Glowering, Lars walks backward.
“How do I do this?” I ask.
From a few feet away, Lars explains how to place a halter around a horse’s head. Fortunately, the lead rope is already attached, so I exclude that step and pull the halter up behind Thunder’s ears. To my surprise, it seems as if the stallion has no problem being handled.
“This makes no sense,” Lars grumbles. “He used to be a racehorse so he should let anyone handle him.”
“Why don’t you just leave the halter on him when he’s in the pasture?” I suggest. “I’m pretty sure that’s what they do in movies.”
He shakes his head and rubs the back of his neck. “We’ve tried every type of halter out there and he always manages to get them off.”
I pet Thunder’s face and smile at him. “He seems to be doing fine with me. I can’t understand why you have such a hard time with him,” I deliberately gloat.
“Well, if he’s so cooperative with you, why don’t you try to lead him?” he asks snidely.
Thunder takes a step back when I take his lead, but I pat his cheek gently and give a small tug on his lead rope. To my delight, he follows obediently.
Lars groans and marches off into the barn while I laugh out loud.
When we make it to his stall, I look at the narrow entrance with confusion. How am I supposed to get him inside without going in first?
“Lead him in and turn so that you’re beside the door. Then take off the halter and the lead rope,” Lars explains.
I do exactly as he instructs and exit the stall. Thunder neighs happily and I smile up at Lars.
Lars looks down at me, his mouth tilted up on one side. “Do you realize what you’ve done?”
I shake my head, my body filling with a warm glow of happiness.
“Nobody here has been able to tame him yet. We were going to have to put him down if he wouldn’t cooperate. You just saved that horse.”
I smile and rub my hands together. “All in a day’s work,” I say with a broad, happy smile.
There is reluctant admiration in his eyes. “So, are you ready to start your riding lessons?” he asks.
“Yes,” I say with a great grin, and for the first time since meeting him, he gives me a genuine smile. It lights up his whole face.
Ohh…totally sexy!
There is a moment of awkward silence then he moves toward one of the stalls.
“We’ll start with mounting Misty,” he says, guiding a brown mare in my direction. I bounce on my toes with excitement and reach a hand toward the animal, but it is so placid it barely acknowledges my presence.
“How difficult is this part?” I ask, thinking back to all the horse movies I watched as a child.
“It’s the easiest thing I’ll be teaching you. How’s your balance?”
“Balance? Just fine,” I lie. Balance is not something that comes easily to me. I had more evidence of my lack of it when I was trying to walk in Tamara’s four-inch heels.
“Good. That will make this much easier,” he says.
I stand back as Lars ties the horse’s lead rope to a post and lays a blanket on the horse's back before tossing a saddle over it. He nudges the horse’s front hoof forward and begins connecting the straps. He turns to me and raises an eyebrow.
“What?” I ask.
“You have to take care of your horse for a month. You may want to know how to do this.”
I take a few small steps in his direction until I’m so close to him I can feel the heat coming from his body. The horse snorts and I lay my hand on its back instinctively. Lars grabs my wrist with his gloved hand and I stare at how big and powerful it looks compared to mine.
He places the strap in my hand. “Tie the back cinch to the one on the other side,” he instructs. He releases my wrist and it feels suddenly strange and empty.
I do as he asks.
“Make sure that it's tight. We don’t want the saddle to flip halfway through our lesson.”
I tighten it slightly more.
He frowns. “Tighter.”
“I don’t want to hurt her,” I protest.
Lars laughs, takes the strap, and pulls it harder than I would have ever done. “You won’t hurt her. She’s our training horse. She's used to being saddled. Besides, it is almost impossible to make the straps too snug, somehow it always ends up being too loose after a while.”
He finishes tightening the cinches—as he calls them—and I observe carefully, taking mental notes of the process and the way his muscles tighten beneath his shirt with every twitch of his body. When he lifts his arms to put the halter on the horse, his shirt catches on the saddle and the glowing ripped muscles of his abdomen show. I can’t help but stare at them in amazement. How does someone look this magnificent and be so totally unaware of their own beauty?
