She’d realized that, too. “Then maybe this is as good a time as any to tell you about it.”
CHAPTER 3
When Anastasia had said that horses scared her, Mac had thought she had the usual garden-variety fear based on a horse’s size and her lack of familiarity with their behavior. Oh, no. He’d signed on to help her with something much bigger. By rights she should see a therapist.
But therapists weren’t thick on the ground in Bickford. Besides that, she didn’t have a lot of time to mess around with driving up to Amarillo or down to Lubbock for sessions. Filming, and the publicity that would go with it, began in three weeks.
He hoped his help would be enough. All he could do was his best. So far, this drawing exercise seemed to be working okay. She’d finished one sketch of Jasper and had begun a second.
“When I was six,” she began, “I’d seen several movies where the girl in the story rode bareback . . . somewhere. Either she was racing over the plains or galloping on the moors or leaping stone walls in Virginia. It looked so easy.”
He wished he could have known that six-year-old. He would have been a worldly kid of thirteen, though, and might have thought she was a nuisance. Adolescent boys just discovering their sexuality tended to focus on cheerleaders and seminude movie stars.
She leaned closer to her drawing and added some detail he couldn’t see from here. He wondered if she’d forgotten about telling him her story. Just as he was about to prompt her, she started up again.
“Georgie and my stepdad each had a horse but my mother wouldn’t let me ride.” She glanced up from her work, her expression puzzled. “I never thought of this before, but do you suppose she’s scared of horses?”
“Maybe. You could ask her.”
Anastasia shook her head, which made her glossy ponytail swing gently. “She’d never admit it to me.”
“I’ll bet it wasn’t easy for you to admit it to me, either.”
“No, but I had to if I wanted to fix the problem, and better you than anyone else I could think of.” She met his gaze. “Horses are beautiful, you know.”
“I do know.” And so are you. Her shirt had a lot of green in it, which made her eyes seem more green than brown. She had really long lashes, too. At times they added to her sex appeal, but today, maybe because they were talking about her childhood, they made her appear young and vulnerable.
“I had a professor who told us we could never let fear stand in the way of our art. I’ve been doing that.”
“But your pictures of the Ghost are great. I don’t see how they could get any better.”
She smiled. “Oh, they will. Even watching the video you took that one time can’t replace firsthand experience. Just looking at Jasper tells me that. My drawings of the Ghost might be technically good, but once I see him, they’ll be so much better. I’ll be able to capture his spirit.”
He gazed at her in admiration. “I can’t wait to see the picture you draw after you’ve seen him.”
“I can’t wait, either.” She smiled. “But don’t worry. I won’t steal a horse and ride off into the night by myself. I learned my lesson on that score.”
“That’s what you did?”
“Of course! I’d seen those movies.”
“Six years old, never been on a horse, and you thought you could ride bareback all by yourself.” But around the same age he’d jumped off the roof wearing a cape, so who was he to talk?
“I was barefoot and only had on a nightgown. I was going to race on Prince, Georgie’s horse, through a moonlit meadow. For all I knew, fairies and elves would show up.”
His heart ached for that little girl’s brave fantasy.
“I got on him and he started off at a walk.”
He waited, knowing the story had to get worse.
Her hand moved quickly over the paper as if keeping up with her racing thoughts. “But walking lacked drama, so I yelled at him and kicked him again. He broke into a trot, although I didn’t understand what that was then. I screamed, and he panicked, I guess. He was a lot younger then.” The pace of her breathing picked up. “I’m not sure what happened after that, but I think he might have started to gallop. We were going pretty fast.”
Mac closed his eyes in dismay. “You could have been killed.”
“On some level I knew that. This huge animal was out of control and I was about to die. I was hysterical, which only made him go faster. Then I yelled as loud as I could, and he stopped abruptly. I went right over his head.”
He sucked in a breath. Even though she was sitting in front of him and obviously fine, the scene was horrific to contemplate. Maybe elves and fairies had been in the meadow watching out for her, after all.
“I could have been seriously hurt, but by some miracle I was only dazed and banged up a little. Prince hung around at first, but in my mind he’d turned into a demon horse and I screamed at him to get away. Eventually he headed for home.”
“And you were alone out there.”
“Not for long. It was summer so Georgie had her window open. Later she told me that she’d heard somebody out in the barn. She knows me pretty well, so she must have guessed I’d do something like that. She checked my room, threw on some clothes, and came after me.”
“And you were completely traumatized.”
“Not only by that, but I’d defied my mother. I was terrified of what she’d do if she found out. She doesn’t like being disobeyed.”
“So I gather.”
“Georgie smuggled me back into the house, cleaned me up, and promised never to tell anyone.” She glanced up from her sketch pad. “Although it probably doesn’t matter anymore, you’re one of three people in the world who know about my stupidity.”
“It wasn’t stupid. It was creative. Little kids think they’re invincible. Even some big kids.” He wanted to gather her close and comfort her, but that wasn’t a good idea. Besides, she was still working on her second sketch of Jasper. He would never dream of interrupting her while she was working.
