Saddled (The Stables Trilogy #3)

by Penny Lam

  As the water warmed, he took off the bridle and removed her bit. She bit her lip as he eased her tail out. Despite everything, each hurt and weary trial, this still felt better than it should. The compounded relief of finally being emptied of the steel plug along with his gentle touch lit her body up. Maybe not on fire like it used to, but a low flame none the less.

  He rinsed her more slowly and soaped her extra hard, using a washcloth. It scrubbed and grated her skin until it was smooth and pink in its wake. Maple began to wonder if he was trying to scrub Reece out. Did that mean he didn’t trust Reece? Did he think that Reece and Maple had done something? Were hiding something?

  Did he not trust Maple either, then?

  When he finished, he led her back to her stall. There was no lingering pat or touch as she entered.

  Without fail, as soon as the door shut, Maple’s day grew drastically worse. Brie was accompanied this time by Lexy and Justine. All three charged into her stall. Before she could gather what was happening, Brie’s new cronies had grabbed her arms and held her, pinned.

  Maple, so fucking tired of this game, didn’t fight back. If she took whatever they planned on dishing out, they’d leave her alone that much sooner.

  “We’ve been talking, Maple. About your situation,” Brie mocked.

  You shouldn’t be talking at all.

  “We think it’s time for you to fall off of your high horse. Get it? High horse?”

  You’re so clever.

  “You’ve been leaving so much food, Maple. It’s wasteful. So we’re going to help you with that.”

  Brie waltzed over to Maple’s trough and began to shovel the portion left for Maple into her mouth.

  Maple hadn’t been eating much, but after posing with Reece all day, she was ravenous. Her stomach churned with acid as she was forced to watch Brie eat her food. They took turns holding her, the smell of Mariela’s cooking smeared on their hands and faces. Salt in the wound.

  They didn’t finish all of it. Brie grabbed the last handful and threw it into Maple’s waste bucket.

  Then they left. Brie was the last to go, turning to whisper with heat, “Time is closing in on you. I want J.B., and you aren’t going to stand in my way, little pony.”

  They left her there, starving and shaken but unsurprised. Brie was going to escalate things now that the final weeks were on them. It wasn’t enough to keep Maple from J.B. anymore.

  Maple rolled onto her back, letting the hay stick uncomfortably in her skin. The tiny, sharp pricks allowed her clarity. She needed to do something, but she wasn’t sure what. Fighting back was no longer a possibility-- now that the other girls were involved, She was outnumbered.

  If J.B. hadn’t been acting so engaged with Brie, Maple would have considered talking to him at this point. She could barely push herself through the sleeplessness. If they started starving her, too? She was a goner. But he had been paying too close attention to the brunette. So much like his dead wife. Maple hated that now, if it was her word against Brie’s, she wasn’t sure whose side he’d be on.

  That thought was one hell of a sucker punch.

  Her best bet was Reece. Maple began to plan a way to let him know that she was in trouble without breaking the rules. He’d help her, she was sure of it. After all, hadn’t he said that he was in her corner?

  “For the love of God, stop moving, Maple,” Reece chided.

  Maple stamped in frustration. She’d been trying to get his attention for over an hour, but he’d been all business as soon as J.B. brought her to him. Apparently Reece, the artist, was single-minded.

  “Your friend Brie was a much better subject.” He was teasing, but the comment rustled Maple, and she lost focus, her hands coming together to twist nervously in front of her.

  His artist’s eyes missed nothing. “Have I touched on a sore spot, stable girl?”

  She stamped once emphatically.

  “Interesting,” he mumbled, then went back to his work. Maple felt a jolt of adrenaline. She couldn't let this opportunity pass. Making her eyes wide and pointed, she glared at him.

  His brush didn’t stop moving, but his eyebrow raised.

  “You've been looking haggard. Dark circles. And--” he pointed to her meaningfully with the wooden end of his paintbrush, “--too thin. I didn't want to say anything because I know you're an anxious little lady. Is Ms. Brie responsible for that?”

  One stamp and a slight nod. Even though ponies don't cry, Maple allowed her tears to fall. What started as a small sniffle dissolved into a full blown sob.

  “Are they hurting you?” There was a new tone to Reece’s voice. It was something akin to deadly.

  One pitiful stamp.

  He let her cry for another few minutes. Then, knowing that time was burning, Maple stood up and wiped the tears from her face.

  You’ve told someone. Now compose yourself.

  This was something new. It was from a deep reservoir she hadn’t even known she had. The ability to cry it out-- but then pick herself back up.

  Maple nodded, putting her body back into position. She was ready.

  His brush dipped into an inky oil. “Do you have a plan?”

  Two stamps.

  “Were you counting on me to say something?”

  Maple hesitated. No. Part of no plan meant she hadn’t anticipated how Reece would help. She needed to change her situation, but just knowing someone else knew? Already her heart felt lighter. Two stamps.