“Tamara?” It takes me a moment to realize that he’s speaking to me.
“Yeah,” I respond in a dreamy tone. My eyes travel slowly upward. That dip in his throat is just begging to be licked. Then my eyes collide with his and there is a knowing look in his. Shit! My face burns with shame. This is so not like me. Why am I behaving like some sex-starved nympho? I clear my throat and stand a little straighter. “I’m ready to begin,” I squeak.
“I’m sure you are,” he retorts with a smirk.
“Are we going to start? I’m getting sick of standing in here and smelling the horses,” I say rudely. The barn does hold the undeniable stench of animals, but I don’t mind. I just need an excuse to stop this awkward moment where I’ve stupidly revealed my attraction.
Lars’ jaw hardens and his eyes become flinty.
I try to pretend that I don’t care that he has seen me check him out. I’m not Cass after all—I’m Tamara. And Tamara wouldn’t blush at a handsome cowboy. She would be crude and, if she liked him, probably come onto him. God, the way she bounced on the red dick of that blond man.
Untying the horse’s lead rope from the door, Lars guides Misty out of the barn. We walk along the road and I sneak a look at his profile. It looks like it has been carved out of stone. He hates me, but it doesn’t matter. He can never know who I am so I mustn’t stop antagonizing him, or I’ll end up crushing hard and making a complete fool of myself.
We approach a small horse ring and my heart suddenly starts pounding. In the barn with all the other bigger horses, Misty seemed smaller, but out here on her own, she suddenly seems so high off the ground. Doubt fills me. Will I be able to do this? What if I fall off the horse and can’t get back on? What if I am unable to finish this project? Why did I think I’d be able to do this?
“I don’t know about this,” I mumble, stopping cold in my tracks.
Lars turns to face me. “It’s not hard. Come on. You can do it,” he encourages softly.
“I don’t know,” I whine. Amazing, but after just one day, complaining has become almost second nature. If my father could hear me now he’d be shocked.
“What are you talking about? You were so excited about learning to ride just a moment ago.”
I gulp and shake my head. “I’ll fall and break my neck. I won’t be able to stay on the horse. I lied before. My balance is awful. I’m the clumsiest person I know,” I admit.
His lips quirk up with amusement. “Tamara,” he croons, and I stare at him with surprise. He’s always been so gruff and stern with me I would never have guessed he could be so gentle. “I’ve taught children in wheelchairs and kids with other physical handicaps to ride horses. For a while, we even used to have a summer program for autistic children. You will do great as long as you listen to me.” He looks deep into my eyes and the gentle simplicity in his face makes my breath hitch. Suddenly, I know without a doubt that I can trust this man with my life.
“I believe you,” I whisper.
Chapter 14
Cass
He doesn’t take his eyes off mine and something so animalistic and feral flows between us that our surroundings fade out of existence. It is only me and
him. We’re alone and I have no interest in moving. Lars takes a step forward until we are chest to chest, breathing the same throbbing air.
What the heck am I doing?
I’m here for a purpose and it’s not to flirt with the help. I know that I should step away, and my brain wills me to do so, but my body wants something different. It feels almost as if he is the strongest magnet known to man and I’m a tiny sliver of metal.
Suddenly, the expression on Lar’s face changes. He breaks eye contact and takes a step back. The world around me zooms back into focus, and I have to hurriedly stumble onto the grass edging the gravel road to avoid an approaching diesel truck. It sounds like it has a busted muffler. How on earth did I not hear it coming from a mile away?
The man driving it gawks at me while simultaneously waving at Lars and calling out a greeting. His accent is too thick for me to catch, but Lars raises his hand in an answering wave.
Feeling confused and shaken, I follow Lars into the ring. He stops the horse and stands still for a moment before turning to face me.
“Ready?” he asks, his face now devoid of all expression.
