by T. J. Kline
“Similar, but different purpose. This one holds the saddle in place when you’re roping and something is tugging on it.” He glanced at her before waving her over to him. “She won’t buck. Come here.”
“Are you sure? He doesn’t look happy.” She eyed the enormous animal warily.
Derek laughed. “That might be because you keep calling her a him. She’s the gentlest horse we have on the ranch. She’s big but she won’t hurt you.”
Angela paused at the fence, eyeing the man and beast cautiously before slipping a leg through the wooden slats and bending to slide through. She yelped and jumped backward, feeling horse lips on her arm. “I thought you said she was nice!”
Derek laughed out loud. “I probably should’ve warned you about that apple. She thought you were giving it to her.” He pushed the horse’s head away from the woman caught against the fence and tried to stop laughing. “I’m sorry.” He twisted his mouth, unable to hide his smile.
Angela stood with her hands on her hips and glared at him. “Why do I get the feeling you did that on purpose?” She glanced at her breakfast on the ground where she’d dropped it and picked it up, attempting to dust it off on her pants. It was a lost cause. “I guess she might as well have it now.”
Derek moved behind her, slipping his large palm under the back of her hand, and her heart stopped beating. “Like this,” he instructed. His voice was low and husky as he flattened her palm in his and placed the apple on it. He leaned close to her ear. “Keep your palm flat so she doesn’t mistake your fingers for carrots.”
“What?” She twisted her head to look at him over her shoulder, but the movement brought their lips within inches of one another. She gasped at his nearness, inhaling the heady scent of him as heat sizzled down her back where his chest was pressed against her.
His other hand rested on her shoulder as her body molded against his, sending waves of desire rippling down her limbs and making her wonder how she was able to continue standing upright, let alone take a breath. His fingers slipped down the side of her arm, and she fought to keep from dropping her head back against his shoulder.
“She won’t hurt you. I’ll make sure of it,” he promised.
The horse flipped her upper lip at the apple before grabbing it from Angela’s hand with her teeth. Her lips were like velvet on her palm, tickling it. She tried to pull away, but Derek held her hand in place. Trying to step away from the animal only pressed her more fully against the wall of his chest, burning her skin with the heat from his body.
“See?” he asked releasing her hand, letting his rest on her hip. He glanced down at her feet. “I had a feeling that’s what you’d wear.” She looked down at the sneakers on her feet. “Those are too dangerous for riding, but I’m sure Jen or Sydney has extra boots in the barn. What size are you?”
“Eight.” She was surprised by how breathless she sounded.
“I’ll go check. Wait right here,” he ordered.
He left her alone with the horse in the corral, and she stared at the animal in front of her. “You better be as nice as he says you are. I’ve never done this before, and I don’t want to end up on the ground.” The horse gave her a dispassionate glance before looking away and blowing air through her lips. “If I do, you’ll be glue, I swear.”
“And you call us abusive?” Derek shot her a lopsided grin, sending her heart racing double time, and hung a pair of boots over the fence. “Try these.”
She took the boots, eyeing the horse as she changed her footwear. The boots were like those she’d seen people wearing at the rodeo and around the ranch, rounded at the toes with a low heel, lacing up past her ankle. She was surprised at how comfortable they were and pulled her jeans over the top of them, hoping it didn’t look ridiculous.
“Much better,” Derek said with a wink. “This is Honey’s bridle. I’ll show you how to put it on and then you can try.” She watched as he cupped the metal bar at the bottom in his palm before slipping it into the horse’s mouth, lifting the leather straps over her head. “See?” She frowned at how easy he made it look. Derek slipped the straps off the horse’s head. “Now, you try.”
Angela took a deep breath and reached for what looked like a torture device. She cupped her palm around the metal piece the way he did and put it against the horse’s lips. The stubborn animal stood there, unmoving, ignoring her attempt entirely.
“Come on,” she muttered, pushing the metal bar against the animal’s mouth just a bit harder. Still nothing.
