by Renee Reeves
Jake swung a leg over the paint's neck, paused, grimacing as if in pain, and slid off the animals back. The expression on his face did nothing to bolster her failing courage.
"Are you okay?” she asked, frowning at him. “You look like you're in pain."
He nodded, “Still a little sore."
She raised an eyebrow in question and he replied, “I fractured a rib several weeks ago, got stuck between a pony and a hard place."
When she opened her mouth he interrupted her, saying, “I think Nick's in the barn working with one of the horses.” He fiddled with the reins, flicking them back and forth with his thumbs, and then reached up to stroke the paint's black and white neck. “Uh, today might not be a good time, Morgan. He's really ... uh ... busy. Maybe I can—"
"No. I'm not."
They both turned. Nick, looking gorgeous but tired in jeans and a dark blue t-shirt, was standing framed in the barn doorway, hands planted on his hips, a bridle dangling from one wrist.
Jake's 'oh shit' and her 'Oh God' were muttered in unison.
"I have to go,” Jake mumbled beside her, “stuff to do and all that."
He practically dragged the horse away and Morgan wondered at his sudden nervousness. She was the one being cut by piercing, heavy-lidded blue eyes and a not-too-welcoming expression. Nerves raw, she wet her lips, gathering her scattered wits while trying to catch her breath for the next step.
"I have to admit I never expected to see you here,” Nick stated, gliding towards her, his brawny, tanned muscles bunching and flexing. The bridle jingled in his hand. Six-foot-plus of hulking male moved with pantherish grace towards her. Intimidated she shrank back before she could stop herself.
He stopped, raised an eyebrow and cocked his head to the side, assessing her. “You want me to stop here so you feel safer? Or back up a little?” He raised his hands, holding them out in front of himself as he moved several steps back away from her. The bridle swayed, suspended from his wrist. She blinked, uncertain how to respond. He seemed almost glad that she was here, yet ... not.
"Nick, I don't ... um. That is ... I came to..."
As she stuttered to a stop, lost in confused silence about how to proceed, he heaved a loud sigh, muttered something under his breath, and walked right up to her, bracing his arms on either side of her and trapping her against the car. Morgan squeaked and her hands came up to push him away, only to land and rest on his chest. His heart pounded beneath her palms, its rapid rhythm mirroring her own. Suddenly he leaned down close, brushing her ear with his nose, then his mouth. Morgan's breath halted in her throat. Having him this close was wreaking havoc on her nerves and turning her blood flow into a sluggish pool centered low in her abdomen. Her skin felt too tight for her body ... He nipped her ear, just barely, and she whimpered, jerking up against him.
"You came to me sweetheart,” his mouth drifted down, oh so close to the fluttering pulse in her throat between her collarbones, “you came to me."
Morgan's head fell back. She forgot about the hard metal of the roof behind her and cringed just before the moment of impact. But the hard hit never came; Nick's hand was there, cradling her, shielding her from harm, his fingers tangling in her thick mane of hair.
"Nick...” she whispered, “please...” She didn't know what she was asking for exactly, only that he was so close, not quite touching her with his body but still ... so close, and it felt so ... good ... so different from what she was used to feeling.
"Uh-uh sweetheart.” His voice was low and soft. His fingers shifted through her hair, then came around to cup her chin. His eyes were the bluest she'd ever seen them as they touched upon every part of her face, lingering on her cheek. His thumbs stroked over her bottom lip, the contact light, just the way he had several weeks ago, but her nerve endings fired, making her conscious of the scorching heat of her body. Arousal. Just like that.
"You're going to have to give me a some kind of guideline as to how to proceed sweetheart, because I admit ... handling you can be damned confusing, tricky even, and from now on I'm not taking any risks."
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Chapter 15
"So why did you come, Morgan?"
It took her a few seconds but then she looked up at him, blinking those lovely eyes in dazed confusion, as if she had just realized he had stopped nuzzling her and had spoken. If she didn't respond soon he was definitely going back to nuzzling. Never give away a good opportunity his grandfather had always said.
