by Ward, J. R.
“You’ll have to sleep on the couch,” Devlin said, indicating the navy blue slipcovered sofa. “I use the other bedrooms as an office and…for storage.”
She looked up at the hesitation but his face gave away nothing as he put his cane in an umbrella stand and hung up his coat. She followed his lead, taking off her barn jacket and putting it on a peg on the wall, next to his. Side by side, their coats hung tightly together, the sleeves mingling. She found the sight appealing and, as she got her bearings, she felt an air of tantalizing pleasure just being in his home.
Devlin disappeared down the hall and returned with a freshly laundered men’s shirt, still warm from the dryer. “I’ll be back with some pillows and blankets.”
Holding his shirt in her hands, she watched him tackle the stairs with the caution of someone twice his age. Each time he put up the foot of his injured leg, she couldn’t keep herself from wincing. Even though his face remained impassive, she could tell the strain he was under. It was in the flush that covered his face and in the ironfisted grip he had on the railing.
On impulse, A.J. put down the shirt and went after him. At the top of the stairs, she saw several doors and quickly put her head inside one. With only the dim light of the hall for illumination, it was too dark to see anything but odd shapes in the room.
“What are you doing?” His voice cracked like a whip. Reaching past her, he shut the door.
“I wanted to save you the trip back down the—”
“I’m not an invalid and I don’t want you poking around. Why don’t you go down and sit still so I can wait on you?”
A.J. held her tongue and left him in a hurry, wondering what the fuss was about. The more she thought about it, though, she figured he was sensitive about his limp and she’d probably hurt his pride. Considering she was spending the night on his couch and her horse was in one of his stalls, she figured she owed him a little slack.
Minutes later, he came back down the stairs. This time she looked the other way, wishing there was something on the walls to occupy her. She’d have preferred even a velvet Elvis painting over trying to pretend the wood paneling was fascinating as he approached.
Silently, he held out the bedding to her and then disappeared into the kitchen. As soon as she was alone, she released the breath she was holding and made up the couch quickly. With a glance over her shoulder, she made sure she wasn’t going to flash him and changed into his shirt.
As it covered her naked body, she was amazed to find she was wearing Devlin McCloud’s shirt. It was a shirt that, given how soft the cotton was, he wore often, and it was tantalizing to think that what was now against her skin had once been against his. She passed another quick check in the direction he’d gone and then lifted the sleeve to her nose and breathed in deeply. The scent of his fabric softener was heavenly, and that was when she decided she’d completely lost it. The instant a person started to think of Downy as a cologne probably meant a rubber room couldn’t be far behind.
Feeling off-center himself, Devlin McCloud came back around the corner just as the woman he’d been preoccupied with all afternoon and all evening was bending down and sliding between a set of his sheets. Without meaning to, he caught a long view of her shapely legs and his hand tightened hard against the glass of scotch he was holding. He couldn’t help but keep watching as she got in the makeshift bed and pulled up the sheets to her chin.
“Now what have I done?” she asked.
“Nothing. Why?”
“You’ve got that jungle-cat-measuring-an-antelope look, so I figured I’d ask.”
Instead of responding, Devlin turned off the overhead light and took a healthy swig of the brown liquor. He wasn’t much of a drinker but he had a feeling that sleep was going to be elusive. And that was before he’d caught a glimpse of the smooth expanse of her calf and thigh. Now there was heat swirling around his gut and he knew it wasn’t just the scotch.
“Bath’s down the hall. Shower’s upstairs if you need it in the morning.”
“Thanks again,” A.J. murmured, obviously giving herself up to exhaustion.
It was a long time that he stayed in the shadows and watched the woman until, totally disturbed, he went to the stairs. Even then, he found it difficult to leave. He stood, with one foot on the bottom step, and looked at her in the reflected glow of the fire he’d banked hours before. Auburn hair was spread across the pillow he’d given her in a glorious dark wave, and in the dim light the perfectly formed features of her face seemed heaven made, not of the earth at all. In his mind’s eye, he saw himself going to her, slipping a hand under the silken weight of her hair and lifting her lips to his. She would taste like honey. All warm golden sweetness.
Shit, he thought. Why couldn’t she have turned up looking for nothing more complicated than a date?
Although, when he thought about it, he knew an evening out with her would be anything but simple. The woman had a way of lighting up a room that distracted him like nothing else he’d ever run across.
I may be in trouble here, he thought.
He found the strength of his attraction to her surprising and told himself it must be because he hadn’t been with a woman in a long time. Before the accident, he’d never had much time for a personal life. Since then, he hadn’t had any interest in one. It had been a long time since he’d felt anything other than pain and he’d forgotten his heart had the capacity for anything else. Now, for the first time since his accident, he was looking at something he found beautiful.
Or someone, as was the case.
A.J. stirred, letting out a soft sigh.
It was like an invitation had been whispered against his ear and he found himself getting hard.
With a fumbling movement, Devlin tossed back the last of the scotch and went upstairs.