I nod nervously. Why do I have a feeling this will not turn out the way I’d hoped?
“Always start by facing the horse,” he instructs.
I move to obey.
“Then hold both reins in your left hand and gather them with a tuft of mane, tight enough to prevent the horse from wandering off, but not tight enough to make it go backward. Mount it from the left side. Misty won’t mind which side you mount her from, but most horses are adamant about the left side. It’s a habit for them and anything else is unusual. You may be in charge most of the time, but if you do something a horse doesn’t like, they’ll take control, and that’s when you get hurt.”
I clasp my hands nervously. “Don’t I need a mounting block or something?”
He shakes his head. “Just trust me.”
“Okay.”
“Facing the rear of the horse, take the stirrup in your right hand and turn it clockwise toward you. This way, you won’t end up with the leather twisted under your leg once you’re seated. Once you’ve done that, place your left foot in it so that the ball of your foot rests on the bottom of the stirrup. Be careful at this stage not to kick or poke the horse with your foot, or it will start walking forward. Got it?”
I nod nervously.
“Put your right hand on the horn, but don’t try to pull yourself up with your arm. Just use it to balance yourself. Rely on the power in your right leg to spring up then swing it over the back of the horse while moving your right hand forward like this,” he says, demonstrating the movement of grasping the reins. “Just make sure to raise your leg high enough. You don’t want to kick the horse or hit your leg on the saddle.”
“Okay.”
“At that point, all there is left to do is gently sit in the saddle. Go on. Give it a try,” he says. Both his voice and his manner are cool and purely professional.
As confidently as I can, I make my way to Misty’s left. Fortunately, she is calm and excellent at remaining still. I place my right foot in the stirrup and find it almost impossible to lift myself clear off the ground.
Lars clears his throat.
“What?” I ask, irritated.
“Left foot.”
I switch feet and use the handle sticking out of the saddle—the one Lars called a horn—to pull myself upward with my right hand.
“Do a couple of light springs to gain momentum.”
I do as he says and I’m almost upright when Misty decides to rearrange herself. With a frightened shriek, I fall back to the ground, thankfully, on my feet.
“Again,” Lars say.
I give him a hard, unfriendly look. Using all the strength in my right leg, I propel myself upward, but of course, before I can drape myself properly over her, she readjusts herself again. This time, though, I’m ready for her. Even though the muscles of my arms are screaming, I grab the horn tightly with both hands. I’m hanging on for dear life, but for the first time in my life, I’m on a horse. I’m actually on a horse.
“I’m up,” I cry excitedly, looking over the edge of the tall animal. Oh, my God. I am so high up. And this is the height I have to fall off…I don’t even want to think of that.
“Damn, that was a hell of a lot quicker than I thought it would be,” Lars admits, nodding his head approvingly. “Now get off.”
Misty moves, making me sway dangerously.
“How?” I ask.
Lars stands so his chest is pressed against my leg. I lean down to him, hoping he is going to help me get down, but he has no intention of helping me at all.
“First, make sure the horse has stopped moving. Grip the reins, remove both your feet from the stirrups, then lean forward and use the momentum of your right foot to swing off and land on the ground,” he orders.
White-knuckling the reins, I lean forward and swing my leg over the horse. The last thing I expect is for my left foot to get tangled in the stirrup. “Lars,” I scream.
His arms wrap around my waist as he effortlessly pulls me backward. Immediately, my mind reels at his touch, and I am suddenly acutely aware of all his hard muscles pressing into my body.
“Don’t panic,” he says softly.
“I doubt you’d be saying that if you were the one hanging upside down like some demented bat,” I huff.
“You’re not hanging upside down,” he says coolly, but I swear I can see more than a glint of amusement lurking in his eyes.
“Don’t you dare laugh at me,” I cry.
“Never,” he says, and easily shifts all my weight to one arm. His unoccupied hand wraps around my ankle. His clasp is sure and gentle, but it doesn’t loosen my foot and I hiss.