“This was a fabulous idea, Mac. Drawing Jasper and trying to get the right expression in his eyes makes me see him as an individual, a creature with needs and fears just like mine.”
“As a prey animal, he has more reason to fear you than you have to fear him.”
She looked up in surprise. “But he’s huge. Why would he be afraid of little old me?”
“Ever heard that phrase Eyes in front, born to hunt. Eyes on the side, run and hide?”
“I have.” She glanced at Jasper. “But I always thought of rabbits and deer versus coyotes and bobcats. Jasper seems much more capable of defending himself.”
“Not necessarily any more than a deer. And we’re definitely in the predator category, yet we expect him to carry us on his back, which puts him at potential risk if we should want to hurt him.”
Her expression grew thoughtful. “I never considered that.”
“If you put yourself in his place, and I know you can do that or you wouldn’t be able to draw Ida with that rebellious gleam in her eye, it might change everything.”
She laughed. “Ida is my second favorite subject.”
He decided not to ask who her favorite subject was. He had a feeling he already knew. She claimed that her interest was purely artistic. He hoped that was true and Ida was on the wrong track.
If Anastasia didn’t cross the line, he certainly wouldn’t. He had so many reasons not to make a move. Being alone with her in the barn had demonstrated what he’d been trying to deny. He wanted Anastasia Bickford.
But he was no longer driven by his hormones, thank God. At one time in his life he wouldn’t have been able to teach her how to ride without giving in to temptation. But he had to have faith in himself and believe those days were behind him.
When she’d first asked, he’d shied away. But now that he’d heard her story, he
was glad he’d eventually said he’d do it. He wanted to help remove this block to her creativity. He believed in her future as an artist, and if he could contribute to that, great.
“I could work on this drawing forever, but I think I’ve kept you long enough.” She carefully started tearing the pages from her sketch pad.
“That’s okay. As I said, the carpet can wait.” And he didn’t want this moment to end. He’d have to watch himself. He might be able to keep from reaching for her, but if he started craving her company that would be almost as bad.
“I’m sure you’ll feel better if you get a start on it tonight.” She stood and handed him the drawings. “These are for you.”
“Oh, I couldn’t take those.”
“You don’t want them?”
“Of course I want them. But your stuff is worth a fair amount of money these days. You can’t go giving away a—”
“Your time is also valuable, so consider this the beginning of our barter agreement. You’ll need some art for the walls of your house, anyway. You can get Georgie to mat and frame them for you. She’s really into that these days.”
“She’s good at it, too.”
“Thank God for that. You can’t imagine the damage I can do with a sharp blade.”
Mac nodded. “Yes, I can.”
“Hey, you’re not supposed to agree with me.” She tucked her sketch pad in her messenger bag and slung it over her shoulder. “You’re supposed to say I just need a little more practice, or I’m probably not as bad as I think I am. Something along those lines.”
“Sorry.” He grinned at her. “I’ve been hearing stories ever since I moved here. According to those stories, you’re a brilliant artist but you’re also a klutz. I’m glad Georgie’s convinced you to let her mat and frame for you.”
“She didn’t exactly convince me as much as order me away from the matting knife on pain of death. That was after I nearly sliced open an artery.” She held out her arm to show him the cut. It had healed, but an angry red slash remained on her delicate skin.
He winced and resisted the urge to lean down and kiss the spot. “Does Georgie know you were planning to ask me for riding lessons?”
“Not yet, but I’m going to tell her unless you don’t want me to.”
“Even if I didn’t want you to, we couldn’t keep it secret. We’ll be using Jasper and probably Cinder, so Ed and Vivian will know. Eventually the rest of the town will figure it out, too, but they don’t have to hear the whole complicated story.”
“I’d appreciate that. Like I said, I’m no longer terrified of repercussions from my mother, but I see no reason to stir up old issues. Those horses were a source of friction between her and my stepdad.”
“Then we’ll just say you need to learn so you can sketch the Ghost in his natural habitat.” He gazed at her. “It’s hard to believe you’ve never seen the meadow or Sing-Song Creek.”
“Only in pictures.”
“Why not hike out there? I know it’s a substantial distance, but—”
“It is, and I’ve never been much of a hiker. I keep stopping to draw something and before you know it, the day’s gone and I’m too far out to make it back before dark. I don’t know much about camping, either. On horseback is the way to go, especially if someone is with me who will keep me moving.”
“I can do that, although I enjoy it when you start sketching something. It makes me take a closer look. I’m guilty of seeing things in a superficial way.”
She shrugged. “We all do that sometimes.”
“I’ll bet you don’t do it much. These are great.” He studied the two sketches she’d given him. The first one of him stroking Jasper’s nose made him smile, but the second one of Jasper by himself peering over the stall door tugged at his heart.
She’d captured Jasper’s eager interest in whatever the humans were doing. Not every horse cared, but Jasper watched the people in his life as if they were a constant source of entertainment for him. Anastasia had seen that and put it on paper. What a gift she had.
