “You would have five minutes ago. What’s changed?”

  “I regained my senses, that’s what.”

  Juan watched them with interest, his pseudo-detective’s mind collecting and cataloging every bit of evidence.

  “We stand guard. I not mind. I sleep in empty stall. You do same?” He addressed that last question to Carson.

  Juan really wouldn’t mind. In fact, it would make his day to be able to do real crime prevention. She couldn’t see Carson sleeping anywhere but her bed. Actually, considering the current state of her bedroom, she couldn’t actually see him in her bed either.

  Carson’s eyes grew large. “Me? In a stall?”

  Sam almost grinned. “Good night, Carson. I’ll lock my door. Juan will be sleeping in the barn. I’ll be fine.”

  “We come up with secret signals if danger comes.”

  “Great.” Carson rolled his eyes.

  Sam attempted to shut the door. Carson tried to block her. “Are you sure?”

  Sam nodded.

  Carson glanced over his shoulder at Juan who waited patiently. Juan didn’t move.

  Carson glared.

  Sam chewed on a fingernail.

  Juan still didn’t move.

  Carson sighed. “Well, then. I guess I’ll make myself comfortable—in a stall.” He started down the apartment steps.

  “Oh, Carson.” Sam called after him.

  Carson whipped around, obviously hoping for a change of heart. She tossed his jacket at him. He snagged it and continued down the stairs. Juan followed on his heels, eager to plan their next move.

  Sam shut the door and broke into laughter, a welcome release from the night’s stress.

  * * * *

  It’d been years since Carson had slept on anything but the best of beds. An empty horse stall with rubber mats and bedded with horse blankets was not his idea of comfort, not even minimalist comfort. Sitting up, he spat straw out of his mouth and stretched his stiff muscles.

  Juan sat in one corner of the stall on his haunches and watched him with interest. Carson ignored him and rose to his feet. He folded the clean blanket he’d absconded from the tack room last night in a neat square.

  Juan chewed on a pencil then wrote something down in his ever-present notebook. He must have seen Sherlock Holmes carry a similar one.

  If it hadn’t been for Juan interrupting last night, who knows what would have happened between Sam and him. He had Juan to blame or thank for that. He had Sam to blame for him sleeping in this stall, while she slept in her warm, comfortable bed.

  Carson sighed, a deep, long-suffering sigh.

  The things a guy would do for love.

  A chill colder than the depths of an iceberg scissored through his heart. No, not that. Not now, not ever again.

  Love? Where did that random thought come from? He really didn’t get enough sleep last night if he was thinking about the “L” word, the worst 4-letter word in the English language, and his old nemesis.

  Love had never caused him anything but pain. He didn’t need it, didn’t want it.

>   He wasn’t capable of it. Marcia had seen to that.

  Chapter 23—Bouncing Checks and a Loose Stallion

  “Dad, what a surprise.” Carson rose from the small desk in his barn office as his father walked in the door.

  “Your horse trainer said I could find you in here.” The way his father said horse trainer didn’t sound favorable. “I do have to agree with your sister. The woman is a mess. She looks like the aftermath of a hurricane.”

  “She’s extremely talented.” Carson praised the powers that be that his father had never seen the inside of her apartment or witnessed her organizational abilities at a horse show.

  “Do you believe she’s up to the high standards we’ve set?”

  “What standards?” Carson felt an argument coming on.

  “The same standards we’ve held all of our employees to over the years, including you.”

  “Are you insinuating that my performance is substandard?”

  “I’m insinuating that you’re sleeping with the hired help.” Joe put his hands on the desk and leaned closer.

  “Who the hell told you that?” Carson steeled himself and resisted the urge to move back.

  “Your sister. Who else?” Joe pinned him with his intent gaze.

  “She doesn’t know shit.” Carson forced his best poker face.

  “I see no reason to use profanity. You seem to be a bit emotional about this. That’s not like you.” Joe stood up straight and crossed his arms over his chest.

  “I’m not emotional.” Carson reined in his agitation with great effort. “Sam is a friend, that’s all.”

  “Samantha and you? Friends?”

  Carson nodded.

  “You’re as different as chocolate and lettuce.”

  He didn’t need to ask which one of them was lettuce. Good ol’ boring, dependable Carson. “Didn’t you tell me to expand my horizons? To learn how to work with people that don’t think like I do?”

  “Well, yes, I did, but...”

  “Believe me. You can’t get any further apart in personality and priorities than Sam and I.”