“You are something else, Cassidy O’Hanlon,” Clint groaned, his voice laced with awe.
She chuckled. “Me? You’re the one who made me fly among the stars. This horse stall may not be the most romantic setting one could imagine, but it seems to be doing just fine.”
“Uh huh. More than fine.”
“I do believe there is some unfinished business though,” Cassie said, smiling as seductively as she could. “We need to set you free,” she whispered, unbuckling his belt.
- o -
Gently, Clint laid the beautiful trainer from Chicago on the thick straw-covered floor. He took his time admiring her trim body. He’d been right. Her breasts were perfection, large enough to fill a hand yet small enough to fit into his mouth. Her bare pussy was one of the tiniest he’d ever seen. Its swollen lips remained wide open from his tonguing. Its redness and scent attested to Cassie’s recent orgasm and her anticipation of more. He gripped his cock and grinned a devious smile. “I’m sure you’re used to a bit more luxury than this, but this will have to do. There’s no time for waiting now.”
“No, this will do. I’ll probably have red blotches tomorrow, but that’s tomorrow and this is now. No more waiting, please. Hurry. I need that big thing you’re holding in me. Protection?”
Quickly, he reached for his billfold and extracted the necessary preventive foil. Cassie looked impatient watching through half closed eyelids as he roughly pulled the condom over his rigid cock. If he’d ever been harder, he couldn’t recall such a time.
He ran the tip of his shaft up and down her wetness. Cassie grabbed his arms and pulled him forward. Slowly, he penetrated her sex, feeling her moist heat enfold him.
“You’re filling me,” she moaned, not taking her gaze off of his.
He nodded, seating his entire length in her. “You’re incredibly hot. And this bed seems to work quite nicely.”
“Oh, yes.”
He moved hesitantly to and fro.
She wrapped her legs around his ass. “No need to go slow.”
Silently he agreed. Slow would be okay later, but not now. He picked up the pace.
She matched his efforts thrust for thrust. She thrashed about under him, resisting and then embracing another orgasm. She howled into the night.
Clint swallowed hard trying to keep pace with the woman beneath him. Her squeals of delight echoed from some far off place: from the present and the past, from the past and the future. Spinning out of control, he pumped and pumped. His hips strained. Cassie’s fingernails dug into his back. His breathing stopped and then he erupted. His howls echoed hers. He didn’t stop pummeling her until he was completely drained.
His brain froze and then slowly melted, allowing a thought or two. What in the hell had happened? She was no reluctant lover. She’d overtaken him. Some of his questions were answered. She did indeed emit fire when making love. He held back a chuckle. And she made delightful sounds when on fire.
He shook his head. Be careful. This one could be habit forming. Don’t get burned.
- o -
Cassie huddled in the warmth of Clint’s jacket as they neared her motel in the predawn hours. Awareness of all they’d done on the bed of straw flooded her mind. She still found bits of straw in her hair. Now what? Oh my. Oh my. Oh my. It’s okay. Great sex for a week, if I’m lucky, and then back home. It’s okay. Oh my! Oh my!
He parked the truck. She grinned shyly at him. “I’d invite you in, but we both need to get some sleep.”
Clint nodded, laughing softly. “To do that, I got to get away from your burning flesh. Damn, woman, you could devour me if I let you.”
“I just might,” she said, leaning over to kiss him.
Breaking away from her, he paused, obviously considering his next move. Cassie waited patiently. Although sated for a week, she would like to see him again.
“I have to run down to the ranch and check some things out later today. I’ll try to be back by Wednesday or Thursday at the latest. Maybe we can pick up where we left off then.”
Cassie hesitated. That didn’t sound too promising. If that was the way it was, she could play it cool too. “Sure, why not?”
All day Monday, Cassie had expected a call from the man who had helped her soar to such heights on shedrow. She’d fumed and sputtered about having second thoughts about the entire trip to Wyoming, especially that tryst in the stall. Her body might still be humming, but that didn’t soften her total feeling of rejection.
