by Ivy Jordan
“Well, there is something wrong. If we don’t figure it out soon, he isn’t gonna make it.”
“I have someone who might be able to help,” I said with a slight smile.
“We already talked to the vet,” he replied.
“She isn’t the vet.”
Charlie’s eyes narrowed, and his lips curled into a smile. “She?” he asked with a smug smile.
I knew my cheeks were burning red, but I shrugged it off as best I could. “Would this ‘she’ be the woman I saw leaving last week?” he asked.
My heart stopped for a moment. “You saw her leave? Did she say anything?” I asked.
“Nope. She looked like she was distressed, and in a hurry.”
“Distressed?” I asked, feeling a sudden surge of guilt rush through my veins.
“I figured it was just another one of your one-night stands,” Charlie said quickly.
“Another one of my one-night stands?” I laughed.
He winked and grabbed a bag of feed before heading to the other stables. I’d had maybe two women out here in the last six months, and neither had stayed the night. I didn’t like Charlie calling Charlotte a one-night stand, even though I had done so myself when talking to Tracy earlier that day.
“So, you like this one?” Charlie asked.
I shrugged, not willing to divulge my feelings to him, or to myself, for that matter.
I went into the house and sat down on the couch where Charlotte and I had first made love. The sweet scent of her perfume still lingered in the room, as if she’d never left. I picked up my phone, started to write a text, and then decided to just call her.
It rang once, twice, and then a third time. My palms sweat as I readied myself to leave a voice mail. “Hello,” her sweet voice answered, echoing through the other end of my phone.
“Good morning, darlin’,” I said.
A silence fell over the phone. “Are you there?” I asked.
“Yes,” she said in a soft, subdued tone.
“I’m sorry I didn’t call sooner,” I said, my voice pleading.
“It’s okay. I’ve been busy here, too,” she said.
I couldn’t tell if she was angry or not. Her voice was sweet, and I wasn’t certain I’d be able to hear any anger within in even if she was fuming inside. “I was wondering if you’d like to go horseback riding this afternoon?” I asked.
Another silent pause.
I shifted in my seat, readjusted my hand on my phone, and tried to calm myself with a deep breath.
“That sounds like fun,” she finally replied.
“Great. You wanna come by about two o’clock and I’ll make us dinner after our ride?”
“I’ll see you then,” she said, and then hung up.
I set the phone down, fell back against the soft cushion, and wondered if I was making the right decision by calling her. What if she didn’t really want more than a one-night stand? What if she did?
Chapter Five
Charlotte
I’d just got off the phone with Tracy when Owen called. I found it a little strange that she just finished telling me she had a feeling he’d be calling. It’d been over a week, and nothing. He’d left me in his bed alone after our night together, probably too scared to face me. It was romantic, sweet, and so different than with any other man. I thought for certain there had been a spark there, something that we’d both felt. But, when you wake up in an empty bed after a night like that, it’s pretty obvious that only one person had felt the earth move.
His voice was so deep, so seductive; it oozed like honey from his lips when he spoke. I could picture him on the other end of the phone, smiling and letting his tongue glide across his full lips as he waited for me to respond.
Had Tracy put him up to it? She could be pretty pushy, and even a little scary sometimes. Maybe she’d got to him. It just seemed a little strange to me that she had just got back into town, and then Owen suddenly called after a week of silence.
Still, I was excited to see him. My heart raced as I dug through my closet for something to wear.
I found a pair of jeans that made my ass look nice, and grabbed a t-shirt to throw on. I shaved, plucked, but forwent the rest of the ritual of trying to be super sexy. I’d done all that before, and even though it got me laid, it still got me left alone, and not called for a week.
My nerves were getting out of control as the time for me to leave drew closer. I thought about calling Tracy, just flat-out asking her if she put Owen up to this, but a part of me was afraid she’d say yes. If she did say yes, I knew I wouldn’t go—I was too stubborn. I knew that, so I didn’t call her. Just for now, I wanted to let myself believe he’d called because he wanted to. If there had been any other reason, I’d find out soon enough.