She cleared her throat and he noticed a fine layer of goose bumps had risen on her skin. One corner of his mouth kicked up. It damned sure wasn't cold.
"I-I wanted to tell you thank you ... for the uh-flowers, but they aren't necessary. Really. There's nothing for you to be sorry about. So please ... stop.” The last word came out husky, slightly above a whisper and he got the feeling she didn't really want to say it.
He frowned, “What flowers?"
"The flowers and notes ... the ones in my mailbox and...” she nibbled her bottom lip and a frown creased her forehead, “porch."
He slowly shook his head and stepped back slightly, giving her, and him, some breathing room. “Sorry, sweetheart, but I don't know what you're talking about."
"Oh God ... you didn't...” she trailed off, going pale. “I'm so sorry, I just thought.... I-I need to go.” She spun around, lunging for her car door and yanking on the handle.
"Morgan. Morgan stop.” Damn it! Not again. This time was not going to end in a fucked up mess.
His hand landed hard on her shoulder, harder than he meant and she shrieked, but then immediately went still with one hand on the door handle and the other hand clamped over her mouth. The sudden utter stillness in her body was almost eerie, especially when just one second ago she had been in a flurry of activity to escape him. Using as little force as he could manage he turned her stiff body around until she faced him again.
"Nuh-uh Morgan. Don't go there, baby.” She gave a slight flinch when he raised his hand, but when all he did was caress her jaw the tenseness began to ebb from her body.
"Wh-where?"
"Wherever your mind went just then. It doesn't belong there. Not with us."
Her chest expanded on a deep breath. “I'm sorry ... but someti—"
"Hush.” He pressed a finger to her lips, shushing her. “First of all,” he said, “I'm sick and tired of you running away from me. It makes it really hard to get to know you. Second,” his voice changed, turning cold; “second, I'd like to murder the fucker who hurt you."
Somewhere far away in her past life Morgan would have been offended by his blunt, crude language, but instead his low, savage voice mesmerized, pulling her out of that dark mental zone that was so familiar. He was angry for her, and it was thrilling. His words resonated through her head, making her body crave something she had never known.
"His name was Richard,” she whispered, “and he's already dead."
"No,” he caressed her throat, her collarbones. Each touch a featherlight exploration that had her quivering against him. “Every time you flinch from me you bring him back to life."
She ducked her head, letting her hair fall forward to hide her hot blush.
"Nick..."
"There's something between us, you know,” he said softly. He pushed her hair back and his warm breath stroked her temple, fluttering the baby-fine hairs near her ear, “whether you or I want it or not. I've been fighting for weeks to get you out of my mind and nothing works. And the nights ... you're with me there too, sweetheart. I tried to leave you alone for your sake, but here you are ... messing with me again."
He eased his big body closer to hers, making her even more aware of the loose cage of his arms, of the hard metal at her back. Of how much she wanted him. He exuded raw masculine power but instead of being afraid of it, of him, she felt comforted ... and she wanted more. For once in her life Richard wasn't winning, and if this shivery, heated, flushed sensation running over her was anything to go by, then her body certainl
y didn't feel threatened either.
Nick's voice, low and husky, right above her brought her back from her inward examination.
"Trust me...” his head dipped and his lips smoothed over her forehead, then her temple, slowly to her cheekbone and down ... She closed her eyes on a soft sigh when he reached the corner of her mouth. “I'm not going to hurt you, Morgan. All men aren't monsters. There are some decent guys in the world and you're going to have to trust one some day. It might as well be me.” Then he kissed her, not hard or demanding, but soft and slow, barely touching her lips with his. Teasing her before backing off.
Her heart ached, her body sizzled. How she wanted to believe, wanted to allow herself to just feel, for once, what it was like to be held tenderly. She wanted more of this, of what he was showing her right now.
