“You ever seen pasture breeding?”
She isn’t sure how to respond. The answer is yes, but she doesn’t want to let on just how much experience she has. Then again . . . . Flor shakes her head. What he does to me.
“Like I said before, the key is to gauge the mare’s cycle and responsiveness to the stallion. As soon as she’s ready, he’ll know and,” Paco snaps his fingers, “the physical takes over. It’s all quite biological and chemical.”
Flor swallows. Yes, desire and compatibility can be that simple. It’s relationships that complicate everything. “But,” she hesitates, “What if it doesn’t work, no matter his readiness or the mare’s receptivity?” The question is layered, and the sexy Argentinian standing next her knows it.
Paco turns his body entirely to face her. “Not a problem. Things happen or don’t for many reasons. But breeding runs in my family. We have a knack for gauging these things.” He looks back at the paddock and Flor follows his gaze. She notices Collin standing on the other side watching the horse, or possibly them.
“In any case, we’ll inseminate if we have to.”
Just then, a stable hand brings out the mare. As much as Flor wants to turn away when the stallion mounts the mare, she can’t. The entire scene, primal and raw, keeps her attention until the end.
Chapter 17
Flor wakes to a still darkened sky, a few stars illuminating the landscape. Even though it’s Saturday, she can’t sleep, her mind constantly bouncing back and forth between life after the summer and Paco. As she was leaving the stable last night, he finally issued an invitation to visit his place. It took a lot of willpower, but she passed, knowing her refusal would be part of the game for him. He’s expected to chase her. That’s how it works. Some time after sunrise, she decided she wants him, but it will have to be on her terms.
She starts getting ready quickly, not wanting to make Gary wait. He had come by last night to say he’d take her to the market at seven that morning. Flor’s excited to get her own provisions, already tiring of the food at the canteen. Despite her efforts to be prompt, by the time she rushes out of the gate, it’s five after. Flor spots the black SUV idling in the driveway and gets in the backseat. “I’m sorry I’m late,” Flor says, out of breath. When she looks up, she stops breathing. It’s not Gary. It’s his son, Collin.
“Not a problem,” he replies and puts the car into gear.
Flor’s heart begins to pound wildly, being in an enclosed space with this man whom finds utterly bemusing and absolutely beautiful. Her mind races, trying to think of something to say, but nothing comes to her.
“Where’s your dad?” She finally asks. “I mean, he said last night that he’d come over to pick me up.”
Collin keeps his eyes fixed on the road. “He texted this morning to say he had something to take care of, so here I am.”
“Right. Well, I hope everything is alright.” Flor tucks her hair behind her ear with trembling fingers. This man is so unnerving.
“I’m sure it’s fine.” His dark eyes glance at her through the rearview mirror then return to the road.
She laces her fingers together tightly to bring them under control. After a few quiet breaths, she asks, “How far is the market?”
“The nearest town is ten miles. It’s about five miles from there.”
Flor sits back for the ride. She tries to discern what it is about Collin that both fascinates her and turns her completely inside out. His incredible good looks are one for sure. Maybe it’s superficial, but who cares? Beauty is not a bad thing to cherish Poppy told her. But there’s something else about him that makes her want to reach out and lightly brush her finger along the back of his tan neck and around his chest. It makes her want to know what he’s thinking, what thoughts he keeps inside. Those dark eyes reveal a man entirely self-possessed who seems to have a kind of knowing that he doesn’t want to share with anyone else.
She turns her head and stares out the window. Beyond the gates and hills of Belo Horizonte, the rest of the area appears dull and uninteresting.
Flor turns back to Collin. “Why haven’t you introduced yourself or asked my name?” She asks boldly, attempting to push him to talk to her.
He looks at her through the mirror. “You know my name, and I know yours, Flor.”
“But you never asked.”
“I didn’t have to. My father told me.”
“It’s at least polite,” she mumbles.