I pulled up to Owen’s ranch and parked beside his blue pickup. The silver-haired man I’d seen the morning I left was walking toward a small red truck. He lifted his hand and waved to me. I waved back, but felt an instant surge of embarrassment flowing through my veins. Yeah, that was me, walk-of-shame girl, and here I am again, back for more.
“Charlotte,” Owen called out my name as he opened his front door. He wore his cowboy boots, the kind that were worn from hard work, not the kind fake cowboys wore that were shiny and new. His jeans were tight, faded, and hung on him perfectly. My eyes lingered on his muscular arms rippling out of his t-shirt as I got out of my car. Damn, that man is beautiful.
I shut my car door and walked toward the house, where he quickly greeted me on the sidewalk with a warm hug. His arms felt so strong wrapped around me that I wanted to just melt into them. That musky scent of his cologne whispered around me with a mysterious intent. I sucked in a large whiff of him, kissed the side of his neck softly, and pulled back from the hug.
He didn’t let me go; instead, he held me there, just staring into my eyes for what felt like an eternity. “I’m glad you’re here,” he said sweetly.
I was, too.
“I’m sorry I didn’t leave a note that morning,” I said quickly, feeling guilty for walking out the way I did. “I had a ton to do,” I lied.
I’d actually gone home and cried. Not for long, but enough to shake me up for the day. I’d hated feeling like I’d been used, especially by Owen. He’d made me feel so special.
“I understand,” he said, still gazing into my eyes. “I’d gone and got breakfast, actually. If I’d known where you lived, I would’ve dropped it off for you,” he continued.
Wow. I felt like an ass. He went to get breakfast? He hadn’t abandoned me to sneak out without having to face me?
My heart swelled in my chest as all the pain, humiliation, and anger left my body. He wasn’t a player. He wasn’t a bad guy only looking to get laid. I was just impatient and skittish, apparently.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know. I thought you…” I stumbled over my words.
“Left?” he asked with a chuckle in his voice.
I shrugged my shoulders and fought back the tears forming in my eyes. I didn’t want to cry. I had nothing to cry about. I was happy.
“Well, just know I’d never do that to you,” he said , his voice soft and warm as he pulled me in for a tighter hug.
I fell into his arms, listening to the beat of his heart and rocking with the rhythm of his breath.
“Let’s get you on a horse,” he said, leading me toward the stables.
I walked past the first two stables, one with a large white horse, and the other with a small foal with a shiny brown coat. He was snuggled up in the corner on a pile of hay, his eyes droopy, and he little lanky body almost lifeless. “Who’s this?” I asked, unable to pass the poor creature that looked sickly and scared.
“That’s Carlos. We can’t get him to eat,” Owen said.
I opened the stable door and made my way to the little horse. I knelt down beside him and wrapped my arms around him while placing my cheek on his side. He nudged me with his snout, snuggling into my hair as I squeezed him into my arms. H
e was warm, but shaking. It was obvious he was anxious, scared, or just confused about what he was doing here alone. “You’re a handsome little devil,” I whispered to him, stroking his mane slowly.
He lifted his head, his eyes still sad. My heart ached for him. “Is he sick?” I asked.
Owen knelt down beside me, reaching out to stroke the foal’s head. “The vet couldn’t find anything,” he said sadly.
I reached for the bottle of feed tied by a string from the gate. The foal looked interested, but not enough to reach for it himself. I held him in my arms, sang softly and let him move toward the bottle on his own. I held it under my arm, nuzzling up close to him while petting his head. He eventually lowered his head to the bottle and slowly started drinking. Owen was delighted, his face offering up both shock and awe at the situation. “He just missed his mother,” I said softly.
“That’s what Charlie said,” he chuckled.
The foal ate like he hadn’t in weeks, but I took the bottle away from him before he made himself sick. “He just needs to feel safe while he eats,” I told Owen, who still had his mouth hanging open. The poor foal had been taken from his mother far too early. Owen told me he’d purchased plenty of other foals the same age and they’d done fine, but it was obvious this one wasn’t like the others. It needed nurturing, love, and a lot of patience.
“You are amazing,” he said, shaking his head as he stood.
I took the hand he extended to me and let him pull me to my feet. My body pressed into his as our lips met. I’d missed the sweetness of his kiss, and it was welcomed by my lips as we embraced for what felt like the first time. Our tongues intertwined, our hands roamed each other’s bodies, and our hearts beat in sync. This has to be real.