“How much longer?” I mumble and wrap my arms around his neck to take some of my weight out of his arm. Only, once I lift myself, I realize that he isn’t straining at all. He is juggling my weight and undoing the stirrup almost effortlessly. And all I have done is effectively maneuver myself into the warm, masculine smelling crook of his neck. Um…since when do I like the smell of sweat? Still, the man has a delicious neck. Tanned and thick. And smooth. And…my breathing goes up a notch.
“Damn it, what did you do?” he mutters as he tries to free the stirrup tangled around my foot.
“How the hell…” he mutters, as he continues to work the twist.
“I can stand on one leg. Put me down,” I demand from my awkward and humiliating position.
“Hang on. I’ve almost got it.”
Seconds later, the stirrup releases my ankle. As I ease down his body, his hands move to my hips. His touch scorches me and I suck in a quick, shallow breath. The second both my feet touch the ground; his hands launch off my body.
“That’s never happened before,” he remarks, his nostrils flaring. There is a dull flush on his cheekbones.
“I think I didn’t remove both my feet from the stirrups,” I confess as I take a distracted step backward and bump into the poor horse. It startles her and she whips her head around. “Sorry, Misty. Sorry,” I whisper, stroking her.
“Right. Get back on,” Lars instructs.
I know I need to keep trying until I get better at mounting, but I don’t want to fall, or get my ankle all twisted up in the stirrup again. “I’m tired. Can we do it tomorrow?”
“Nope,” he says crisply. “It’ll be harder tomorrow. You’ve got to get straight back on or your mind will build this failure up into something bigger than what it is.”
I rub my arm anxiously. “What if I fall off the other side of the horse? You can’t catch me over there, and I could get seriously hurt.”
“Tamara,” he says in a tone I don’t recognize. “You won’t fall.” He brushes past me and effortlessly mounts the horse, not even taking hold of the reins.
I watch him with new admiration.
“Come on,” he urges, extending a hand toward me.
“Uh…don’t I need to know how t
o do this on my own?”
“All in good time,” he says with his hand outstretched toward me.
I’m getting thirty-thousand dollars for this. All I have to do is figure out this first step. You can do this, Cass. Without overthinking it, I grab hold of Lars’ big hand. It curls around mine and he swings me up in front of him. To my surprise, I find my balance without much assistance, and once I’m sitting comfortably—or as comfortably as a person can be on a saddle—Lars scoots into me. My breath catches in my throat.
“While I’m up here, I’m going to teach you a few basics,” he says with an odd inflection in his voice.
I twist my head back to look at him and find his disconcerting gray eyes so near it makes me gulp. They are wiped clean of all expression though. I clear my throat.
“You’re already a step up from the people who ride side-saddle.” He moves forward slightly and his body rubs against mine, causing all kinds of forbidden images to rush into my head. I blush furiously and his eyebrows rise. Now he knows how affected I am.
Flustered and exposed, I lash out. “Let’s finish this lesson already. I’m exhausted after cleaning your entire horse barn and getting a fifteen-minute lunch break for my troubles.”
“Calm down. You’ll get your break when we finish,” Lars grates close to my ear.
His anger is easier to deal with. Saying nothing, I hold onto the horse’s reins, but I don’t need to clench them as tightly as I had earlier. I feel incredibly safe with his powerfully muscled legs wrapped around my outer thighs and his rock-solid chest inches away from my back
“To get the horse to move, lift your legs out and prod the horse’s side, but not forcefully. You’ll spook it.”
I do as he instructs and Misty takes off at a slow canter around the ring. With each step and with Lars’ tight grip on my hips, I lose all my nervousness of slipping and falling off.
“Oh, my God, this is awesome,” I squeal excitedly as we finish our first circle.
Lars says nothing but his hot breath billows on my neck. After a few minutes, he releases his thigh-grip on my hips, but it still doesn’t feel like I’ll fall. I adjust myself so that I lean in with each step Misty takes.
The CEO & I Page 21