When they arrive at the end of a long dirt road, farmers and other vendors are still setting up stalls and signs. “We’re not too early?” Flor asks, getting out of the car.
Collin doesn’t reply. He puts on a hat and walks around to the back of the Escalade. He pulls a few shopping bags out of the trunk. “My mother says these are for you.”
Flor reaches out to take them, her hand brushing his. The electricity that passes between them is so powerful she drops the bags. “Sorry,” she mutters, bending down to pick them up. She shoves them altogether into the largest bag and slings it over her shoulder, electricity still shooting through her and awakening every part of her body. Brushing the dust off the front of her jeans she recovers and says, “Let’s go.”
The market is exactly as Gary promised and didn’t disappoint. Flor happily samples strawberries and stone fruits, filling each bag Collin had given her. The setting reminds her of the feiras in Rio, the outdoor markets she would sneak off to with a nanny or maid when she was visiting her family. This market is far more staid, however—no vendors yelling about the goods or bargain prices like they do in Brazil. These memories, unlike others, bring a smile to Flor’s face. Those stolen moments taught her to value her freedom in a way she hadn’t before. Unexpectedly, she’s there again, able to do as she pleases.
“You think your father will like this?” She asks Collin, holding up a peach pie.
He glances up and nods. “He would eat the whole thing if you’d let him, but he’s on a diet.”
Flor looks back at the stacks of pie. “I was hoping to get your parents something to thank them for being so kind to me.”
“It’s not necessary.”
The look she gives him cuts him short. “It is to me,” she replies, no longer feeling intimidated by his quiet demeanor. She hates when people say gifts aren’t necessary. If it’s one philosophy she’s willing to adopt from her parents, it’s that gifts say it all.
“Look, if it matters that much, you can buy that jar of honey. He’s allowed to have natural sugar.”
She grabs the jar and two pies, one peach and one berry, and hands over the cash. “Your mother can decide how much pie he can eat.”
Was that a smile? She wonders. Whatever it was quickly fades, and she sees his eyes track a young woman walking by with a toddler with light brown skin and wild curly hair. The blond woman reminds Flor of Izzy, except her face didn’t have the same friendly energy that Izzy’s always had. The woman glances over at Collin quickly, smiles, then turns away.
“Ready to go?” He asks in a clipped tone, his expression serious.
Flor nods, figuring it’s more important for him to leave than it is for her to stay. “Sure.”
She watches Collin during the drive back to the ranch. Not once does he take his eyes off the road. Whatever progress she might’ve made has been eclipsed by that one moment. Must’ve been an ex the way he’s behaving. Collin didn’t strike Flor as a jilted ex-lover, but what does she know?
Flor runs her left hand over the area where their hands met. She had never experienced anything like it. The sensation was truly electrifying, leaving her body buzzing with tiny bolts of electricity flying through her. Her skin prickled and felt hot, but cold to the touch. She remembers the butterflies she used to get when she was with Enrico, even when they were just friends. The tingles she had then were nothing compared to the searing heat that fills her as she remembers Collin’s touch. She can’t possibly be the only one who felt it?
When he pulls up in front of the hous
e, he doesn’t bother to look back at her.
“Would you like to come in for some coffee?” Flor offers. “I feel like I should repay you for taking me this morning.”
He shakes his head. “I need to get to back to the stables,” he replies.
Chapter 18
Flor throws herself into work the next week, trying her best to forget about that touch. She does what she can to keep Paco and his inviting eyes at arms’ length as well. What for? She chides herself. In case Collin accepts her invitation for coffee? Even she has to laugh at that. But what then?
It’s only ten weeks until she leaves for Smith. Ten weeks isn’t a lot of time, but when you’re young, it’s certainly long enough to try to get to know someone.
“Are you interested in coming over tonight?” Paco asks Flor as she helps him sort out semen samples in the lab.
She closes the door to the small fridge and smiles. “To watch a movie?”
He chuckles and removes his gloves. Leaning toward her he says, “I was thinking along the lines of wine and music. But if you prefer a movie . . . .”