The next morning, A.J. was up with the sun, pulling on her jeans and boots and putting the couch back in order as quietly as she could. As she sneaked out the front door to hightail it down to the barn, she glanced up at the windows on the second story. She wondered whether Devlin was sleeping. And what he looked like when he was at rest.
He was probably back in those pajama bottoms again, she thought. Or had he pulled them on quickly to answer the door because he slept in the nude?
Suddenly, the early-morning chill didn’t seem all that chilly.
Doing her best to push her wayward thoughts out of her mind, she rushed down to the barn. The first light of dawn was coming across the meadow in all its peach-hued glory but she didn’t pause to savor the majesty of the morning. She was in a hurry to see the stallion and was relieved to hear him stomp a hoof and whinny a greeting as she slid aside the big wide door.
Now, that’s what a stable should sound like, she thought, as she opened the top half of Sabbath’s stall door. He reached out to her, nudging her shoulder and snuffling over her jacket.
“Good morning to you, too,” she said, giving him a scratch behind the ears. She was pleased by how happy he was to see her. “You know, I’m beginning to think you might be a real mushball.”
Sabbath flicked his ears back and forth and then thrust his muzzle under her arm, lifting her off the ground.
Laughing, she entered the stall, checked his water and then went to the trailer for some oats and hay. When she returned, his head was out in the aisle and he was surveying his new surroundings. Ducking under his neck, she hung a bucket of feed on a brass hook next to the water tub and waited while he lipped the food and began to eat. Figuring he’d like some peace and quiet as he had breakfast, she left the stall.
As soon as she shut the door, Sabbath’s head was back out into the aisle and he started nickering. Concerned, she went back over to him, only to watch as he pulled his head inside and tucked into the sweet feed again. With an indulgent smile, she leaned up against the door and talked to him as he ate, using the time to try to figure out a plan for them. By the time he was licking the bottom of the bucket, their future was no clearer but she’d enjoyed the quie
t time with him. As she shut his top door, she decided he could be pretty endearing when he wanted to be.
When A.J. went outside, she stood for a moment looking at the farmhouse. In the tender morning light, it was a needlepoint sampler, all that was good and cozy, and autumn made the place seem even more inviting. In a blaze of color, the rich reds and yellows of fall were beginning to manicure the tips of tree branches, emphasizing the house’s radiant white exterior.
The image was picture perfect, postcard ready, she thought. Drop it in the mail and remind someone of the fantasy home everyone wished for. Too bad Norman Rockwell’s model of farming America was making her stomach feel like she’d swallowed a box of thumbtacks.
A.J. rubbed her belly, thinking maybe her father’s thing with stress and antacids might be hereditary.
She was feeling trapped between being thrilled to see Devlin McCloud again and knowing that she had to leave. It was a one-two punch. She doubted she would run into him again and that made her curiously distraught. She was also back where she’d started the night before with no place to put the stallion.
Why couldn’t they just stay here?
The facilities were what she wanted. Perfectly kitted out, with no distractions from other horses or riders. And working with someone of Devlin’s stature would be a once-in-a-lifetime chance for any rider. The only drawback was the effect he had on her, but even that was exciting. She imagined that working with him would be stimulating on so many levels and, as long as she could stay focused, it would be a wonderful way to see if something could develop between them.
Put like that, it was hard to figure out which was more attractive. The training or the man himself.
So what could she say to change his mind?
Good morning, nice sheets, by the way, are you sure you don’t want to spend the next two months with me and my big black stallion?
She didn’t think that was going to cut it.
All was quiet as A.J. stepped inside and she wondered if she shouldn’t just leave. Probably it was the right thing to do but it wasn’t an option as far as she was concerned. She wanted to see him one more time so she padded into the kitchen, wondering where the coffeemaker was. She found it, next to a Crock-Pot full of freshly ground beans. As the aroma of coffee seeped through the room, she took a seat at the battered oak table and stared out a bank of windows at the mountain range behind the house. High in the sky, above the undulating shoulders of the hills, birds were surfing lazily on invisible currents and she coveted their nonchalance. Tossing and turning in the wind, they seemed content to be pulled in unexpected directions.
When the percolator was done, she searched for a mug, poured some steaming brew into it and returned to her waiting. Soon she heard noises overhead. When Devlin appeared a while later, he was walking more slowly than usual.
“Good morning,” A.J. said, glancing at him. He’d showered and shaved and she could smell the clean scent of his soap. Something tangy with a hint of cedar.
Yummy, she thought.
“I see you’ve made yourself at home.”
“Just trying to make myself useful.”
“Thanks for getting a head start on the coffee.”
Covertly, A.J. studied him as he crossed the room to the pot. His hair was glossy from being damp, and the flannel shirt he wore, which accentuated his broad shoulders, had been rolled up to his elbows. He was wearing a pair of well-washed jeans that were faded over the thighs and, she noted with a flush, on the backside. He looked comfortable, casual, and yet totally in control of himself and his surroundings.
He was a man she could get used to seeing in the morning, she thought.
This made her wonder how many women had come down those stairs with him after a night spent in his bed, how many had joined him at the rough oak table she was now sitting at. Whom had he loved with his body? With his heart? Was there someone for him now?