  “Good,” he said, sounding relieved. “It isn’t that I don’t want to. But J.B. is quite fickle about you. And unfortunately, this stunt of ours-- hiding your portrait from him-- hasn’t endeared me to him at all.”

  He was silent, unusual for him. The smell of paint and piney turpentine was strong, making Maple feel dreamy. The soft sounds of his brush on the canvas were the only noises, aside from her labored breathing. She focused on not moving, the muscles of her legs and back threatening mutiny.

  Those soft brush strokes came faster and harder, until Reece was practically jabbing at the canvas. Maple jumped when he threw the paintbrush across the room. It splintered against the wall, leaving a large, dark, and angry splotch.

  He stood so quickly that his chair toppled backward, the second crash making her jump. It was rare to see him so unrestrained. The last time had been when he’d accosted in the stable. So Maple couldn’t help but to take a step back as he stormed toward her.

  Hands gripped her shoulders, fingers digging in as painful pricks. Reece’s eyes and hair were wild. “Goddamn him,” he hissed. “Damn him for not seeing what this is doing to you. Or, if he is seeing it, not doing anything. It’s just that you hurt him, I think, when you joined the stable. That place dredges up memories for him.”

  He’s got Brie-- and Rachel--on his mind. She nodded. Reece was vocalizing her own feelings-- the hurt that stemmed from J.B.’s ambivalence.

  The vice grip on her arms released slightly. He pulled her close, close enough her heart fluttered, and she found herself afraid, yet again, of fending Reece off. “I wish I knew what to tell you,” he rasped. “You continue to surprise me, and women never surprise me. If I didn’t respect J.B. so damned much, I’d fucking take you away this instant.”

  He pressed a scalding kiss to her forehead. “But I do respect him. And while he’s being stupid and stubborn, I trust him. He’s wrong, but he’ll come around.”

  Maple raised her eyebrows at ‘wrong,’ pleading for Reece to fill her in.

  “You know Brie looks like Rachel, right?” Reece’s eyes darted toward the door as if afraid J.B. would burst in at any moment.

  One hesitant stamp.

  “It isn’t just her looks. Her bearing, the way she carries herself-- it is a painful reminder for him. Old wounds have been ripped open. He’s lost right now, and he thinks--” Reece shook his head. “Nevermind. No, no, don’t get so worked up. Not yet. Even with Rachel… I’ve never seen him care about anyone the way he cares about you. Do you get what I’m saying?”r />
  No. She didn’t. She couldn’t. J.B. cared for her-- and Brie? Or was forgetting her in the presence of Brie? What was Reece getting at?

  “This is a secret. The auction’s been moved. Do you remember the host? Peyton? His divorce was nasty, and he’s lost his home. Another patron is hosting, but can only do it a week and a half from today.”

  Her heart froze, the blood sludging into ice in her veins. Her body went limp, her mind willing itself to lock up. She slid down the front of Reece’s body, his arms catching her before she could crash.

  “Don’t do this!” He barked at her before rearing a hand back and smacking her across the face. Ears ringing and cheek burning, Maple forced herself to focus on him. For the first time, she could see a similarity between Reece and J.B. Underneath his ridiculous facade was a stoic, dangerous man.

  “I’m telling you this so you won’t give up. You only have to fight through whatever shit is happening in the stable for another week and a half. That’s it? Do you get it?”

  Maple nodded, but her heart wasn't in it. It was still paralyzed by terror. He gathered her up in his arms.

  “I'm going to make you a deal, Maple. I know that I seem like an asshole. That's because I am an asshole. But if J.B. can’t get his head out of his own behind, I’ll buy you at the auction. Rather me then some stranger, right?”

  He sounded soft and earnest, and she met his gaze. It was genuine, filled with pity and concern, and something else. Desire. It didn’t startle her, really, though its intensity was unexpected. Reece always seemed like he just enjoyed her because it pissed J.B. off. This, though?

  It looked serious.

  She considered him, truly. Today he was wearing a simple black t-shirt. Fitted. His body was more muscular than she would have guessed. The jersey clung to his chiseled chest in a way that stirred her. Low slung, designer jeans. His hair was dark like J.B.’s, but straighter, tumbling in his face like a model’s.

  How had she not noticed him before? How had she not seen the lean, hard lines of his body and the sensual, masculine curves of his face?

  It was obvious, of course. Because he was always with J.B. J.B. took her breath away. He demanded all of her focus, her energy, her thoughts. If she had met Reece first, who knew?

  Was Reece really willing to be second place? He’d have to know that J.B. would always hold her love.

  Something must have crossed his face, because Reece looked away, mouth drawn into a pained smile.

  “I want you to shoot for him,” he growled. “I want you to try your fucking hardest to win that stubborn son of a bitch over.” His voice softened, and he looked back at her, his arrogant facade back in place. “I'm just offering a backup plan. I don't know if he'd be willing to sell you to me, but I'm promising you, if you want it, I'll try.”

  She had to help herself up, leaning heavily on his strong arm. But once raised, she gave him one solid stamp.