She glanced over her shoulder at him and saw he was trying to hide a smile. “Try putting your thumb in the corner of her mouth, right here.” He slipped his thumb into the corner of the horse’s mouth and she immediately opened her mouth. “See?”
“Ew.” Angela wrinkled her nose. “You said not to get my fingers in her mouth, that she’d think they were a carrot,” she pointed out, grimacing as she pushed her thumb into the wet corner of the horse’s mouth.
The animal immediately started chewing on the metal bar. “Pull it up over her ears now.” Under his watchful eyes, she lifted the bridle over the horse’s ears carefully. “They don’t have teeth right there, so you’re safe. You did it.”
Angela stepped back and admired her accomplishment. “I did, didn’t I?” She patted the animal’s neck. “We might become friends after all.”
The horse tucked her head against Angela’s stomach. She was almost touched by the sweet, trusting gesture and reached to pet the horse’s neck. The animal flipped her head, knocking Angela backward off her feet. Strong arms circled her, caught her, and lifted her back onto her feet even as Derek’s chest vibrated against her back with his deep laughter. Embarrassment flooded her face, coloring her cheeks as she realized his arms were pressing against her breasts. So far, the only good coming from this lesson was how often his hands were ending up on her.
“ARE YOU ALL right?” Derek felt her tremble and the laughter died in his throat. This wasn’t the way he’d hoped this would go. This lesson was quickly turning into a disaster. “Angela?” He turned her to face him, his hands on her hips.
“I’m fine,” she said as she looked up at him. Laughter bubbled from her throat and he decided in an instant that he loved her laugh. She tossed back her head and let the humor of the moment overtake her. “Either you’re a horrible teacher or I’m the world’s worst stu—oh!” She squealed as Honey flipped her nose into Angela’s lower back, throwing her into his arms again.
He caught her against him, his arms encircling her, but this time the mirth died in his throat as their bodies pressed together. He felt his desire ignite like a wildfire, his jeans suddenly becoming incredibly uncomfortable. With her breasts pressed against his chest, her soft curves molding against him, and the silken skin of her shoulders under his fingers, he inhaled deeply, enjoying the sweet scent of her. None of the women he’d held had ever tormented his senses and scattered his logic like this one.
“Maybe that’s enough ground work for one day.” His fingers slid over the satin skin of her upper arm.
Derek forced himself to step away from her, hating that the movement was almost as painful as if he was tearing a limb from his body.
This is bad.
Derek knew better than to allow himself to fall for any woman as dangerous to his family as this one. He needed to keep his mind focused on the task at hand, which meant showing her that her theory about animal abuse was unfounded and escorting her from the ranch as quickly as possible. He took a deep breath. The churning desire made it difficult to keep his hands off of her. He shoved them into his pockets, shifting awkwardly.
“Let’s get you into the saddle and we’ll work on the basics in the corral before I take you out.” He stood at the mare’s head, holding the reins. “Just put the ball of your left foot in that stirrup and pull yourself up. Then swing your right leg over the saddle, but be careful not to kick Honey in the rump.”
She did as he instructed, looking uncertain, but he could see a gli
mmer of excitement in her eyes as she sat down in the saddle. He moved to the other side of the horse and slid the stirrup over her foot, letting his hand linger on her shapely calf a moment longer than was necessary; he was unable to fight the need to touch her.
He returned to her left side. “Take the reins in the fingers of your left hand loosely. Keep it in front of the horn.”
“This thing?” she asked, pointing at the saddle horn.
“Yep. Now Honey neck reins, which means if you want her to go right, lay the reins on the left side of her neck.” He moved her hand and showed her. The horse immediately responded by taking a step to the right. “Why don’t you try walking her around the corral? But make her turn where you want her to go.”
Derek moved to the center of the corral, leaving his gelding tied on the fence while he watched her. She sat tall but stiff in the saddle, causing the mare to pull at the reins.
“Relax; I’m not going to ask you to do anything you’re not comfortable with.” She glanced his way before quickly looking back at the animal, clearly not trusting him. “Whoa,” he called out. The mare stopped and stood still.
Angela looked at him as he approached her. “She stopped.”