Flor shakes her head.
“No to the movie?” Paco asks, running his hands through his thick hair.
Flor watches, mesmerized by his smooth manner.
“I don’t get it, Flor. One moment, I think you’d like to get to know me, then the next, you act like you don’t.” He steps toward her. She remains frozen, his gaze holding her in place, her eyes watching his gorgeous lips move.
What did he just say?
“Usually I can tell when a woman is attracted to me, but you, I get mixed signals.” He reaches out and runs a finger along the back of her hand.
Nope, not even a flicker of electricity. Flor looks down and doesn’t answer. But still she’s extremely attracted to him. Her panties are wet, and it’s a struggle to control her breathing.
The Argentinian draws his long finger up to her chin. “You are incredibly beautiful, Flor,” he whispers. His face inches closer to hers, his blue/gray eyes searching hers. He wants permission and a part of her is screaming to give it as much as it’s screaming for her to leave. She closes her eyes and parts her lips, knowing it won’t feel right. She wants him to realize it too.
Paco’s lips are as soft as she imagined them to be. He reaches his hand around her neck and pulls her body to him, his tongue entering and searching for more. It feels better than Flor even imagined when she lay awake touching herself, picturing him covering her body with his mouth and tongue.
All of a sudden she’s on fire. Flor reaches up, her hands on either side of his face. Their kiss deepens as his hands begin to roam, slowly unleashing the desire she’s felt since she first laid eyes on him.
The kiss feels incredible. He’s truly an expert at reading a woman. His tongue traces her lips before biting down softly on her bottom lip. The sensation travels straight down to her sex, pulsing with need. That’s what this is now. Pure, unadulterated need. He sparked it in her, and now he’s stoking the fire with every touch, every kiss.
As Paco’s lips travel down her neck, she catches their reflection in the window. The image of them together with her in his arms, makes her stop. She wrenches herself out of his embrace.
“I’ve got to go,” she whispers.
Before Paco has a chance to respond, she’s already out the door. When Flor nears the house, she stops and leans against a large magnolia tree, slides down the trunk, and hugs her knees to her chest. Flor tries to push the image of her and Paco out of her head. He’s not the one she wants. It’s Collin.
Why these men and why now? She laments. In the few short weeks she’s been here, she’s allowed herself to be consumed by longing for one and being pursued by another. Is this karma? Flor wonders. The moment she determines she doesn’t want to fall in love or become entangled in anything the universe puts not one, but two desirable men in her path. Although one doesn’t seem to want her back.
Flor stands slowly, watching bees flit from flower to flower on the low hanging branches. No one thing or person is worth the energy at this point, she resolves. She’ll do as she pleases and let the chips fall where they may.
Chapter 19
“I think I’m ready for ranch work,” Flor says to Gary later that night. He and Marjorie had invited her over for dessert—peach pie. The retired horse trainer was allotted a thin slice about the width of her pinkie, but even that has become enough to satisfy him. “Small pleasures are the keys to happiness in old age,” he offers.
“Are there any problems we should know about?” Marjorie asks. A wrinkle of concern forms in the middle of her forehead.
Flor shakes her head.
A bit too quickly, Gary observes.
“Not at all,” the young woman replies. “I feel like my time here is passing fast, and I want to make sure I get exposed to other parts of ranch life.”
That much is true, at least. As for having kissed Paco, well, that reason can remain hers alone, she figures. It’s not that they couldn’t work together after that kiss. That very hot, incredibly memorable kiss that still melts her insides when she thinks about it. But it would make it difficult, and Flor doesn’t want or need any more drama than she already has.
“What exactly did you have in mind?” Gary asks.
Flor pretends to consider her answer even though she’d already decided. “I’m happy to work the stables for a week, turn out horses, see to their care.”
“It’s dirty work,” he warns. “You sure you’re up for it?”
Marjorie looks past her shoulder obviously giving it some careful thought. After a long pause, she says to Gary, “You think Collin would take her on?”