When we finally pulled apart, our eyes remained locked. He looked confused, scared even, and I felt the same exact way. I wasn’t looking for anything. But, here we were. Was this really happening?
He let me go, taking a deep breath before turning toward the back of the barn. His eyes glistened against the sunlight shining through the slats of wood, his smile warmer than the sun itself.
“Here,” he said, guiding me toward the back stables.
He opened the gate to a beautiful black horse. “Marlo,” he said her name was. She was glorious and regal, but huge.
“You know how to ride?” he asked.
I nodded. “I grew up on a farm,” I replied with a smirk.
He rolled the saddle over her broad back and tightened the straps. I gripped her reins and walked her out of the barn while Owen saddled up his own horse, a large brown-and-white one he called Duke.
“Let’s go, hotshot,” he said, slapping the ass of his horse and taking off. I’d just gotten saddled up, and wasn’t ready, but my instincts kicked in and I slapped Marlo to chase after the pair.
Marlo seemed to enjoy the action, running with a smoothness I thought odd for such a massive horse. Sitting on her back, I could feel the power from her muscles, and the speed she provided was more than a little intimidating. I didn’t like losing, and it was clear that Marlo didn’t either, so I didn’t stop her, and she didn’t offer to stop. She galloped faster and faster, until my fingers began to blister from holding on so tight.
I finally caught him as we hit the trail. He slowed Duke down to a trot and let me ride up beside them. Marlo snorted, obviously not a fan of stopping. “It’s so beautiful out here,” I said, looking around at all the tall trees and rolling hills.
“Yes, it is,” Owen said, looking directly at me when he spoke. I blushed, giggled, and tried to calm my burning cheeks. There was something about him that made me nervous—not in a bad way, but in a way that left me feeling excited and breathless.
“You’re a real smooth talker, aren’t ya?” I teased.
“They say I have a golden tongue,” he teased, rolling his tongue from his mouth to his lips.
“They? Been that many, eh?” I asked, half-joking, half-curious.
His eyes narrowed as he looked at me. It was obvious he wasn’t going to answer that question. In a way, I was glad. Did I really want to know if he’d been with thousands of women?
“I stay too busy for women,” he said with a grin.
He slapped Duke’s ass and kicked into his sides, taking off fast onto the open trail ahead. I sat there a moment on Marlo, dazed as I took in what he just said. He doesn’t have time for women. Was that a hint to not think this was going anywhere?
I kicked my spurs into Marlo’s side and quickly caught up to Duke and Owen. Owen called out for them to stop as we neared a muddy hole in the path, but Duke didn’t listen in time. He pulled back on the reins as Duke splashed into the mud, splashing it all the way up into Owen’s face. I giggled as Marlo halted at the edge of the mess, the horse watching with what appeared to be just as much amusement as I had.
“Duke!” Owen exclaimed, as if it were the horse’s fault. He pulled back hard on the reins, trying to turn him around to get out of the mud pit. Owen was clearly frustrated, and it was distracting him from what he needed to do. He somehow lost control of his horse, and his old pal Duke, who he’d said was like a best friend, started to panic with the lack of control and leadership. Duke lifted up his front legs, arching his back and calling out in fear and frustration as Owen fell from his back and straight into the mud. I laughed, hard. I couldn’t help myself.
The look on Owen’s face was priceless. That face was covered in mud, but I could see his pearly teeth and the whites of his eyes peeking out. “Oh, you think that’s funny, do ya?” he asked playfully.
I nodded. I slid down from Marlo, gripped Duke’s reins, and walked him out of the puddle. Owen sat there in the middle of the mud, now laughing pretty hard himself. “Can you help me outta here?” he asked.
I was still giggling. My body was shaking so hard with laughter that I could barely see. My eyes squinted, teared up, and began to itch as I rubbed them vigorously to calm them. “Seriously?” Owen asked, his tone sarcastic and frustrated.
“I don’t want mud all over me,” I laughed.
