by Witt, L. A.
“Jeremy, I’m serious.” I put a hand on his arm. “If you’d rather stay back here, I won’t say a word.”
“No, but all it takes is one tourist Instagramming a picture of you and Natalya, and I’d damn well better have an explanation for not being in the frame.” He touched my shoulder. “It’s okay. I’ve just never done this. But I’ll be fine.”
“Okay.” I smiled. “Thank you. I know this is kind of a pain in the ass.”
“I’m more worried about the pain in my legs later on.” He chuckled. “Scott might have something to say about that part.”
Our guide’s eyebrows flicked up, and his lips tightened just slightly, but he said nothing.
Jeremy ignored him and faced the horse. He watched some of the other people who were getting on other horses, and that must have been enough for him to figure out what to do. He put his foot in the stirrup, held on to the saddle horn and cantle, and hoisted himself up.
He shifted around as he got comfortable in the saddle. Despite his lack of experience, he seemed to be figuring it out. He hadn’t gone over the other side or accidentally kicked his horse into taking off, so he was further ahead of the game than he probably realized.
Behind him, three women from our group stared so hard, I was surprised they weren’t openly drooling.
Sorry, ladies. I smothered a laugh. He’s already got a boyfriend.
“You just hang tight right here,” the guide said. “And I’ll get your lady friends on their horses. Then we’ll head down to the beach.”
I was assigned to a slightly less sedate-looking chestnut mare. She munched lazily on a few crumbs of hay and didn’t seem bothered by much of anything except when our guide tugged those crumbs free to put the bit in her mouth. Something about her eyes, though, not to mention her comparatively leaner physique, suggested she could—and would—get up and go if she wanted to.
Perfect.
The saddle wasn’t my favorite thing in the world. I was used to dressage saddles, not one of these hard, clunky Western disasters.
Still, it would do, because I was on a horse. Soon we’d be on the beach. I’d been looking forward to this for a while now, and even the “meh” saddle wasn’t enough to temper my enthusiasm.
Natalya was given a tall chestnut gelding who, like my horse, looked like he had some get up and go. He was already chomping on his bit and fidgeting while she pulled herself up and eased herself down into the saddle. He danced around a bit—nothing dangerous, just like a kid who had the wiggles—and Natalya didn’t seem to mind. In fact, despite her lack of experience—and the horse’s refusal to stand still—she sat confidently and correctly. The balls of her feet rested in the stirrups. Her heels were down. Legs and back straight but not rigid.
Damn. A few lessons, and she could compete.
I imagined her dressed for competition and shivered so hard, my horse jumped. Jesus. I couldn’t decide if Natalya would be more breathtaking in Western or English attire. A black Stetson, a pair of chaps, a buttoned-up Western shirt, spurs . . . that would be hot. On the other hand, a black jacket, skintight breeches, knee high black boots . . . Oh fuck. English. Definitely English. Especially dressage. A tailored black shadbelly coat, a silk top hat, white breeches . . .
I shifted in the saddle to mask another shiver.
What would it take to convince her to give dressage a try?
“Everyone ready?” the guide asked, pulling me out of my fantasy. After we’d all nodded and murmured yes, he said, “We’re about five minutes from the beach. On the trail”—he gestured toward the trailhead—“we’ll be single file, so make sure you’re staying one horse-length behind the rider in front of you. On the beach, you can ride at your own speed, and we’ll be in a group instead of a line. You’re welcome to jog or trot if you’re comfortable, but please don’t get too far ahead of the group.”
Our guide led us out of the stable. We followed a narrow trail through the woods and down to the beach, and there we spread out. Natalya, Jeremy, and I stayed close together, chatting while our horses plodded up the beach.
For me, this was heaven. The horses strolled along, hooves landing dully on the packed, wet sand. Saddles creaked. Waves lapped at the shore. Gentle wind played with my hair. A few people chatted while the guide gave us some historical and geological facts about the area, and a few just enjoyed the ride and the scenery.
