Stud Farm: The Delancey Brothers

by Joanna Blake

  The insufferable man calmly sipped his coffee and perused the menu as if I hadn't just spoken. As if I wasn't even here!

  I was so distracted I'd forgotten to order a drink. The waitress came back. I noticed she was being overly friendly. In fact, she was staring at Clint like she was starving and he was a steak.

  I made a little hmmff sound as he smiled at her politely. He was being perfectly nice to her, but to me he acted like a caveman!

  "What will the lady be having?"

  "I'll have an iced tea-"

  Clint interupted immediately.

  "Unsweetened."

  I glared at him but kept ordering. I didn't want to argue in front of the waitress. My mama didn't raise me to be rude to servers, that was certain.

  He said nothing about my spinach salad with fresh lemon instead of dressing. But when I tried to order a milkshake he shook his head and simply said 'no.'

  I was stewing as he placed his order, biting my tongue until the waitress sauntered off with an exaggerated wiggle in her hips. I was about to roll my eyes when I noticed that Clint wasn't looking at her obvious display of feminine wiles.

  He was looking at me with his eyebrows raised.

  "Well?"

  "Well, what?"

  "Come on, wildcat. Out with it."

  I grit my teeth.

  "Out with what?"

  He smiled as if I'd said something funny and shook his head.

  "You are practically giving off steam you are so angry. Spit it out. It's not good for a rider to hold on to emotions. The animal can sense it and-"

  "I never take my emotions into the ring."

  He leaned back and nodded.

  "Okay then. That's real good. I guess we can skip that lesson."

  "We can skip all of them for all I care!"

  I started to stand but he gripped my arm.

  "Sit down. JJ went to a lot of trouble to hire me. I signed a contract and everything."

  "He's paying you? With my money?"

  Clint was having a grand old time. He smothered a laugh as the waitress came back, setting down my iced tea. She asked him again if he wanted 'anything else.'

  This time I did roll my eyes.

  Clint barely glanced at her, telling her that he was fine just as he was. He did ask her to turn down the AC. He smiled at me lazily.

  "My companion is a bit damp."

  I waited until the waitress was gone. I couldn't help but check to see if he looked at her bottom. He'd looked at mine enough times in the half day I'd known him!

  But, oddly enough, he didn't even look once.

  "What makes you think you have a right to dictate what I can eat?"

  "You're an athlete. I'm your trainer. End of story."

  I stared at him, my mouth opened and shutting as I tried to think of what to say.

  "Are you saying I'm fat?"

  "Hell no, woman I'm not blind."

  I was slightly mollified by that.

  "Well then, I will kindly ask you to mind your business. I am a grown woman after all."

  He shook his head.

  "No darlin', you're half grown."

  "What the hell does that mean?"

  He laughed at me like I was a puppy chasing it's own tail. It was clear he thought I was adorably harmless. That just made me madder.

  "Such language."

  He leaned back in his seat and observed me.

  "You might be… physically mature. But you have a lot of work to do up here."

  He tapped my head softly. Then he brushed my hair back from my face and gripped my chin. He turned my face slightly, looking me over.

  "But you've got loads of potential."

  He smiled as our food was served.

  "I'd even say you were a sure thing."

  Chapter Three

  Clint

  The cicadas were humming outside while I lay down on my bed. I'd spent most of the night in the rocking chair on the front porch, deep in thought.

  Deep crap was more like it.

  Hell, I was still in deep.

  I had one big mambajamba of a problem on my hands.

  Pheonyx Delancey. Her attitude. And my overwhelming attraction to her.

  I was like a damn stallion who scented a mare. Except I wasn't looking for a woman. I was working. I had a reputation to uphold. I couldn't go chasing her around the paddock, even if she was the finest filly I'd ever laid eyes on.

  A pain in the ass, but a damn fine woman.

  I'd noticed how she'd held her tongue at lunch. Well, kind of. As soon as I mentioned her manners, she'd clammed right up.