I looked around for something to extend to him, anything but my own hand. I found a long twig on the ground, quickly picked it up, and then extended it to Owen to grab. His hand clutched around it tightly; he pulled, tugging me from my feet enough to make me squeal. He laughed at my anxiety, tugging it again, this time harder. I flew toward him, my feet slipped in the mud, and then suddenly I was in Owen’s arms in the middle of the giant puddle. We were covered in mud, so much mud that neither of us wanted to get back on our horses. “We can walk back,” I said, scraping what mud I could from my face, skin, and hair.
We gripped the horse’s reins, headed back toward the house, mostly laughing, but holding hands, and talking a bit as well. I was still stuck on what he had said, about not having time for a woman. I didn’t want to ask him to clarify, or to specify if that included me, as well. Instead, I enjoyed the moment, walked beside him, and just prayed the mud wouldn’t dry me into a statue before I made it to the house to get cleaned up.
“I’m sorry,” Owen muttered as we neared the house.
I laughed. “For what?”
“I didn’t mean for you to get dirty,” he said, sounding somewhat bashful.
I laughed again. I didn’t mind. I actually enjoyed it. I hadn’t laughed so hard in a long time.
“Yes, you did,” I smiled, the mud cracking on my face.
He smirked.
“Hey, it’s cheaper than a day at the spa,” I added, scraping the mud from my cheek.
His eyes lit up, his lips curled into a smile, and then a soft growl escaped his lips and rolled from his throat. “You look pretty damn sexy in all that mud,” he said.
“Oh, so you have a thing for dirty girls?” I teased.
“You betcha,” he laughed. “And, you’re probably the dirtiest girl I’ve ever laid eyes on,” he added with a sly smile.
I reached for him, trying to grip him, but he ran, taking off toward the house. I
ran as my mud cracked when I picked up speed, causing me to laugh even harder than before.
When I finally made it to the barn, Owen was holding a garden hose. “Are you serious?” I asked, knowing that water was going to be ice cold. It was a warm day, not a hot one, and that icy water didn’t look too appealing, not even to clean off this mud.
He grinned, turned the faucet to on, and held it over his head. He let out a yelp as the water first hit him, letting me know it was really cold.
Mud rolled down his face, finally clearing his skin and offering up a glimpse of his full, pink lips. I didn’t care that they were muddy. I leaned in, kissed him hard on the mouth, and then pulled back, screaming from the cold water soaring down my back. He’d held the hose over my head while I was trying to be sweet.
Owen apologized, and then promised to keep me warm. He held me in his arms while he let the cold hose water roll between us. He cleaned off the mud as best he could, but then stopped and stared at me with a strange hunger. “You need to take off those clothes,” he said.
We were in the middle of nowhere, his farm stretching out for acres before any neighbors could be found, but it still felt dirty to undress outside. I watched as he pulled away his shirt, and then his boots and pants. He ran the water over them, cleaning the mud from the material and hanging it over the wooden fence. His boots were trashed, so he flushed them out with water and hung them upside down on the gate to dry. “Your turn,” he said with a wicked grin.
I slowly striped out of my t-shirt, and then my jeans and boots. He carefully cleaned the material and hung it on the fence next to his before turning the hose on me. I screamed when the cold water hit my skin, causing him to laugh as I jumped and squirmed.
“I can’t take it,” I yelled out, jumping away from the hose as he tried to clean the mud from my hair. The cold water rolling down the back of my neck made me want to cry.
I could see the outline of his cock in his tight, wet briefs, and it was obvious the cold water had shrunk what used to be a large hunk of meat. I giggled as he caught me staring. His face turned to a frown, and he took the hose to me, spraying me in the belly against my bare flesh. I screamed out, jumped, and he chased me as far as the hose would reach. When I realized he couldn’t get to me, I stopped, laughed, and wiggled my hips to taunt him. It reminded me of one of those old cartoons, where the cat would sneak into the neighbor’s lawn, wake up the angry dog and get chased until the dog’s chain would pull it back. Just like those cartoons, there was always a twist where the cat would come back, thinking it was safe. The dog would move the dog house, or maybe even get off its chain somehow. Well, Owen did something like that when he dropped the hose, his face was filled with intent, and before I could react, he was already on me, lifting me up by my waist, and carrying me away—to where, I wasn’t sure. All I knew was I was no longer safe, and taunting him may have been a bad idea.