“I told you, she’s well trained.” He laid his hand on her knee, trying to ignore the electricity shooting up his arm and centering in his chest. The mare fidgeted, pawing at the ground. “See that? Horses can read the emotions of the people around them. They mimic what they feel coming from you. If you’re angry, she’ll act up. If you’re nervous, she’ll be antsy.” He put his hand on her ankle. “Drop your heels, sit deeper into your butt. Let your hips rock with her movement. Put your hand on top of her neck. It’s like sitting in a moving chair.”
“Like this?”
He watched as she continued circling the corral, doing better, but he knew it would be easier just to show her what he meant. He hurried back to his gelding as she continued to circle the corral. Settling himself in the saddle, he rode beside her.
“See how my hips stay relaxed?” She frowned and bit her lower lip, her attention focused on his lower body and matching his movements. Derek fought back a groan as her eyes caressed him and he watched her hips rock in time with the movement of the animal between her thighs. His thoughts began to stray, thinking of those hips under his hands only moments before. He knew he was only tormenting himself.
“I think you’ll do fine as long as we stay at a walk,” he growled as he led her to the corral gate. He needed to put some space between them and gain control of his carnal fantasies.
Chapter Eight
* * *
EVERYTHING WAS STARTING to hurt, from the balls of her feet all the way to the spot between her shoulder blades that she desperately needed to stretch. They had ridden in silence for the last thirty minutes with him leading the way. Normally, she would’ve enjoyed the quiet, but every muscle in her legs and lower back was screaming at her, aching with a need to be massaged. Derek promised that they would stop as soon as they reached the lake, but that was when they’d first left the corral and she didn’t know how much more agony her muscles could stand. What she really wanted was a few minutes to soak in a hot bath.
She glared at his muscular back as she’d been doing for what felt like miles of open pasture. He should have felt her eyes burning holes in his shirt by now. She twisted in the saddle, looking to see how far they’d come from the main house, and saw nothing but grassy hills and pastures dotted with Corriente cattle they used for roping.
“Um, are we getting close to that lake?” She flexed the muscles of her thighs and grimaced in discomfort. He ignored her, not even turning around to look her way. She stuck her tongue out at his back. She knew it was a childish gesture, but she couldn’t figure him out. One minute he was kissing her, his hands creating a yearning in her she’d never known, and the next he snubbed her, content to forget her very existence. “Hello?” she called.
“It’s just up ahead.”
“Up ahead where?” she muttered, patting the side of Honey’s neck. “At least you’ve been nicer to me than he has.”
Derek was right about the horse: Riding her was like sitting in a slow-moving rocking chair. But that didn’t make the ride any easier on her sore backside. As they crested the hill, the horse picked up speed and began trotting down the hill as Angela bounced uncontrollably in the saddle, grasping the saddle horn with both hands.
“No, wait, stop!” Her horse passed Derek in her hurry toward the water now coming into view at the bottom of the hill. “Ow, you damn horse, stop!”
“Pull back on her reins,” he ordered, not even bothering to hide his irritation. Before she could follow his instructions, he was by her side, reaching for the reins. “Whoa, girl,” he murmured to the animal.
Her traitorous horse immediately betrayed her and halted. Derek glanced at her, his face screwed up with disgust. “This isn’t nearly as hard as you’re making it.”
He cued his horse to walk toward the lake, leaving her staring at him, openmouthed, while her disloyal mount pawed at the ground, wanting to follow.
Deal with it, you stupid horse.
She swung her leg over the saddle and dismounted. She’d walk the rest of the way to the lake—and back to the ranch, if necessary—but she’d wasn’t about to give him the satisfaction of knowing how sore she was. She clenched her jaw, stuffing her irritation within when she really wanted to throw something. She hadn’t wanted to come for this ride in the first place. She’d have been just as happy touring the ranch with anyone else or, better yet, doing research online in her room. She took a deep breath to control her temper.