Walking got a little monotonous after a while, though. I turned to our guide. “You mind if we trot up ahead?”
The guide shrugged. “Just don’t go too fast, or you’ll get separated from the rest of us. Stay in sight.”
I nodded. To Natalya, I said, “You comfortable trotting?”
“Hell yeah!”
I turned to Jeremy, and he shot me a look that said hell no. But then he waved a hand toward the beach in front of us. “Go for it. I’ll catch up.”
Shrugging, I tapped my horse’s sides with my heels, and she broke into a choppy jog, which turned into an even choppier trot.
Natalya trotted up beside me, ponytail bouncing between her shoulders. “This beats walking.” Still bouncing in the saddle, she twisted around a bit, glancing back at our guide. When she faced me again, her lips had pulled into a mischievous grin. “But I kind of want to go faster.”
Adrenaline zipped through my veins. “Do you?”
“Uh-huh.”
I glanced back. The other horses were still happily plodding along, seemingly uninterested in catching up with us.
And ahead of us, there was the most deliciously tempting stretch of flat sand.
“You know, it’s pretty flat. Bet we could get to those rocks”—I gestured at a cluster a quarter mile or so ahead—“before everyone else.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Bet I can get there before you.”
“Oh really?”
Natalya tousled the chestnut’s mane. Then she shot me a wicked grin. “Wonder how fast these things can go.”
Heart fluttering, I returned the grin. “Only one way to find out.”
“Want to?”
I didn’t respond—I tapped my horse with my heels, stood up in the stirrups, and let her fly.
Natalya didn’t miss a beat. In seconds, her horse’s hoofbeats were catching up with mine. Seconds after that, her horse started inching past mine, and she laughed. “Too slow!”
I glanced over at her, ready to call her a cheater or talk some shit or something, but instead, I stared.
Despite years of experience, to the point it was second nature to be perfectly balanced in the saddle, I almost tumbled right off my galloping horse.
Wow. Just . . . wow. Natalya’s hair whipped behind her. She squinted into the wind, and that smile . . .
I faced forward and concentrated on not falling like an idiot. The wind blurred my vision, and we both laughed as our horses stayed neck and neck until we reached the rocks. We thundered past them—still on flat, even sand—and reined the horses to a trot, then a walk, then a halt.
“That was fun!” She was grinning like a kid and . . . and not. I’d seen that grin in my bed, in my office, in the shower at the gym. I struggled to catch my breath, and she wasn’t helping. Not when the brisk wind had messed up her hair and added an extra blush to her cheeks. Of course I was out of breath. When Natalya looked like that—windblown, laughing, completely at ease in the saddle—why wouldn’t I be?
I really, really hope she feels like a shower after this.
Jeremy trotted up to us, bouncing in the saddle because he didn’t quite know how to sit a choppy trot like that. As he reined the Paint to a halt, he shot me a playful glare. “You girls are in deep trouble when they catch up to us.” He pointed at our guide and fellow riders, who were still way down the beach.
Natalya snickered. “What are they going to do? Make us lead the horses back?”
I giggled.
Jeremy just rolled his eyes and laughed. “I’m starting to think I was assigned to keep you out of trouble, not to keep troub
le away from you.”
“Well, if you’re supposed to keep trouble away from me”—I gestured at Natalya—“you’re kinda falling down on the job.”
“Hey!” Natalya laughed as she tamed a few stray strands of hair.
“She’s got a point.” Jeremy chuckled, wagging a finger at Natalya. “I’m watching you, lady.”
“Yeah.” She patted her horse’s neck. “But can you catch me?”
“Not on horseback, no. On foot? That’s a different story.”
“Well. Okay.” She winked. “I won’t run off, then. Except maybe on foot.”
He laughed, but my chest tightened a bit. Was she flirting with him?
I quickly dismissed the thought. He was gay and very much spoken for, and just because they were trash-talking didn’t mean they were flirting. And even if they were, who cared? We weren’t exclusive. I didn’t want to be that serious with her. Did I?
No. Of course I didn’t. I shook myself.
