Prairie Desire (Cowboys of The Flint Hills #2)

by Tessa Layne

  He brushed his mouth across hers, savoring her sweetness. He’d give her a little time, but there was no way he’d hide their relationship indefinitely.

  CHAPTER 13

  Hope pressed her hands inside Ben’s jacket, running her hands over his tight muscles, and letting herself get lost in their kiss. It would be so easy to give in and let herself fall head over heels for him again. Especially with the way her body tingled when he touched her.

  But she was older. Wiser. More wary. And she had baggage that, in spite of what Ben had said, she needed to carry on her own. At least until she came up with a new career path. One that didn’t involve her relying on her family for work.

  Thank goodness he’d agreed to keep things quiet for the time being. She wasn’t sure what she’d have done if he hadn’t agreed. The last thing she needed was more nosy questions from her brothers, or her family to suddenly start hating the Sinclaires again. She just wanted a moment to… savor whatever it was that was blossoming between her and Ben. She opened her mouth and let his tongue sweep against hers. A familiar ache began to build again in her core. How in the hell was she supposed to keep her brothers from finding out about Ben when she turned into a puddle the second he touched her?

  Regretfully, she broke the kiss. “We’ll spend time together again soon, won’t we?”

  “I always have time for you, Hope.”

  “Don’t say things like that.”

  His brows came together. “Why not? It’s the truth.”

  “I… this… scares me.”

  A teasing light came to life in Ben’s eyes. “You’ve never been afraid of anything, Hope. You were always the toughest girl on the playground.”

  “Well, I grew up.” She toed the ground with her boot, the look in his eyes suddenly making her uncomfortable. Like he could see right to the deepest part of her.

  “Hey,” he tilted up her chin.

  Slowly, she raised her eyes, heart thumping wildly.

  “We can take this as slow as you like, babe. I promise I won’t ask you to marry me… yet.” He said the ‘yet’ with laughter in his voice.

  She socked him in the arm. “Don’t fuck with me.” Relief and laughter mingled in her answer.

  He brushed her lips once, before stepping back. She felt the loss of him immediately. “I won’t fuck with you, but I’d very much like to fuck you again.”

  This time, her laughter was immediate. “You dirty man.” She gave him what she hoped was a smoldering look. “Play your cards right, and you might. C’mon.” She grabbed his elbow and started walking again toward the buildings. “Have you ever been to our property?”

  “Brodie and I shared one of the bunkhouses down by the barn when Maddie got married so we could house additional guests.” He gave her a sidelong glance, coupled with a very sexy smile. “But I’d love you to give me your personal tour.”

  “You just want to see where I sleep, don’t you?”

  He waggled his eyebrows at her. “Maybe.”

  Hope dropped Ben’s arm and jammed her hands deep into Axel’s coat pockets as soon as she saw her brothers standing against the tall fencing they’d built to house Buttercup, the mustang. Millie Prescott was with them. Millie was a few years older than she was and owned the local organic grocery. She was soft-spoken, dressed like a hippie, and was one of those people you instantly loved. Was Millie interested in one of her brothers?

  They approached the fencing and stepped up onto the bottom rung. Mustangs were a flight risk with traditional fencing until they were gentled. So before going to auction, her brothers had constructed a new corral, complete with an open-air shelter. It would be awhile before Buttercup could be stabled.

  Sliding up next to Axel, Hope studied the horse. “How’s she going?”

  Axel eyed her, taking in his coat. “Nice coat.”

  Hope winked. “Thanks for the loaner. I made sure to wear my favorite perfume.”

  Axel grunted. “You’ll pay.”

  “Ha. We’ll see about that.” She cocked her chin toward the horse, who was quietly munching hay on the far side of the corral.

  “Time’s running out for us. If we can’t get her to accept a halter soon, we might as well withdraw from the Mustang Makeover. She won’t be gentled in time.”