  I smiled to myself, remembering how she'd stewed there, wearing wet jeans. Everyone knew wet jeans were uncomfortable as all get out. But I'd needed to gain the upper hand if this was going to work.

  I wanted her to remember today. Every time she felt like getting uppity, she'd remember the clammy feel of those jeans on her bottom. Even just thinking about those curves made my John Thomas sit up and take notice.

  She'd looked fine as hell, soaking wet or not.

  It was a good thing I'd had a towel in my car.

  Oh yes, I was going to tame Pheonyx Delancey and get her to the championship. Once she won that prize, I'd decide whether or not to act on my primal instincts. I just had to make it through the season without pouncing on her like a dog with a juicy steak. It wasn't going to be easy, but I was a grown man. I had discipline.

  I had principles.

  I also had a raging hard on with Pheonyx Delancey's name written all over it. All ten inches of it. I sighed, realizing I was just going to have to grin and bear it.

  For now, I had work to do.

  I was using the technique I'd read about. The sort some wild animal trainers subscribed to.

  Ignoring her bad behavior, reward the good.

  Hell, I could think of about fifty ways I'd like to reward her.

  Dang, just like that my mind was back in the gutter.

  But as long as I could stick to the plan, I'd have her eating out of the palm of my hand. She'd been quiet and docile by the end of the meal, eating what I told her to, sitting up straight, thanking the waitress.

  I was proud of what we'd accomplished already.

  I was more ready to take her on in the arena. I couldn't let myself think of anything else past that. The way the sun shone on her hair. The way her eyes flashed when I annoyed her.

  The way her body moved with a feline grace that was the most naturally seductive thing I'd seen in my life…

  I moaned, realizing I was doing it again. My mind just seemed to wander back to her, like a chicken coming home to roost. If I had permanently sore balls or calluses from dealing with it on my own, then so be it. I was a professional dammit.

  I was not here to seduce a prickly, ornery, sexy as all get out little wildcat.

  It was a long night, with my mind going a million miles an hour. I couldn't stop thinking about her. How she'd pissed me off already. Or how bad I wanted her.

  I was up early in the morning, showered and shaved and on my way to the stables with a thermos of coffee and my lawn chair. Sleep or no sleep, I needed my wits about me.

  Today, I was going to tame a wild thing.

  Pheonyx

  "Lift! Lift! From your core!"

  I groaned, sweat pricking my upper lip. I was doing basic exercises over and over again, while Clint barked orders at me. Beginner stuff. Kid's stuff, really. He yelled, and I drilled. For hours and hours and hours.

  Just like we had every day this week.

  He was mostly focused on my stomach for some reason. I pulled my belly button towards my spine like he told me to. He seemed to notice if I lost focus on my form for even a second.

  He was that persnickety about the way I held my body.

  The man was cruel. Unrelenting. And starting to get on my nerves.

  I snorted to myself.

  'Starting to get on my nerves' was an understatement.

  He was already there,
firmly under my skin. And had been since the moment I laid eyes on him. Or rather, since the first time I caught him laying eyes on me.

  Clint was leaned casually against the fence, just like he had the first day I met him. But he was not in the sun. In fact, he had an ice cold drink in his hand. And a lawn chair a few feet back.

  Sometimes, he sat in it to do his shouting.

  Mostly though, he shouted instructions and criticisms from the fence. Every now and then though, he said 'good form' or 'that's it, keep going' or 'good girl', which should have made me angry. It did the first time. But it also made me walk tall for hours after.

  I didn't need his damn approval! I knew that. But it didn't change the fact that I was starting to want it.

  Crave it, really.

  He looked utterly relaxed as my butt chaffed against the saddle. I wasn't used to staying in the seat for this long. I was a trick rider dammit.

  I wanted to swoop and soar! I wanted to move!

  "Okay Red, take five."

  Red! The most unoriginal nickname ever! I hated all of his terms of endearment. Along with 'Darlin' and 'Hellcat'. I slid off Apollo, leading him over to a stablehand. Clint offered me a drink of water, his gorgeous blue eyes crinkling as he looked me over.