He was watching her; she could feel the heated weight of his stare while his thumb stroked the sensitive spot just below her ear. Her body felt different, her stomach coiled tight, waiting ... wanting. She was almost panting. Alarmed, she pushed at him, her palms meeting the smooth material of his t-shirt and hard muscles of his chest beneath. He let her go and stepped back, giving them both some space, but the brief contact had shocked her, and her feelings, her ... desire, she realized, didn't fade.
He blew out a deep breath. “Would it help if I admitted to doing the flower thing?"
She almost smiled, would have if her body wasn't in such turmoil. “Of course not, you'd be lying."
He grinned slightly, “Yeah, well, call me opportunistic."
She exhaled slowly, forcing her body back from the chaos he had unleashed inside her, and struggling with the impulse to let go and leap into the unknown. “I ... have issues, Nick ... big issues. You already know that. You've seen how I react sometimes. I don't do it on purpose ... and I hate it.” Her voice quivered along with her chin. “I have scars and I limp. I can't see what you—"
"Hush, it's not your fault."
She tucked her chin to her chest, letting her hair fall forward. Her shield against her shame.
"No you don't.” Using his fingertips he bullied her chin up. “Look at me,” he demanded, “straight in the eyes.” She blushed, meeting his warm indigo gaze. “None of that is your fault, Morgan."
She opened her mouth to negate him, but then the loud rumble of a diesel engine drew both their gazes to the driveway. A huge white horse van, the kind pulled by a semi, was slowly making its way towards them. Nick cursed, clearly upset by the interruption and then motioned the driver to park near the barn. He turned back to her, grasping her chin in his hand. “Did you hear what I said? None of what happened to you is your fault, Morgan."
She nodded as much as she could since he was still holding her chin, but something in her eyes must have upset him because he cursed again.
"Look, come back in a few days,” he urged, “I'd say tomorrow but this,” he jerked his head in the direction of the semi, “should be delivering six horses and I want to give them a few days of adjustment. This is Sunday, by Wednesday I should be clear. Come back and I'll show you around, tell you about some of the horses. No pressure, Morgan. I promise."
She hesitated for a long moment, balanced on the edge of an abyss, dizzy with the direction her life had suddenly taken and overwhelmed by the big man in front of her. You may never have this chance again, Morgan. Don't let Richard rule you from the grave.
"Okay.” She nodded, wondering if she had lost her mind. “Wednesday then."
* * * *
Thirty minutes later, after dealing with the paperwork concerning the new arrivals, he found Jake cleaning out one of the empty stalls, readying it for one of the new horses, and planted himself in the doorway. “Happen to know anything about flowers and notes, little brother?"
Jake shrugged, not even bothering to look not-guilty, “That would depend on if they worked or not."
Nick snorted a laugh, “Well, lucky for you in a roundabout way they did, but next time mind your own business or I'll shove my boot up your ass.” He turned in the doorway, and then paused, “Dare I ask what the notes said?"
Jake grinned in amusement, “Don't worry, I kept it very simple. She doesn't think you're Lord Byron or anything like that. But you do owe me about a hundred bucks."
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Chapter 16
Hesitantly, Morgan stepped inside the spacious barn, becoming the immediate focus of at least forty curious horses. Instantly assaulted by the sweet smells of hay, sawdust, leather and the animals she walked over to the first stall and, standing on tiptoe, looked in. A chestnut Arabian glanced at her, flicked his ears, and then went back to munching his hay, dismissing her completely. Not put off she wiggled her fingers while making little clucking noises in her throat. All it produced was a chestnut ear turned her way.
"Oh well,” she smiled, remembering the freedom that could be found on the back of a horse, “your loss."
"That's Sultan. He can be a snob unless you have an apple or carrot."
Morgan whipped around and looked up at Nick as he began descending the loft ladder. “You scared me,” she gasped, one hand plastered against her pounding chest.
"Sorry. That does seem to be a habit."
"Jake said you were in here,” she said, feeling the need to explain her presence. Morgan watched his muscles ripple as he maneuvered down the steep ladder. She hated to admit it but his forearms and biceps were mouth-watering, daring a woman to press her lips to each yummy bulge.
