Wild Horses in Love

by Terri A. Wilson

  His shoulders relaxed, and his eyes softened. “Are you all right? What happened?” He reached for the vase and uprighted it onto the table.

  “I’m sorry.” She wiped at the mess on her clothes, but it was useless. “I tried to get out without bothering you. Seemed like an important phone call.”

  He put the phone in his pocket. “Not one I want to deal with.”

  “I hope it’s not too bad.”

  “I’ll take care of it.”

  The camera bag slid off her shoulder. “Damn it.”

  He reached for it. “Did your camera get wet?”

  She kneeled on the floor and checked out the equipment. “No, it’s all okay.”

  He knelt on the floor next to her and picked up the bag. She raised an eyebrow.

  “I’m not taking it. I just thought I’d carry it for you.”

  “It’s not that heavy.”

  “Yeah, but what gentleman lets a woman carry her own bag?”

  The butterflies returned. Bigger, pterodactyl-sized.

  He followed her to the main lobby. “So, um, you’re a photographer?”

  She smiled. “Yep.”

  They stopped at the main door, and he returned her bag.

  “You’ll be here tomorrow night?” he asked.

  “Yeah.”

  “Great. I’ll see you then. Maybe you can bid on me.” He put his hands in his pockets.

  “Are you a victim?”

  A subtle wave of pink rose from his neck. “That doesn’t make it sound like any fun.”

  “Oh, I didn’t mean anything by that. It’s for such a great cause. I’m sure you’ll bring in a huge bid.” Her eyes, acting on their own accord, darted to his crotch.

  What am I doing?

  His eyebrows raised. “Really?”

  Her hand covered her mouth. “That didn’t sound right. I’m sorry.”

  He snickered. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “Yeah tomorrow.”

  She turned away but felt his eyes on her the whole way to her car.

  Her main task tonight had nothing to do with developing the pictures from today. She needed to scrounge her place for every penny she could find because she had a man to buy.

  Chapter Five

  Dominic

  “Then what the hell am I paying you for?” Dominic screamed into his phone. “Maybe I should make your next payment dependent on how you handle this.”

  “Dominic, Dom, I’ve taken care of you since the beginning. I’ve got this,” his lawyer said.

  He held the phone away from his ear, inhaled, and scanned the view from the window he faced. Outside, red and brown ombre mountains reached for the sky. One peak stood higher than the other, and the layers of age reminded him of an hourglass. With his eyes closed and his shifter senses open, he could hear water running, rapids he assumed. The smell of ash and beef filled his nose. If he wasn’t mistaken, Dottie’s voice carried in the distance. Something about potatoes and cornbread.

  He exhaled and, in a controlled voice, said, “Thomas, there’s a reason I hired you and your firm. You didn’t come recommended because you were a solo practice at that point. This is a stupid lawsuit. Christopher Stevens was drunk and endangered my employees. I was well within my rights.”

  The sound of shuffling papers muted Thomas’ voice.

  “I don’t fucking care what he does. I pay you good money to keep this from happening,” he yelled. Control was overrated.

  “Just a minute.” More shuffling papers and a muted conversation. “Okay, look, I hired a private detective to see what he can find on him. If we can figure out what she wants, maybe we can see why he thinks this will fly. Can you get into the office today?”

  “I can’t come back tonight. I will be there by Monday at the earliest.” He stopped pacing. He balanced the phone between his head and shoulder and rubbed the inside of his hand.

  “Breathe. 1,2,3,4,” he said to himself.

  Thud.

  “Crap,” a woman’s voice said.

  He spun around to see the woman from before. Her eyes were wide, and a red wave rose from her neck to her cheeks. She stood there with an ugly, upside-down, oversized vase. Water poured on her and the floor. Goosebumps rose on her arms and her nipples pushed against her t-shirt. The water must have been cold, but she didn’t move to stop it.

  He turned his back to her. “I have to call you back.”

  Her eyes widened, and she froze. “Um, er.”