  I took the water, tipping back my head to gulp it down. I was thirsty as hell. But the truth was I didn't mind being looked over like horsemeat. Not anymore.

  Truth be told, I'd done quite a bit of looking him over too this past week. He looked like an old school movie star, not a cowboy. But he was the real deal.

  Tall, handsome, and too rough around the edges for Hollywood. I shivered, remembering how his hands felt when he was correcting my form. Big, warm and calloused. Strong.

  The way a man's hands should be.

  I spent a few nights wondering how they'd feel against my skin. Particularly, my more sensitive places. Of course, I had no idea how a man's hands felt. Or anything else.

  I'd never had the time or inclination to let anyone tumble me. Not until now. It irked me that the first man I felt any interest in, only wanted the prize money JJ had promised him if I placed top three in Nationals.

  Yep, I wanted Clint McRae. Not that I'd ever tell him that. He'd probably laugh and tell me to leave my schoolgirl crush in the stables.

  Beep beep beep.

  I looked around.

  "Is that my phone?"

  Clint had a strict rule about my phone. First thing in the morning, he'd take it. He'd let me have it at lunch and that was it until the end of the day. It was funny how I didn't miss it after the first week. I'd even forgotten to ask for it back a couple times.

  "Damn thing keeps beeping. I don't know why you don't leave it at home-"

  I blanched, realizing I had people coming. People with cameras. I touched my cheek, knowing I was flushed red and splotchy.

  The man had me so tied up in knots I'd forgotten a professional obligation. I shook my head. It was a good thing I'd taken to shaving and primping a bit more in the mornings!

  "Oh lord- I forgot!"

  He grabbed my arm as I ran for the facilities.

  "Where are you going, hellcat?"

  "I need to freshen up."

  "Fine."

  "Fine!"

  I ran to my car to grab my bag. Thankfully, I'd stashed the outfit they wanted me to wear in the back last week. My sponsors liked me to do little publicity stunts and photo shoots all the time.

  This time, it was a clothing line.

  Except, I wasn't going to be wearing much clothing.

  When I came out, they were already there. Clint was watching them set up with a frown. And then he saw me.

  My stomach did a little back flip when I saw the look on his face.

  He went from shock, to looking like he was drooling. The man's mouth was open. His eyes blazed fire across the stable yard.

  I ignored him, savoring the look of pure male appreciation on his face. I put a little extra strut in my step as I walked across the yard. Of course, by the time I got closer he was frowning again.

  I sighed. At least he looked handsome with a frown. He looked handsome no matter what he did. He did smile now and then. I wondered if I'd ever see him smile in real happiness, instead of looking like a damn shark about to eat a mackerel.

  "What the hell are you wearing?"

  I looked down at myself and back up at him.

  "A bikini, silly."

  "You are not getting on that horse in that getup."

  I cocked my head, smiling at him.

  "You're right. I'm going to wash the horse."

  His jaw dropped. Literally dropped. Clint looked as shocked as a Sunday School teacher in a brothel. Good. The blasted man was too calm by half. I tossed my hair as I walked away. I realized I liked making him uncomfortable.

  "We have to train."

  I shook my head.

  "No Clint. Today, for just a few hours, I have to work."

  Chapter Four

  Clint

  It was bad enough that I had to watch her bouncing around on a horse all day, wondering what she looked like in the altogether. But now- by God- now I didn't have to wonder anymore.

  The woman was wearing a Goddamn bikini on that insane body of hers. I felt like I was about to catch fire. I didn't know where to look. I tried to keep my eyes on her boots, but they kept travelling up those long toned legs of hers…

  To make it even worse, the damn bikini was red.

  It was like waving a red flag at a bull. An extremely frustrated bull who'd had just about enough temptation. This was more than I could take.

  Course, I couldn't exactly run off and jump in a cold shower either. I was stuck here, waiting to resume training for the rest of the afternoon.