What would it be like to be held by him ... made love to by him? And why the heck are you even thinking about this Morgan Fletcher? Don't you remember how it was with Richard? What about the things he did to you while you were tied up or otherwise helpless? All men like to dominate a woman in some way. Nick may have treated you nicely so far but once he gets you alone he's probably no different, and he's big enough to force you, bigger than Richard, and Richard did whatever he wanted to you. Briefly an image flashed in her mind, of her in front of a mirror, bent over the skinny, hard-edged back of a chair, barely able to breathe because of the crushing pain in her stomach while Richard used her unprepared body in the most degrading way.
Unconsciously her arm went across her stomach. She closed her eyes and cleared her throat, hoping the brief, evil direction her mind had taken didn't show on her face. “Jake said just to wander around until I found you."
"Yeah, I was just on my way to give this alfalfa to the gelding.” Nick gestured down to the far end of the barn, then seized the handles of the wheelbarrow sitting in the aisle. “Come on, he's a little afraid of everyone right now, but he might not mind meeting a beautiful woman like you."
She flushed under the compliment and flashed him a brief, bashful smile. She knew she wasn't beautiful, but it was nice of him to keep saying it. Each thoughtful action or word made the distance between him and Richard loom larger.
"All right.” She trailed after him past countless stalls filled with horses of all kinds. “He's a rescue horse?"
"Yeah. I got him a couple of months ago, a few days before our first meeting.” He grinned and winked at her. “Out of all the horses I've dealt with he's been the toughest one yet. But it's understandable with what he went through."
"How many horses do you have?” The lines of stalls seemed endless.
"Fifty-one total. Thirty-seven are mine—well, Jake claims a couple too—the rest are here for training. “Do you like horses?” He asked casually.
She nodded without glancing up, “Oh yes. I love them."
"Do you ride?"
"I used to, I was taking lessons, but then—"
He looked down at her when she fell silent. “But then what?"
She glanced at him but didn't quite meet his eyes, then cast her gaze down at the ground again, never breaking stride. “But then I hurt my leg."
Nick said nothing, but when she looked back up there was a muscle ticking in his jaw that hadn't been there before.
They entered a short conn
ecting hallway and he pushed the hay through a set of open double doors. Eyes widening in amazement at the huge open space in front of her, Morgan stopped dead and just looked around. She realized that they had entered an indoor riding ring, complete with mirrored walls on one side, just like in dressage barns, and a long sectioned off exercise pool at the far end. Morgan had only seen those used on a TV veterinary show. But apparently Nick spared no expense when it came to the horses.
Awed, she turned around several times, taking in the sheer size of the place. Tall oversized sections of wood made up the walls, with big screened-in windows every third section. Covering the whole ring was a tin roof. Eight large sun panels were fixed into the roof allowing natural light to brighten the arena and a humongous industrial sized fan swirled lazily at the far end near the roof line. A smaller metal ring sat off to the right side. Even the professional barn she had taken a few lessons at couldn't compete with this one.
Out of the corner of her eye she caught a movement in the smaller ring and glanced at it again. A large white horse was standing at the far end with his nose to the ground, gently pushing the dirt around. She followed Nick closer, trailing slightly behind him as they neared the pen.
"He's getting better,” Nick said, “improving daily, it's just going to take time and patience."
"You must have a lot of that. Patience I mean."
He flashed her a grin and answered, “Tons. Although it's reserved for special people and animals."
She smiled back at him, blushing and feeling oddly dreamy.
The moment was broken when the horse, agitated now by their approach, blew a sharp breath and kicked one of the metal railings with his back hoof. The whole ring shuddered. Nick picked up the flake of hay out of the wheelbarrow and went over to the gate. The harsh sound of scraping metal and clinking chains announced that he was unlatching the door. Morgan stood off to the side away from the ring in case the horse went crazy and tried to leap over it. Nick entered the ring and the animal went stock still, then blew sharply through his nose and trotted off to the far side of the ring. Nick dropped the bundle of hay he had been holding and exited the pen.