Natalya laid her reins on the saddle behind the horn, took off her hat, and started gathering her hair back into a ponytail. That simple, innocent motion of lifting her arms pulled her T-shirt up just right to bare the narrowest strip of skin across her firm abs and tighten the fabric around her breasts, and I was staring again. As if being on a horse didn’t make her sexy enough.
I distantly heard our guide lecturing us about getting separated from the group, letting the horses run, and all the other shit we weren’t supposed to do. I even made a half-assed effort to look contrite, but that took work and most of my focus had zeroed in on the grinning windblown Russian still fixing her hair on the horse next to mine. Some of her dark-blonde hair refused to be tamed by her baseball cap and was twisting and curling beside her face, and the wind had brought a touch of color to her cheeks, and I . . .
I couldn’t stop staring at her. My heart was pounding fast and hard, and it had nothing to do with the adrenaline from tearing down the beach on a galloping horse. The rigid, take-no-shit stunt coordinator was long gone, replaced by the laid-back, laughing woman I hadn’t shared my bed with in far, far too many nights.
We need to do something about that. And soon.
There was always my office, right? We’d fooled around in there a few times. And we were no strangers to the gym showers.
But, damn it, I wanted her between the sheets. Wrapped up in my arms, smiling down at me like that while we took our sweet time and didn’t have to worry about being anywhere else.
Pity we couldn’t do that today. There wouldn’t be time. As it was, we’d no doubt be cutting it close enough that instead of going home first, we’d have to use the showers at work before we reported to the set.
And since we hadn’t slept all day like the rest of the cast and crew were probably doing, we’d be dead on our feet by dawn. Sex? Not a chance.
Sometime around sunrise, I’d definitely be cursing myself for wasting the opportunity to sleep. But right now, as I walked beside Natalya, both of us dusty and disheveled and grinning like dorks, all I could think was it was worth it.
I glanced at her. She glanced back. A couple of strands of dishwater-blonde hair had once again fallen out of her cap and ponytail and now tumbled across her dirt-smeared cheek.
Yeah. Definitely worth it.
The crazy thing was, we’d barely touched all day. It would probably be a while until we did. We’d ridden horses, we’d raced down the beach, and we’d laughed and talked and just been here, but . . . there’d been nothing sexual at all.
So why was I flying like I did when we were in bed?
Chapter 16
“Oh, I am going to feel that ride for a few days, aren’t?” Natalya groaned as she got out of her car.
“Yeah, me too.” I rested my foot on my bumper and stretched gingerly. Less than twenty-four hours had passed since I’d stepped off the horse, and I was paying for it. “How about you, Jeremy?”
He glared at me over his coffee cup.
Scott snickered. “You sure that’s from—”
“You’re not helping,” Jeremy muttered. They exchanged glances, then both chuckled as they sipped their coffee.
I laughed and rolled my eyes. It was another nice day, and since Scott was off today and Natalya and I didn’t have to be on set until later this afternoon, we’d all decided to take advantage of the weather. And, well, since three of us were a bit stiff from yesterday’s ride, a leisurely walk on the beach to loosen up those sore muscles seemed like the perfect idea.
Natalya leaned into her car, and I heard her say something in Russian. Then something metal clicked, and she stood. “Okay, Misha.”
Her black lab exploded out of the car. Mouth open, tongue hanging out, tail whipping against Natalya’s car and legs, he tugged at his leash and wiggled in every direction, as if he couldn’t possibly explore and absorb all these new surroundings.
She said his name again, followed by a terse Russian word, and he dropped onto his haunches. His tail still wagged, and he whined softly. He sat still, but . . . barely.
“Good.” She pulled a treat from her pocket and tossed it to him. He caught it in the air with a sharp snap, and crunched happily.
“Misha?” Scott asked. “Isn’t that a person’s name?”
She nodded. “I named him after my cousin.”
“Your cousin?” Jeremy laughed. “Does he know that?”
“He does. And he gets squirmy and excited just like this, so . . .” She shrugged. “He gets to share his name with my dog.”