  She wore her thick hair in a high ponytail. The eyes staring back at him felt so familiar. Her energy was like a magnet. An image of taking out her ponytail and watching the hair cascade over her shoulders made it hard to focus on anything.

  He shook his head to clear the other image that popped into his mind. That idea would never fly with a woman he just met. “Are you all right? What happened?” He reached for the vase and put it back on the table.

  “I’m sorry.” She wiped at the mess on her clothes, but it was useless. “I tried to get out without bothering you. Seemed like an important phone call.”

  He put the phone in his pocket. “Not one I want to deal with.”

  “I hope it’s not too bad.”

  “I’ll take care of it.”

  The camera bag slid off her shoulder. “Damn it.”

  He reached for it. “Did your camera get wet?”

  She kneeled on the floor and checked out the equipment. “No, it’s all okay.”

  He knelt on the floor next to her and picked up the bag. The horse inside her soul was beautiful. His horse sensed her, too, and wanted to know more, way more than would be decent in public.

  She raised an eyebrow and held her bag closer.

  “I’m not taking it. I just thought I’d carry it for you.”

  “It’s not that heavy.”

  “Yeah, but what gentleman lets a woman carry her own bag?”

  He followed her to the main lobby. “So, um, you’re a photographer?”

  She smiled. “Yep.”

  They stopped at the main door, and he returned her bag.

  “You’ll be here tomorrow night?” he asked.

  “Yeah.”

  “Great. I’ll see you then. Maybe you can bid on me.” He put his hands in his pockets.

  “Are you one of the victims?”

  Heat crawled up his back, and his cheeks warmed. Embarrassment? No woman fazed him like that before. Who the hell was this woman? “That doesn’t make it sound like any fun.”

  When she smiled at his teasing, her entire face became that smile. Her eyes twinkled, and tiny lines outlined the edges. “Oh, I meant nothing by that. It’s for such a great cause. I’m sure you’ll bring in a huge bid.”

  Her eyes darted to his crotch. The pink on her cheeks turned crimson.

  He chuckled. “Really?”

  Her hand covered her mouth. “That didn’t sound right. I’m sorry.”

  He snickered. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “Yeah tomorrow.”

  Watching her walk away was like watching a feather float to the ground. She moved with grace, comfort, and confidence. Most of the women he dated worked hard to create a facade of beauty, but this woman in jeans, Chuck Taylors, and a ponytail did what they never could.

  “See you’ve met Opie.” Cameron walked up to him at the door.

  “Opie? Is that her name?”

  “Well, her real name is Opal, but everyone calls her Opie.”

  “As in the TV show?” He watched her Jeep ride down the entry road.

  “I don’t know why they call her Opie. I’ve just always known her more as Opie than Opal.” Cameron wiped his hands on a rag. “We finished the last of the work for the day. Thanks for your help. Didn’t expect that.”

  Dominic followed Cam inside. “I’m not one for just sitting in a hotel room and watching TV. I worked with a guy who made furniture when I was younger, so handy work is comfortable.”

  Camer
on turned his head. “I don’t see you as a hands-dirty kind of guy.”

  “You’d be surprised.”

  “I’m headed to the kitchen for a beer. Want one?”

  “You don’t have to ask me twice.”

  They walked through the dining room to the kitchen. Everyone hustled around the kitchen in an orchestrated chaos. Dottie was a different woman dressed in her chef’s jacket and hair pulled back away from her face.

  She lifted her head, smiled, and said, “Hey Cameron. Dominic, what brings you back here?”

  Cameron turned his head between them. “You two know each other?”

  “We met on the plane,” Dominic said.

  Cam flicked his hand on Dominic’s arm. “You aren’t here to take her away like you tried with Eliza?”

  Dominic puffed out his chest. “Not yet.”

  Dottie chuckled. “I’m not leaving, Cam. Don’t worry.”