  Hope zeroed in on the horse. She was a beautiful Palomino. At the very least, she’d make good breeding stock, but like most farmers and ranchers, Axel and Gunnar were always looking for ways to diversify income. If her brothers could expand their training operation to include Mustangs, there’d be good money. But it didn’t look like it was going so well at the moment. “So what happens when you get in the corral with her?”

  Gunnar spoke up. “Same thing every time. Doesn’t matter if it’s me or Axe. She doesn’t trust us yet. Won’t let us get closer than about ten feet.”

  Indecision fell over Hope. She was overcome with the urge to show up her brothers, and maybe show off a little in front of Ben, but she didn’t want to get sucked into becoming another cog at Hansen Stables. Not that her brothers or father considered her a cog. They had a stellar reputation in the region. One she didn’t want to tarnish. And the possibility for that weighed on her.

  But at the end of the day, she wanted her independence. The men in her family continued to try and boss her, out of habit now more than anything. The only way they’d see her as more than a dutiful daughter or sister was if she struck out on her own.

  In the end, the desire to show off won out. “Where’s the halter? I’ll give it a go.”

  Gunnar’s eyes lit up. “Have at it.” He tossed her the halter he’d been holding.

  Hope caught it and turned it in her hands. An idea came to her. She offered it back to Gunnar. “Actually, I’m going to try something different. Why not just give me the line for now?”

  Gunnar looked at her funny. “Are you nuts?”

  She shrugged. “Yeah, probably. I want to try something I learned in vet school. Open the gate, will you?”

  Axel and Ben pulled open the gate and let her in. Buttercup’s head came up and she stood still.

  For the first few minutes, Hope slowly walked along the edge of the pen, letting the horse adjust to her presence. Then, keeping her eyes focused on the horse’s, Hope approached, making kissing noises, raising her arms, shaking the line, and keeping it looped in her hand closest to the horse. Giving a little start, the horse began to trot along the outside of the circle. Hope kept her eyes on Buttercup’s, all the while shooing the horse by walking a little off her flank and continuing to let her run around the ring, four, five, then six times. Then Hope stepped forward and switched the rope to her other hand. Without making more noise than the kissing sounds or slapping her thighs, she got the horse to turn the other direction.

  Hope could hear the group murmuring behind her, but she kept her eyes squarely on Buttercup, continuing to encourage her to circle. When the horse had circled another five times, Hope switched the rope, raised her hands and stepped forward, turning the horse.

  They went on this way, circling the ring in different directions until Buttercup snorted and started to slow, lowering her head and licking her lips. Hope maintained eye contact and let her slow, but didn’t let her stop or change direction.

  Hope stepped forward, arms still high, and spread her fingers. The horse sped up again, and she could hear hushed sounds coming from the group. Buttercup’s head dropped, and Hope closed her hand into a fist, lowering it and slowing her own pace, allowing the horse to come to a walk. Buttercup licked her lips and chewed, but Hope kept her walking. Once, twice more around the circle, never losing eye contact with Buttercup.

  Now was the moment of reckoning. Would the horse come to her? Hope couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt this calm. This focused. She stepped forward, turned her back to the horse and stopped. Buttercup stopped too. A little breeze danced by, caressing her face. Birds sung in the distance, but the only sounds she focused on were that of her breathing and Butt
ercup’s. Shutting her eyes for an instant and drawing calm from deep inside, she turned, opening her shoulder to the horse, and keeping her eyes averted, crossed in front of Buttercup and paused.

  Buttercup followed. Hope fought to keep the excitement from overwhelming her. Her calm presence was critical in these next moments. Buttercup stopped an arm’s length away. Still keeping her eyes averted, she slowly raised the back of her hand, pausing just in front of the horse’s nose, then slowly reaching up to scratch Buttercup’s forehead. The horse welcomed her touch.