A.J. shook her head, telling herself it was none of her business. It didn’t help. With the way she reacted to him, his relationships with women were an inappropriate but undeniable priority to her.
Devlin groaned as he sat down. Catching her look of concern, he muttered, “Nothing to worry over—just takes some time for my leg to get going in the morning.”
“Does it bother you a lot?”
“It makes itself known, all right.”
“Will you be able to ride again?” she blurted out.
He froze, mug halfway to his lips. Pain tightened his features, drew the blood from his face.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean to—”
“No,” he said softly, “no, it’s all right.”
He was silent for so long that she thought he’d forgotten she was even sitting across from him. And then he answered.
“It isn’t so much that I can’t ride anymore…. It’s that I can’t fall again.” He looked into his coffee mug. Took a sip. “This leg of mine is held together with metal screws and plates. One more trauma and it’s game over. As it stands now, I’m still working to get the mobility back. I guess I should feel lucky that it wasn’t worse. There are some people who don’t get to walk again after what happened to me.”
“What a horrible accident,” A.J. whispered. “It must have been awful to lose…”
“Mercy? It was worse than losing my career. Putting her down was the hardest decision I’ve ever had to make.” He stared ahead, lost to his memories. “I can’t describe what it was like after we hit the ground. She was flailing around, her foreleg shattered. Absolutely shattered. Irreparable. It was cockeyed at the knee, hoof facing the wrong way.”
A.J. reached out to him, needing to soothe his anguish somehow. Her hand settled on his forearm. His skin was warm to the touch and she could feel the fine hair that sprinkled over it.
His eyes shot down to the contact and she saw that she’d shocked him. Hazel eyes narrowed on her. There was a wealth of suspicion in their depths. She imagined that the media and everyone in the business had been after him during the year for some kind of insight into his inner torment. Not wanting to press him, she removed her hand.
“I don’t know why I’m talking to you,” he said quietly. “But I think it has something to do with your eyes.”
She felt herself becoming breathless. “My eyes?”
He nodded. “I’m usually wary of people. But it’s hard to be suspicious of the clear blue sky.”
A.J. gulped, feeling as if she were on the edge of a cliff. And that leaping off was a really great idea.
Devlin continued. “I stayed with Mercy when the vet gave her the shot. Her head was in my lap as the light went out of her eyes. I told myself that the pain was leaving her, draining away as the beat of her heart got slower and slower. That her agony would soon be over. It didn’t really help.” His eyes drifted out of the bank of windows. “I feel selfish about that. That I wanted her to stay even though she was suffering.”
“She was your partner. Of course you didn’t want to lose her.”
His gaze shifted back to her and then he moved. She thought he was going to stand up, but instead she felt the touch of his fingers on the top of her hand. She froze. Slowly, he traced the fine blue veins that ran just under her skin. It was the softest of contact, barely more than a brush of air, but it devastated her. She felt as though he had reached in and taken her heart into his palm.
They stayed there at the table, linked by his gentle explorations, until the grandfather clock in the hallway sounded eight o’clock. The chiming broke the mood and they came back from the place where their hearts had been linked.
“Well, I guess I better go,” A.J. said. She didn’t bother to hide her disappointment.
“Where are you headed?” He sat back and the contact of their hands was broken.
“I don’t really know.” A.J. stood up. Taking her mug to the sink, she rinsed it out and put it on the counter. “Thanks again for the stall and the couch.”
“You’re welcome.”
She paused on her way out of the room, hoping he’d say something or come and see her off. He just stayed at the table, though, drinking his coffee as the sun poured into the kitchen. She lifted her hand in a wave she wasn’t sure he saw, and left.
While she walked down to the barn, she wondered if she’d ever get the chance to see him again. She didn’t think it was going to be soon and she knew it wouldn’t be in the quiet intimacy of his kitchen. Both were, she thought, losses to mourn over. All it had taken was twenty minutes in the morning glow with him and she felt like she had a sense of what true love could feel like.
Sabbath greeted her with a whinny when she stepped inside the barn.
“Time to get you back in the trailer,” she told him, feeling depressed. “No use having you get used to this roomy stall when I’m going to have to vacuum-pack you like peanuts in a jar for the foreseeable future.”
She picked up his halter and was slipping it on over his ears when she heard Devlin come into the stable.
“We’ll be out of your hair in a moment,” A.J. said, without looking up. She led the stallion out of his stall.
“I’ll get you and the horse to the Qualifier but that’s as far as I’m going.”
A.J. stopped short. “What?”
“You can board him here for the going rate and I’ll charge you a fair trainer’s fee.”
She couldn’t believe what he was saying.
“Really?”
He nodded.
“That’s fantastic!” Her heart pounded with happiness and she wanted to throw her arms around him. “But why the change of heart?”
“I think I’m ready to…” He didn’t go any further. “We’ll start today. Where’s your tack?”
A.J.’s mind started spinning. “At the Sutherland compound. And I need to return the trailer.”