  A doorbell rang. Dottie went to a backdoor and held it open for the man who drove them from the airport. The smile she gave him was twice the size of the one she gave them. Her eyelids lowered as she laughed, and the smell of pheromones filled the kitchen. The man she helped seemed oblivious to any of Dottie’s flirting.

  “The beer is in the back. Probably a sandwich or two. You hungry.”

  At the mention of food, Dominic’s stomach growled.

  Cameron smirked. “I guess so. There’s a quieter workstation in the back. We can eat there or go out to the dining room.”

  “In here is fine.” He followed Cameron through a maze of people and prep tables.

  Cameron pulled up two stools then disappeared into a walk-in cooler.

  He returned with two beers and a plastic storage bin of sandwich ingredients.

  The men made their food and sat on the stools.

  Dominic had a drink from the beer bottle. The stout nutty beer went down smooth. “This is good. One of yours?”

  Cameron nodded. “Don’t you mean ours?”

  Dominic held the bottle away to see the label. Wild Horses Brewery. He took another drink.

  “We sent out our first grocery store shipment last week. Two of the three stores have already sold out.”

  “That’s good. I guess we should talk about the brewery while I’m here.”

  Cameron started making a second sandwich. “Yeah, my brother Caleb has a whole frickin presentation ready for you.”

  Dominic rolled his eyes. “PowerPoint?”

  “You betcha. He added graphs, charts, and a bunch of other crap.”

  “He likes that stuff, doesn’t he?”

  “Have you met my twin? Very anal.”

  Dominic reached for the food bin. One sandwich was not enough. “Hey, that’s all right. Numbers speak louder than words. Maybe we can meet tomorrow, before the auction.”

  The two fell silent as they finished their second sandwich.

  Cameron asked him if he wanted another one, and when Dominic declined, he started packing up the food.

  “So, you said you used to make furniture,” he asked Dominic.

  “That was my third job.”

  “What was your first job?”

  “Mowing lawns.”

  Cameron rested his backside against a counter, crossed his feet at the ankles, and held his arms over his chest.

  “How did you go from mowing lawns to buying, buying, wait what all do you buy?”

  “I specialize in finding a starting business, buying it, then selling it back to the people who started it. Take you and your brothers, for example. I didn’t buy the whole brewery but I’m the majority owner. I can put the money into it you need and then sell you my shares. Once you are profitable.” He balanced the footstool on its back legs. “When I mowed lawns, I noticed there was a lot of competition, and people went with the cheapest kid. But they got what they paid for. I convinced all the kids to come work for me. I got the contracts, implemented quality control, and people started paying more. We all made more money. I used the money I made and bought an ice cream truck. When I sold the lawn business, I bought another ice cream truck and kinda did the same thing.”

  “How old were you?”

  “I was seventeen when I started mowing lawns.”

  “So now you loan businesses money? Sounds risky.”

  “I suppose. I’m an excellent judge of character, though.”

  “Ever been screwed?”

  Dominic shrugged. “Once or twice. People want to be successful. When they own a piece of their dream business, they work harder.”

  He tipped up the beer bottle to his mouth and drained the rest. “You got more?”

  “What do you think? Same kind or something different?”

  “Doesn’t matter.”

  It was hours before the dinner. A nap seemed like a good idea, but he had too much nervous energy.

  His suite overlooked the pool. He watched a young couple playing in the water. Wolves from their smell. They were happy, and if they didn’t get back to their room soon, the whole resort would have front row tickets. Shifters weren’t as sheltered about sex as humans, but it still felt like an invasion of their privacy. Most male shifters didn’t like to share, either. Decorum suggested he turn away, but it was mesmerizing to watch them.

  He grew aroused and grumpy with no satisfying way to take care of the stiff erection pushing against his pants. His mind wandered to the photographer he met today. Her dark eyes filled with a mix of happiness and sadness. Something about her drew him in and gave him a place to hide.

  He decided to find out her story, and if he could do anything to help, he would.

  Google loaded on his computer as he logged into his computer. The first story listed, in glaring letters, “Is this how business deals are done these days?” Right below the title was a picture of him holding down Chris’ face.