The guys laughed.
“Seems fair,” Scott said.
At our feet, Misha shifted and squirmed, still whining.
“You ready?” Natalya asked.
He whined even louder.
“We should start walking.” She nodded toward the beach. “Or he’s going to go insane.”
“Well, then.” I took her free hand. “Let’s go.”
She gave him a quiet cue, and he was instantly on his feet, staying beside her but obviously so excited he could barely contain it. The four—well, five—of us walked from the parking lot to the beach and slowly made our way down to where the tide was lapping at the sand.
While we strolled along beside the surf, Jeremy and Scott hung back a little, giving us and themselves some privacy while keeping Jeremy close enough to fulfill his duties as my bodyguard.
Like most labs, Misha was fascinated by everything. He tugged at his line, eagerly sniffing every rock and footprint. Sand covered his nose and, somehow, his ears and head.
“Doesn’t he get lonely?” I asked. “With the hours you work?”
Natalya shook her head. “He stays at my neighbor’s house during the day, and her kids wear him out. And twice a week, I take him to a doggy day care.”
I raised my eyebrows. “A doggy day care?”
She nodded. “That way he can play with other dogs.”
“God, don’t tell Levi about that kind of thing. He’d probably quit Wolf’s Landing to open a kitty day care.”
Natalya laughed. “Wouldn’t cats hate that?”
“Probably. But he’d love having a million cats around. Though I think Carter would veto that.”
“I think Zelda would veto that,” Natalya muttered.
“True. She is pretty opinionated.”
“Aren’t most cats?”
“Well, some more than others. Especially Levi’s.”
She laughed. “They’re cute, though. Must be why they get away with it.”
“Just like Carter.”
She nodded. “Just like Carter.”
We kept walking for a minute or so, and then she spoke again. “Oh, good news.” She smiled. “It took some pushing, but the studio’s security company agreed to hire my brother.”
“That’s great!” What a relief—I’d been worried sick that I’d gotten her hopes up for nothing, but thank God, the company had come through. “When will he be here?”
“It’ll still take some time, but by Christmas, he thinks.
”
“That must be a huge relief.” If it is for me, I can’t imagine what it’s like for you.
She released a long breath. “It is.”
“I’m glad to hear it.”
We talked for a little while about her brother, his travel plans, and how she’d need to rearrange her place a bit to accommodate him. As conversations do, this one tapered off, and once again, we were walking in comfortable silence.
She whistled at Misha to get his attention. When he turned, she tossed him another treat, which he caught in the air with another loud snap of his jaws.
“I’m curious about something,” she said out of the blue.
“Hmm?”
“When we first started, you weren’t sure about me because I’m bi.” She glanced at me. “Did you date someone like me before?”
I’ve never met someone like you.
My mouth had suddenly gone dry, and my stomach twisted as I thought back to that unhappy set of memories. “I dated a bi woman once, yes.”
She turned to me as we continued down the beach. “What happened?”
I gazed out at the strip of sand in front of us. “Her name was Michelle.” I couldn’t believe how bitter that name still tasted after all this time. “She was one of the first women I dated after I came out. She was older. Had a good ten years on me.” I sighed. “But she’d also just come out of a nasty divorce, and I guess she just wanted someone who was as far from her ex-husband as possible. A younger lesbian instead of an older man.”
“What happened? When it ended, I mean?”
I drew my tongue across my lips, staring at the sand at my feet with unfocused eyes. “She started cheating on me with her boss. For like six months.”
“My God.” Natalya tensed.
“She didn’t think it even counted as cheating. Since she never thought we’d actually go anywhere, it didn’t matter.” I exhaled, and my lungs felt like lead as all the air slipped free. “So I was just there until something better came along.”
Natalya grimaced but said nothing.
“So,” I went on, barely projecting enough for my voice to carry over the ocean beside us, “I guess in that respect, I know what you mean about being used. People using you for some . . . purpose besides just being with them. And then moving on when that purpose is served.”