  I sat there in my lawn chair, trying not to stare at the show. Lord knows every man in the entire stable was outside, tongues hanging out. I didn't blame them, but I hoped I didn't look quite so foolish.

  Pheonyx looked like pornography in motion. I tried closing my eyes but the image was branded there, all tawny skin and lush curves.

  I literally could not shake it.

  Shake her.

  I moaned, adjusting myself. The woman was going to kill me. But I had a strange feeling I'd be smiling if she did.

  Smiling, with a big ole hard on to boot.

  She was chatting with the marketing people. Apparently, they liked to do guerilla style shoots a couple times a month for their social media and other viral marketing.

  Having an authentic cowgirl in a bikini was a pretty brilliant idea actually. Especially one that looked like Pheonyx.

  Who was I kidding?

  No one looked like Pheonyx.

  She looked better than those air brushed swimsuit models in a magazine! I shook my head, resting it in my hands. I gave into temptation, pulling my brim low so she didn't catch my eye.

  But I was done trying to fight the urge to look my fill.

  If the woman was going to torture me, I was going to memorize every damn curve. I had a feeling it would come in handy on a cold night…

  They started the shoot and I could not look away. Not even to blink. She was wearing a tiny bikini, a straw cowboy hat and fancy boots. She started washing the horse and I nearly spit out my iced tea as the soapy water started sliding over her body.

  I could imagine myself over there, my hands holding the sponge. Except instead of washing the horse, I'd be washing her.

  Just when I thought I was going to bust a nut right there, it got worse.

  Much, much worse.

  They turned her and the horse so that she was looking over her shoulder. Her perfect ass was on full display from this angle, as she bent forward and playfully washed the horse. I swallowed hard as suds slid down over the gorgeous round globes and down her thighs.

  She smiled at the camera. Then she looked at me, a teasing smile on her face. She knew what she was doing to me, I realized. And she was loving it.

  But not to torture me. Or jus
t to do her job as a spokeswoman. No, she had a darker purpose.

  A shock ran through me as our eyes locked.

  I was caught. Trapped. She'd seen the lust in my eyes, I knew it. But I was shocked as hell when I saw it directed right back at me.

  Oh no.

  Oh hell no.

  That feeling in my gut. It was reflected right back at me in her eyes. It hit me like a sucker punch to the gut.

  That was it. I knew I was done for.

  It was bad enough with me lusting over her every minute of the day. The season was just getting started. I knew I'd be taking cold showers until the competition in December.

  Oh yeah, I wanted her. Bad. Worse than I'd ever wanted a damn thing in my life. By far.

  I would resist her as long as I could. Eventually, I expected I'd make an ass of myself. I'd already accepted that was going to happen. She'd reject me for being too old and cranky. I would go away and lick my wounds and try to forget her.

  That's how it was supposed to happen.

  But if Pheonyx Delancey wanted me back, I didn't stand a chance in hell.

  Pheonyx

  Hot blue eyes stared at me. Into me. I felt branded. Seared by all that fire. I never knew blue could hold so much heat.

  I couldn't move. I felt like a rabbit in a snare, locking eyes with a wolf. I blinked and it was over, leaving me feeling weak and limp, like overcooked pasta.

  Actually, my pasta was always overcooked. Or under. I was a terrible cook.

  I was trying to calm myself down when Clint jumped up from his lawn chair like a Jack-in-the-box. I half expected to see a rattlesnake under his chair.

  Instead, he ran off with his cowboy hat held over his lap.

  That was… interesting.

  I shook my head and smiled at the camera. I had a job to do. And I had a sudden inclination that I'd just witnessed Clint McRae losing his cool.

  Because of little ole me.

  Hmmm… seems this was a two way street after all. He wanted me. Bad.

  More than I'd thought. My impression was that he saw me as a silly little girl. Sure, he'd given me a few lingering looks, but all men did.

  Everyone I wasn't related too anyway.