The sound of his name makes Flor’s heart pound. She feels her face become flush as she recalls the electrifying touch of his hand.
His father chuckles. “You know our son, honey. He prefers horses to people.”
“True, but maybe it’s our fault for not helping him make more friends.” The woman turns to Flor and says, “Ranch work takes over your life. It’s not easy to make time to socialize. This place is pretty much all Collin knew outside of school.”
“He must have some friends?” Like a girlfriend perhaps?
Majorie tilts her head. “There were some, but after he came home from college, they all seemed to grow apart.”
College graduate, huh. She’s now gleaned one more piece of information about him, besides his name and his passion for horses.
Marjorie pats and rubs Gary’s back. “It won’t hurt to at least ask. Flor is our guest. He can make the effort.”
Her husband grunts. “Then you talk to him. He’s less inclined to turn down his mother.” Then he winks at Flor. “Collin was always a bit of a momma’s boy.”
Chapter 20
Flor can’t remember when she’s felt so exhausted and yet alive. Working a stable is physically demanding—much more so than she had ever imagined. The stable hands on her family’s farm made it seem effortless. They went about their chores with great ease, like putting one foot in front of another, each activity seamlessly leading to the next—grooming the horses, filling the feed bins, washing out the bins, and cleaning the stalls all before noon.
The tasks at Belo Horizonte followed a similar rhythm. No one seemed more absorbed in the work than Flor, mostly because she struggled to keep up with the other workers. Fortunately for her, they were kind enough to help when she needed, especially the old man who introduced himself as Gecimar. He appeared to be their unofficial leader since the others deferred to him. His skin was dark and weathered, his clothing traditional vaqueiro with a long-sleeve button down shirt, a red bandanna around his neck, worn jeans and tough, black leather boots with spurs.
“The shavings should be pressed down with a fork and banked up against the walls and corners,” he instructs her one afternoon in Portuñol, a mixture of Portuguese and Spanish, showing the young woman how to re-bed a stall.
How does a Brazilian cowboy end up here? She
doesn’t have much time to ponder this, the chores at the stables too demanding to leave her any room to contemplate anything but the task in front of her. Flor can’t complain. It’s kept her mind off Paco and the kiss, and more importantly, Collin. Marjorie and Gary had yet to tell Flor if their son would be willing to work with her. Since days have passed without word, she figured she had her answer. As disappointed as she was, Flor knew better than to allow it to consume her. Nine more weeks and counting . . . If it’s not meant to be . . . .
By the end of the week, Flor is running on fumes. There had been no time to rest. She’d drag herself home, shower and fall into a dreamless sleep before waking up and doing it all over again.
Late that afternoon, unconsciously, she begins to hum Desafinado, a song her father used to sing when they rode together. Flor couldn’t remember the last time she had heard the song, but the words began to come to her, as if in a dream.
The melody is broken when Gecimar approaches and, with a swift hand gesture, motions for her to take out a horse. Too tired to go through the trouble of saddling the mare, Flor mounts her to ride bareback much to the surprise of the old Brazilian.
Every muscle in Flor’s body becomes loose and relaxed. Riding always does this to her. And riding a Marchador even more so. The horse’s gait is smooth and easy, responding to the young woman’s subtle movements. They reach beyond the paddocks and continue galloping toward the hills. Neither of them wants to slow down, the horse’s need for freedom matching Flor’s own.
When they reach the lake, Flor slows the horse and dismounts to let her take some water. Flor sits by the lake’s edge, under the cool shadow of a tree, her father’s voice still singing inside her head as she hums along.
“You’re pretty far from the ranch, don’t you think?” A voice interrupts her melody once again.
She turns and shields her eyes from the sun, seeing only the silhouette of Collin on a horse. Poppy’s right about wearing a hat. Flor swallows, her throat completely dry. Her words failing to form, she nods.
Blossoming Flower (Wildflowers Book 1) Page 6