  Joy at their communion surged through Hope. She slowly withdrew her hand and turned away, purposefully striding toward the center of the ring. Buttercup followed. Again, Hope stopped and opened to the horse, slowly reaching to give her another pet on the forehead.

  “Hey there, mama. You’re a sweet thing aren’t you?” Hope clicked and turned, walking across the arena in the other direction, stopping after several paces. Buttercup kept pace with her.

  This time, Hope extended her pets to include Buttercup’s neck. “Such a good girl. I can see, we’re gonna be friends.” She kept her voice low and soft.

  The excited voices of her brothers drifted across the ring. Not wanting to spook the horse, she stepped away and walked toward the gate. Buttercup followed and stopped when Hope did. Ben and Axel opened the gate, and she slipped out. The looks of surprise and admiration on their faces said it all. Pride surged through her.

  “How in the hell did you do that, Hope?” Gunnar’s voice registered shock.

  “Really impressive, Hope,” added Ben.

  “It’s called joining. I’ve only ever done it a few times, and only with trained horses. It’s a technique called Equus they showed us at a workshop in vet school my second year. Said it would make doctoring a much gentler process.” A pang of loss snaked through her.

  “I’ve heard of it,” Ben chimed in.

  “I always thought it was a bunch of mumbo-jumbo,” Axel chimed in. “I mean, we train using gentle methods, but that’s a whole new level.”

  “Maybe now you’ll have a different opinion.”

  “Let’s see how you do with Buttercup,” Gunnar said.

  “Is that a challenge?” Hope’s chin went up a notch as she narrowed her vision on her brothers.

  “We’ll let you keep any prize money,” Axel offered, glancing at Gunnar for confirmation.

  “What’s the purse?”

  “Twenty-five K,” answered Gunnar. “Plus the option to auction the horse.”

  Ben whistled.

  Holy smokes. Twenty-five thousand dollars would pay off a chunk of her student loans. She nodded. “Fine. I’ll do it.” Excitement rushed through Hope. Maybe being in the ring with a horse would be what she needed to move beyond her failures in veterinary school.

  “You were great in there, Hope,” Millie offered shyly.

  “Thanks, Millie. What brings you out this morning?”

  Millie brushed an unruly blonde curl out of her eyes. “The Posse is planning an Irish-themed shower for Jamey O’Neill, Brodie’s fiancée. I’m helping Martha with the planning… and I have eggs to deliver to the hunting lodge.”

  Jamey and Brodie ran a hunting lodge near the old Sinclaire homestead. Hope hadn’t seen it yet, but everyone in town raved about Jamey’s food.

  “Great. Can I catch a ride back with you, Millie?” Ben asked.

  Hope glanced sharply at Ben, a tongue of jealousy licking through her. “I thought you wanted a tour?” She tried to keep the note of disappointment out of her voice.

  Ben’s face remained neutral. “I should take a raincheck. I’ve got to get back to work myself.”

  Ouch.

  Hope swallowed and nodded, fighting the chagrin that dropped through her gut like a stone. Served her right for insisting they keep things quiet. “Sure thing. Catch you later.” She turned away so she didn’t have to watch the two of them hike up the hill together talking like old friends. Jealousy slithered through her, taking root low in her belly. I bet Millie doesn’t have baggage. A little voice rang in her head. You weren’t good enough for him eight years ago. What makes you think you are now?

  Ugh.

  She gave herself a little shake. Ben was interested, and he had her cell phone number. They’d find time to see each other again in a few days. In the meantime, she needed to Google everything she could on gentling mustangs. She had twenty-five thousand dollars to win.

  CHAPTER 14

  Hope paced her bedroom, restlessly wrapping her worn terrycloth robe more tightly around herself. It had been eight days since she and Ben had spent the best night of her life together. Eight days where she’d suddenly become attached to her phone. Eight days where she’d stopped by the tree house, even though the weather had turned cold, looking for a sign of Ben. And…. nothing. Not a peep. No text, no phone call.