By late Monday night she’d made her decision. It was time to go home. Her dad would be upset with her for returning early and not giving Hope the entire altitude edge, but she wasn’t about to wait around for some damn cowboy who had left her hanging. He could’ve asked her to go with him to his ranch. She could’ve gotten someone to tend Hope for a day or two. But no, the big jerk just dashed off and left her. So be it.
Early Tuesday morning, Cassie had her tack and horse loaded and headed east on highway 80. With any luck, Chicago and sanity were only two days away.
- o -
Tuesday evening, Clint stomped up and down shedrow. The damn redhead had left him high and dry. He’d come rushing back early to hook up with her and have a fun week. He’d planned on taking her to Salt Lake so he could treat her like the lady she was. Or at least the lady he’d thought she was.
Instead, she’d run out on him.
CHAPTER THREE
“Don’t know why you had to come back so soon,” Tug groused at Cassie. “But it’s good to see you and the filly in good health.”
“I wish you could’ve seen her,” Cassie said, not bothering to hide her grin. “She was so fluid. Unbelievable. We haven’t seen anything like that performance here.”
“Hope she was out in that mountain air long enough to help her next time. So did you meet any interesting folks? I haven’t been at that track for years, but the locals were usually quite hospitable.”
Cassie nearly spilled her coffee and then glanced out toward the pastures near the barn before answering. “A few. Stayed in my motel mostly. Wasn’t a lot to do other than make sure Hope was doing okay. Got a lot of reading done.”
Would she ever see the Utahan again? Did she even want to see him again? Yes. No. Yes. Why was she so ambivalent? All her friends envied her for always being so decisive. The man could only bring her disappointment and broken dreams.
She’d done the right thing by leaving. Cassie brushed dirt from her knee. Had she run away, like her mother did? Nonsense. It was a fling. A one night stand. Granted, a long, heated night.
Standing in the shower in the studio loft apartment over the barn that served as her temporary home, Cassie could hardly believe she’d been back for nearly two weeks. It seemed like months since the Wyoming wind had left her breathless—since she and the cowboy had quenched their lust in the straw.
She’d quickly gotten back into the routine of training horses. Still, she worried about her father. She worried about Cassie’s Hope. She worried about herself. She worried about a dark handsome man, far, far away.
What was he doing? Why hadn’t he called? Did he think about her as often as she thought about him? Damn, why couldn’t she just erase those erotic images from her mind? Too many memories of him touching her skin, of his feel under her fingertips, of exquisite raw sex.
She shuddered and rinsed her hair quickly. She had less than hour to finish showering and drive to the little Italian restaurant in Arlington Heights to meet her girlfriends for dinner. The four of them typically met every few weeks to share hopes, triumphs and defeats, but hadn’t been together as a group since before she’d left for Wyoming.
Would she tell her friends about him? She thought not. Clint Travers had only been a brief happening of little consequence.
Toweling dry, Cassie blushed as she remembered teeth marks on each breast where the cowboy had marked his claim. She vibrated remembering lifting them, imploring him to take more. She grimaced. Maybe he had been more than a little consequence.
She tossed the towel aside and slipped on a light blue blouse and black shorts. As she left, Cassie tied her hair in a ponytail, poking it out the back of her white Wyoming Downs cap.
Her friends were seated by the time she arrived at Regalios. That was rare. She was typically punctual, if not early. After the waiter filled the water glasses and took their drink orders, the questions began in earnest.
“Tell us all about it, Cass. How was the wild, wild West? Did you meet any cowboys?” Traci asked, batting her dark eyelashes.
Cassie took a deep breath and looked around conspiratorially before whispering, “Well, it was really quite tame. I only saw six gunfights and two knife fights. Tame compared to Chicago.” She smiled and leaned back in her chair. “It was a good trip. Cassie’s Hope won her race easily. Now we cross our fingers that she can do the same here.”
“What was Evanston, Wyoming like?” Susan asked. “I looked it up on the map. It looked pretty remote.”