She could see him ahead, tying his horse to a branch under one of the trees before loosening the saddle. His horse immediately dropped his head and began grazing on the grass nearby. Derek moved to sit on a rock near the water, not even looking to see if she was riding down or not. It annoyed her that he was certain she would follow him but the thought of riding, or walking, back to the ranch was too much to contemplate. He picked a glorious spot, shaded by several trees. The breeze barely blowing across the water caused small ripples while sparrows played at the edge. She made her way slowly, trying to loosen the tight muscles of her thighs, hating him a little more with every step.
He glanced up as she neared. “It’s about time.” He rose and took the reins from her hand, careful not to touch her, and tied the horse to a branch near his own, slipping a small pack from where it hung over the back of her saddle.
“What’s that?”
“This?” He held up the pack. “This is lunch.”
She frowned at him. “If I’d known I had it, I would have headed back to the ranch.”
He handed her a bottle of water, tipping his toward her before twisting the cap and taking a long drink. “You’re welcome.”
“For what, being a jerk?”
He held a sandwich out to her. “What did I do?”
She arched a brow and snatched the sandwich from his hand. “Oh, absolutely nothing at all,” she answered dryly. She was certain he knew exactly what he’d done.
He sat on the ground in front of her and took a bite from his own food. “Fine, why don’t you tell me how you want me to act. Should I follow your every move like a puppy on a leash? Or maybe I should act more like a tour guide?” He waved his hand elaborately to the side. “Everything you see around you is our north pasture. This is where we keep most of the cattle that are used in the calf and team roping. We have about three hundred head of cattle we choose from so that we don’t overwork any of the animals.” He took another swig from the water bottle. “Is that what you want?”
She shook her head at him. “It helps, smart aleck.” She sipped the water. “You know, you could have warned me that the horse might take off running toward the water—or at least reminded me how to stop her when she did.”
“I showed you in the corral.” His eyes softened as he glanced her way. “But, you’re right,” he conceded, “I prob
ably should have reminded you how to stop her. This is your first ride. I’m sorry.”
She wasn’t sure what she’d expected from him, but it wasn’t an apology. It immediately diffused her irritation.
“Thank you.” She looked back toward the water and the birds still twittering at the edge. It was a perfect location for a relaxing picnic, if she could calm the nervous flutter of her stomach.
He bumped her foot with the toe of his boot. “How are your legs doing?” His voice held a note of concern it hadn’t a few moments ago, and she wondered at the change in him.
“How’d you know?” She smiled in spite of herself.
Derek shrugged. “You’re not the first person I’ve taught to ride.”
A stab of jealousy caught her by surprise as she envisioned him teaching women far prettier and less troublesome. She wondered if the entire routine in the corral, feeding her horse and being pushed into his arms, hadn’t happened hundreds of times before. Did he always finish his riding lessons here with a picnic? She frowned, eyeing him warily.
“I’m sure I’m not. I’ll bet you’re in high demand as an instructor.”
She caught the glimmer of humor in his eye as he didn’t even bother to conceal his cocky grin. “Everyone goes through it. We’ll walk part of the way back. That should help alleviate some of the soreness.”
She noticed he didn’t deny her accusation. She refused to let him think that she’d be envious of any bimbo he might have hooked up with. Why should she care who he took riding? Her gaze slid over his broad shoulders to his narrow hips, changing the direction her thoughts had taken. She instantly regretted the new course they’d taken.
“Like you’ve ever been sore,” she muttered.
Derek laughed. “You’d be surprised. Up until about six months ago, I was pretty scrawny.” She tilted her head and gave him a disbelieving look. “I swear,” he said, holding up one hand.
“How is that even possible?” She didn’t intend to stroke his ego, but she couldn’t believe his admission. The man was a mass of bulging muscle, a magnificent specimen of manhood with broad shoulders tapering to a six-pack most men would kill for. His thighs stretched his jeans as much as his t-shirts strained to fit around his biceps. Even his hands were manly, calloused and work-roughened. There was nothing about this man that didn’t speak of masculinity. He was a woman’s dream of sculpted perfection with only one flaw she could see: a tiny scar over his right eye. “You’re so . . .”