But looking at the sketches made him think of one more step she should probably take while she was here and feeling reasonably mellow. “Before you leave, why not pet him a little bit?”
“Pet him?” The anxiety in her voice was obvious as she gave the horse a nervous glance. “Do I have to?”
“No, but he’d like it if you did. Think about this from his perspective. He loves being rubbed and scratched, so you’d be doing him a big favor.”
She gazed at the horse. “Is that right, Jasper? Are you looking for a little scratch?”
Jasper bobbed his head, which was probably only a reflex that had nothing to do with nodding. But his timing was perfect.
Anastasia turned to Mac with a wide smile. “Did you see that? He does!”
“Then go right ahead.” He wasn’t about to disabuse her of the notion. She was once a girl who’d believed in fairies and elves. She still might have some of those fantasies, and if he could add a magical horse, why not? Besides, Jasper was a really smart animal. Somebody might have taught him to nod when asked a question.
“Would you please hold my bag?” She held it toward him.
“You bet.” The canvas bag was old and almost colorless from age and much use. She’d probably had it for years, maybe since high school. Whenever he pictured Anastasia, and he did quite often, she was carrying this bag over her shoulder or resting it beside her chair while she worked. He handled it with care.
Moving slowly and cautiously, she approached the stall. “I’ve never done this before, Jasper,” she murmured. “I don’t know much about horses in general and you in particular, but if you want a little scratch, then you deserve one for being such a good boy and a cooperative subject.”
Mac swallowed a chuckle. Jasper hadn’t been given much choice. He was stuck in that stall. But he was a friendly horse, which was why Mac had chosen him for the portrait session.
She lifted a hand toward the horse and then hesitated. “Mac, where do I start?”
“You could stroke his nose, first. He likes that, too.”
“Promise he won’t bite me.”
“He won’t bite you. But if you’re worried about it, keep your fingers together so they don’t look like carrots.”
“Carrots?” She pulled her hand away. “He could mistake my fingers for carrots? I’m not doing this. I need my fingers. My fingers are my life.”
“Here.” He stepped forward and took her hand. “We’ll do it together.”
“We could put this off, you know.” But she allowed him to guide her to Jasper’s forehead while his hand protectively covered her precious fingers.
Good old Jasper stood quietly as Mac moved her hand slowly down his nose. Then he repeated the motion.
“He’s very soft,” she murmured.
“Yeah.” But she was even softer and she smelled great, like . . . cookies baking. “Now we’ll scratch his neck.” He moved her hand under Jasper’s mane.
“Okay, I think I have this.” Her voice quavered a little.
“You sure?”
“Yep. He’d have to be some kind of contortionist to bite my fingers while they’re up under his mane. Thanks for getting me over the hump.”
“No problem.” He stepped away with regret, another warning sign. He was enjoying this teaching business way too much. On top of that, watching her scratch Jasper’s neck made him want things he shouldn’t, like her delicate fingers lightly scratching his chest, or his back, or his thighs, or . . . .
He stared up into the rafters of the barn while he disengaged from that line of thought. What had he decided only moments ago? That he was capable of giving her riding lessons without letting the experience become sexual?
Well, he was capable of that, damn it. Now this project had become a matter of pride, a test to see whether he’d
evolved. She’d trusted him with a secret that only her beloved stepsister, Georgie, knew. She needed his help to take her Ghost-inspired art to the next level.
Using that situation to introduce sex into their relationship wasn’t playing fair. He was better than that. He’d prove that to himself if nothing else.
“You were right,” she said. “He really likes this.”
Taking a deep breath, Mac brought his attention back to Anastasia and the horse she was caressing. Jasper, the lucky nag, was blissed out. His head hung low and his eyes had drifted half-closed as Anastasia ran her fingernails over his silky neck in a rhythmic pattern.
Mac couldn’t keep watching that. Certain things were likely to happen if he did. If she thought his crotch had been interesting while they’d stood outside her gate, she’d find a whole other artistic challenge there if he didn’t get out of this barn ASAP.
He grabbed the first excuse that came to mind, the one she’d given him earlier. “I’ve been thinking about that carpet.” His nose would grow for sure with that whopper. “I would feel better if I get some of it pulled up tonight.” And the physical labor would help him deal with some very inappropriate thoughts about her.
“Told you so.” She gave Jasper one final scratch. “See you later, handsome.” Then she turned toward Mac. “Thank you. Petting him was exactly what I needed to do. The idea of riding him or any horse still scares the snot out of me, but I’ve made progress.”
“Yes, you have.” Her open expression filled him with joy and another less noble emotion. But he’d conquer this attack of lust or know the reason why. He handed back her messenger bag. “Then I’ll see you here at six in the morning?”
She groaned. “I knew you were going to say that. All right, but I’m warning you that I’ll be a zombie.”
“That’ll actually be better than if you’re totally awake.”
“I don’t see how. My coordination isn’t great under the best of circumstances. If I’m half-asleep, I could slip right out of the saddle.”
“In the first place, I wasn’t planning to have you get up on Jasper tomorrow.”
Wild About the Wrangler Page 4