“Small town, USA, isn’t much different in the west than it is in the mid-west. Not much happening. Good, decent folk. Country western, bluegrass, cowboy poetry on Friday night. A rodeo. And of course the track. And not far away was Bridger, the site of Fort Bridger from rendezvous days. That was interesting.”
“Ladies, are you ready to order?” asked the waiter, his smile disarming.
No sooner than he was out of earshot, Ashton pointed her dinner knife at Cassie as if preparing for the kill. “Now girl,” she intoned, “tell us about the man, about the lover.”
“What?” Cassie gasped, at her ebony skinned friend who at times seemed far too clairvoyant.
All three women leaned in intently awaiting a response
“I said, tell us about the lover,” Ashton reiterated. “The guy who put color back in your cheeks and a distant look in your eyes. Don’t try to deny it. We know what we’re looking at with envy—that’s a well loved woman. Who is he?”
Cassie blushed. She groaned. Nodding her head, she told them of Clint Travers—her nemesis and one night lover. She concluded her story. “So you see—it was fine, but it’s history.”
“Fine!” Ashton squeaked. The half dozen bracelets she wore jangled as if they too did not believe. “You had some steamy sex with a hunk of a man. And that’s history? Why?”
“I’m here, and he’s there,” she said, too quickly, rolling her napkin into a tight ball. Then glancing around the table at her stunned friends, she began to relax a little. If she wasn’t so irritated with them, the picture they made would actually be comical. Ashton with her large gold hoop earrings swinging wildly, Traci with her reserved trial lawyer fixed stare, and Susan—open mouthed Susan.
With a tiny smile, Cassie reached for her glass of water, “It was just a summer chance encounter. I’m glad it happened. Now it’s over. That’s all there is. End of story.”
“You did it in a horse stall,” Susan squeaked, shaking her head in disgust. “That must’ve been gross.”
Cassie chuckled. “It may have been a lot of things, but gross wasn’t one of them.”
“Did they blow up all the bridges and airports between here and Utah? I hadn’t heard if they did,” Traci said dryly. “If he’s as phenomenal as he sounds, why did you throw him back in the deep blue sea, or maybe I should say, leave him to dry up in the desert?”
“I already told you.” Cassie lowered her voice trying not to draw attention to their table. “It was just good old fashioned sex. No expectations. No more, no less.”
“Well, I for one think you made the right decision to dump him,” Susan claimed, sitting straight, extending her already tall frame. “You don’t know a thing about him, really.”
“I know more than that he’s well hung, if that’s what you mean.”
“You can go back any time, honey,” Ashton whispered, placing her hand over Cassie’s. “Your head may think whatever happened in Wyoming wasn’t much but some good fucking. And maybe that’s what you intended it to be, but your heart isn’t buying any of that shit.”
“Ashton,” Susan complained, pursing her lips.
Holding up her hand to ward off criticism, the striking black woman continued, “What are you gonna do about him? It’s gonna eat you up, if you let it.”
Cassie shook her head, squeezing back tears. “Nothing,” she sighed. “I’m going to do nothing. I’m a big city girl and he’s…he’s a man of the country.”
“Hmm,” Ashton replied pensively. “Like the city and country have never mixed before. Well, we can see you’ve had enough of our interrogation for now. Let’s change the subject, ladies.”
Cassie jutted out her chin. “So tell me, how are the Cubs doing?”
- o -
The phone rang shrilly in the small, drab walk-up. A brown sofa, two stuffed chairs, and a TV filled the living room. Pictures of horses and jockeys taken in the winner’s circle covered the walls like wall paper. Several included an old friend, Tug O’Hanlon.
“Hello.”
“Louie?”
“Yeah.”
“Let her go this time. We’ll let the old guy win one. It’ll make the loss in the Capitol Stakes even more bitter. Got it? Don’t do a damn thing. Let the horse run its race.
“I got it.”
“Too bad he’s got Cassie training for him. He could’ve gone with others, even you.”
“Yeah.
“Saw your granddaughter graduated from U of I.”