  Yes, she would be willing.

  Chapter Twelve

  J.B. was tense when he came to collect her. He practically dragged her by the reins out of the studio. Maple’s head spun with the day’s turn of events, and she stumbled after him.

  Even though he hadn't specified, she trotted, her knees out and chest forward.

  In the gallery, sunlight illuminating the white of the furniture brilliantly, he jerked the reins, forcing her to stop. “Whoa,” he said, his tone hushed.

  The sun was setting. She’d always loved this room the most. It felt so blatantly out of place in the middle of nowhere. The art, hung on every surface, was a giant portal into the heart of J.B. It was the only place he wore his heart on his sleeve, or, as it happened, on his walls. The dusk was beginning to push through, those pinks and oranges Maple loved so much dusting the world in a soft glow.

  He lazily reached a hand up to grab some of her hair, running the lock through his fingers. “There’s so much I want to say to you,” he murmured. Her insides danced. She wanted to touch him and to be touched by him.

  She wanted to tell him that it was okay to feel lost and confused. That she’d wait for him. That she understood.

  She couldn’t do anything but stand there.

  She needed more time. Brie had rattled her, and Maple had used to excuse to waste her chance. That was on Maple, not Brie. But now, with an impossible deadline, she was truly wrestling with her choice. Should she risk being kicked from the stable and comfort him? Speak, finally?

  Had she changed enough to prove herself?

  Before she could make up her mind, his hands fastened on her reins. J.B. was so tall and imposing beside her, it made her thrill at his close proximity. His look was sad and his tone sadder. “Well, I’ll say this; you’re turning into a fine pony.”

  It wasn’t a compliment, the way he said it. It stung, and she bit back the anguish.

  When they reached the stable, he didn’t even groom her. Just led her into her stall and locked the stable door on his way out.

  Maple was ready for Brie and the girls that night. She let them eat her food, not bothering to fight back. She waited until Brie’s face shone with nasty satisfaction.

  Then, Maple spoke. Her voice felt raw, weak. “The auction is in a week. I’m not getting J.B., but you aren’t, either, Bitch. Prepare to be sold.” Each word was a betrayal of the vow she’d taken and labored so hard to keep.

  But maybe Maple’s problem, all along, had been not speaking up for herself. It didn't matter. It was too late for Maple, but not too late to punish her tormentor. Seeing Brie’s face twist into something ugly at each vocalized word made it worth it. “That can't be right,” the brunette hissed. “You're lying.”

  Maple shrugged, looking for all the world like she didn't have a care. “Maybe. But I don’t know if I’d break the vow of silence for a lie.”

  “You don't know anything,” Brie sneered. But she and the girls left promptly, leaving Maple and a few scraps of untainted food. Her stomach grumbled, and she ate every last crumb.

  Sleep came easily for the first time in weeks. As soon as her head hit her bed, Maple sank into worried dreams.

  It was late, or very early depending on your position, when Maple woke. Restless, she focused on the subtle sounds of the stable. The AC unit was cranking up again. The wooden joints in the ceiling creaked at the change in pressure and temperature. There were gentle shifts in the hay of other stalls, the tiniest reminder of all the women present.

  Maple was used to these noises. They’d been her companion during many sleepless nights.

  A soft click made Maple’s heart skip. Every muscle tensed in a ridiculous mockery of sleep. She shut her eyes, focusing on the sounds.

  The stall door next to her’s swung open, its hinges emitting the faintest creak. It was as ominous and loud as a trumpet it in the silent morning.

  Brie.

  No one else snuck out of their stall without her prodding. They might talk in whispers, but without her commanding presence, they were just lost little girls.

  The soft padding of of bare feet passed by Maple’s stall, hesitating briefly. It was hard, but Maple forced her chest to rise and fall in the heavy pattern of a deep sleep. When Brie wanted to scare or hurt her, she was never this cautious or quiet.

  What the hell was she up to?

  It wasn’t until the metallic click of the door pierced the quiet that Maple opened her eyes again.

  Moving with exaggerated slowness, she began to try to stand up. Every rustle of the hay and scrape of her flesh on concrete jolted her system. There was a silent race happening, one in which Brie was trying to escape without being heard, and Maple trying to catch her undetected.

  Every breath, every heartbeat, felt like an hour. Maple crawled until she could peek over her stall door, hovering in the shadows.

  The door was cracked. Brie’s hands were wedged through, fiddling with the lock. In an audible snap, it fell open. Brie froze and peered behind her. Maple held her breath, too afraid to move. The shadow cover in her sta
ll must have hidden her, because Brie placed the lock gently on the floor and stole out the open door.

  This was the gravest breaking of rules Maple had seen. The talking, the bullying and intimidation-- those were things that the girls could get away with without leaving a trace of evidence. But leaving the stable? That was just crazy.

  Maple’s nerves were taut as she considered what to do next.

  Chapter Thirteen

  I'll just go as far as the door. I won't actually leave. Then it won't be breaking the rules.