  Fuck. The hashtag Don’t be like Dom was trending. He searched and found several more articles about the lawsuit and many tweets. It was too easy for assholes to sit behind a computer monitor and judge people. When did it become acceptable to share an unrequested opinion?

  His suitcase sat on the bed, unpacked. The copy of The National Landscape stood up from the top pocket. He took out the magazine and laid on the bed.

  The cover showed three women from a Nigerian anti-poaching unit. None of them smiled and their faces held no expression. But their eyes glinted in the sun bringing their stories to life. It was a fantastic photograph.

  The article showcased these windows in various assignments needed for their jobs. Each picture leaped from the page. The story was well-written, but the pictures made it great.

  In the end were brief biographies and photos of the writer and the photographer. The writer’s headshot was standard and boring. Typical of the magazine. The photographer’s headshot was the opposite. It showed her sitting sideways in a chair, her feet dangling over the chair’s arm. Where the writer wore a professional outfit, the photographer wore jeans, a flannel shirt, and pink Chuck Taylors.

  Pink Chuck Taylors.

  Oh, my God.

  Dominic dropped his feet to the floor and stared at her name. Opal Ibarra. It was the woman who took the pictures in his bar, and it was the woman he met in the ballroom. It was the woman who randomly tickled his curiosity. The woman whose pictures helped him calm his anger and maintain a level head. And she was the same woman who would be taking his pictures at this auction. What the actual fuck?

  He found his phone and sent Wednesday a text.

  Can I help someone with bidding?

  Huh? Wednesday included an odd smiley face emoji.

  Can I bid on myself or pay someone to do it?

  That kinda takes the fun out of it doesn’t it? Are you worried no one will want you?

  How did he answer that?

  Wednesday continued. Gerri says everything will work out the way it should. She’s a bit of a trip, I think.

  She had no idea.

  He responded. Yeah okay. What time is the thing ton
ight?

  In an hour.

  Are we doing pictures today or tomorrow?

  Tomorrow for sure. Don’t know about this afternoon. She’s invited.

  Okay. See you soon.

  Wednesday used an animated sticker.

  The idea of her being at the dinner sent his anxiety level into tilt. He stepped out onto the balcony and saw two wolves running on a trail that led off the property.

  If he left now, he’d be able to shift and run then come back to clean for dinner.

  The Libre Volare was created to give shifters a safe place to run and entertain their animal spirit. All guests must remain in human form while on the main resort campus, but much of the surrounding land laid wide open for runs and organized hunts.

  He found the trails leading off the property. The resort provided a set of lockers for clothes with the only caveat being, user beware. It was awkward and silly, but it was damn useful.

  Nothing like this existed in his world. Most humans still didn’t acknowledge creatures like shifters existed.

  After stripping off his clothes, he opened his mind to the creature living inside his skin. After a lifetime of shifting, the pain was erotic instead of painful. It bonded him to his horse. Bones broke as muscles and tendons stretched and reshaped. His face melted into a longer snout and big, marble eyes. Hair covered his body, and with a final shake of his head, a mane the color of night fell free.

  The smell of snow floated in the air from a slight distance. A bird called in the distance while rushing water crashed against rocks at the bottom of the canyon.

  With one snort, he took off with a gentle canter but soon pushed his muscles harder and harder as he raced over the trails winding his way to the stream. Warmth covered his legs, and soon perspiration glistened his coat.

  At the bottom, he slowed then drank from the pure water of the stream. The incredible tasting water cooled his anxiety. He studied the landscape. The setting sun ushered a nighttime shadow on the ground. Nocturnal animals began their evening duties while daytime animals settled in for the night. Ice formed at the edges of the stream where it slowed.

  With one more deep breath, he retraced his path, shifted, and went back to his hotel room. Twenty minutes later, he made his way to the deck behind the resort with only one thing on his mind. Find Opal Ibarra and never let her go.