“Yeah. She’s good.”
“How many more coming up?”
“Plenty.”
“That’s good. You let me know when their tuition is due.”
“You can count on that.”
“Good-bye, Louie.”
Louie Picard hung up the phone. Would bygones ever be bygones? Like many at the track, Tug O’Hanlon had his enemies. Most got even and went on with their lives.
Shaking his head, Louie had to admit he’d been suckered in at first. And then betraying his friend had become routine. Now his family depended on the financial support. No one before in his family had ever gone to college. He was proud that his kids had gone, and now his grandkids were going.
He’d get a call every time Tug had a horse that looked like a strong contender for stakes racing. He might have a claimer win five races in row. No call came. But on those rare occasions when he had a horse that looked like the possible big horse, the calls started up again until that horse faded.
And now there was the promising filly Tug’s daughter trained. Picard reached for a beer sitting on the end table and stared at the images flickering on the TV. Screwing up Cassie’s dreams left a bad taste in his mouth. He’d known her since she was born.
He’d helped Tug raise Cassie after her mother left. Cassie had been one of his best exercise riders. She’d done well for herself, real well. But she was now training a horse that had tons of promise. He’d wondered if he’d get the call this time. Tug wasn’t doing the training; Cassie was. The call had come anyway. At least he’d be able to enjoy tomorrow’s race. He was looking forward to seeing how the filly would run without the drugs slowing her down.
It was a warm, cloudless Saturday morning, the day of Hope’s first race since arriving back from Wyoming. Cassie sat back on her heels, running her fingers up and down the filly’s legs, feeling for heat or any sign of puffiness. There was none. Hope appeared fresh and ready. Cassie smiled, yet was unable to keep the butterflies in her stomach from tumbling about. Would her dad’s strategy actually go as he predicted? She wasn’t so certain about the altitude edge. Had she stayed long enough?
“Well, if it’s not the Chicago cowgirl returned.”
Cassie cringed at the sound of Ed Harrington’s biting sarcasm. She stood up and nodded a curt greeting. “I’m back, and we’re ready to race.”
“She does look more eager than I’ve ever seen her. Maybe your old man’s onto something. I assume she won out in the boonies without difficulty.”
“No problem—she won by te
n lengths.”
“Today will be different,” he said flatly. “You’re back in the big leagues.”
“Right,” Cassie replied warily. Her stomach cramped. She knew it could be very different.
Running his hand along the top of Hope’s back, Harrington confided, “Say, if she wins, I’d like to help you celebrate by taking you out for a nice dinner.”
Alarm bells rang in Cassie’s head. Conversation with the man had always been punctuated with sexual innuendo, but she hadn’t really thought he was seriously interested in her. Men! One fling for the summer was enough. One fling with a horse trainer was one too many.
“No thanks,” she murmured. “I’ll need to get back to Dad shortly after the race, win or lose.”
“Some other time, then,” Harrington replied with an air of cockiness.
Later that afternoon, Cassie watched Hope prove Tug O’Hanlon to be some kind of a horseman’s wizard. The filly won her allowance race without much trouble. Just as she had in Wyoming, she held the lead from start to finish, winning by two lengths.
Cassie’s spirits were sky high while cooling down her horse after the race. Even Harrington’s congratulatory buss on the cheek outside the winner’s circle hadn’t bothered her. All was well. She was proud of what they’d accomplished. Hope had a promising future. Her dad would be ecstatic and could soon look for another trainer to take over Hope’s management as well as the rest of his small string of horses. And she, Cassie O’Hanlon, would be able to get on with her life. She looked forward to the comfort of her high rise apartment and to the challenges of her regular day job at the group home.
Wyoming seemed a long way away.
Would she miss the thrill of competition and the sweat of horses? Shake that nagging thought.
“Liked what I saw on the track this afternoon.”
Harrington always turned up, like a lost penny. “Thanks,” she replied evenly. “She ran a good race all right.”
Cassie's Hope (Riders Up) Page 5