  Nada.

  Sure, she’d seen him, what… three times during the week? Not that she was counting. She wasn’t. There had been two bonfires over at the Sinclaire spread, and Ben had been polite. Sweet, even. But he’d always sat on the other side of the fire and she’d had to content herself with stealing glances at him when she thought no one was looking.

  He’d come down to the paddock one afternoon and watched her working with Buttercup. But again, no innuendo and no touches. Certainly no kisses. She felt like she’d been shot back in a time machine to age seventeen. Adding up every glance, every word, and hoping it summed up to something equaling interest.

  She was an idiot. She’d had her chance and blown him off. Why? Because she’d been afraid of the gossip. Of the looks… mostly.

  Who was she kidding? She’d kept him at arm’s length because it was always better to be the dumper than the dumpee. But where had that landed her?

  Home alone.

  On a Friday night.

  Her brothers had left for the Trading Post hours ago. Even her parents had retired to bed. And here she was, pacing the floor in her gaudy pink bedroom with no one for company except tattered pictures of Kenny Chesney, Brad Paisley, and Rascal Flatts on the wall – just to name a few.

  She grabbed her laptop and flopped down on her bed. Might as well make use of her time and do a little more research into natural horsemanship. She’d discovered this week there were many methods, often employing similar tactics of round-pen training and, most importantly, paying attention to the physical cues of the horse. She’d been trained by her father and brothers to always pay attention to the horses’ demeanor, but this took their work a step further. She liked it and could already see where she’d unknowingly made mistakes when she’d trained Phyllis all those years ago.

  Just this afternoon, Buttercup had accepted a halter. Hope had been thrilled about it, and at the same time, wished Ben had been there to share in the moment. It was silly of her to expect he’d be there for a milestone like that. He never had before, and he had his own work on his own ranch to tend to. But somehow, she found herself longing to share her success with him. And stubbornly, she didn’t want to text him. She’d never pictured him as a player. He’d always seemed too nice. But maybe she didn’t know him after all, because he hadn’t seemed like the type to engage in a one-night stand either.

  Hope sighed heavily. No use in picking her thoughts to pieces. She pulled up the website she had bookmarked with training videos and plugged in her earbuds. Three videos later, her phone buzzed on her bedside table. She reached for it. Probably her brothers needing a sober ride home. A thousand jackrabbits started thumping against her ribs when she read it.

  B: It’s Ben. You up?

  She quickly typed back.

  H: No. I’m asleep with rag curlers in my hair.

  B: Oooh. Very sexy.

  H: Lol. That’s me. S.E.X.Y.

  B: Yes, you are :) Can I see?

  H: Hell no. I don’t share my beauty secrets with anyone.

  B: I’m not anyone

  Hope snorted out a laugh and settled further into her pillows. “No, y
ou’re definitely not just anyone.” What should she write next? She wasn’t skilled at flirting via text. Her phone buzzed again.

  B: Are you home?

  Sadly. But admitting that would make her sound pathetic.

  H: Yes.

  She paused a moment before hitting send. God, she was such a loser. But she couldn’t help it. The Trading Post just wasn’t her thing. Sure, she’d go on occasion, but she always came home drained. She was much happier spending time by herself in the tree house, riding, or even daydreaming on her bed.

  Almost immediately, Ben texted back.

  B: Are you in your room?

  H: Yes. Why?

  B: Is your light on?

  Where the hell was he? She was entering another text when she heard a clatter at the window, like little pebbles. Then she heard it again. What on earth? She swung off the bed and, placing her laptop on her vanity, walked to the window and peered out. Another round of pebbles hit the glass. She raised the window and leaned out, whispering frantically. “Ben? Is that you?”

  He stepped out of the shadows and looked up at her, palms open.

  “What in the hell are you doing throwing rocks at my window?” she hissed, hoping her parents were already fast asleep.

  He grinned up at her. “Can I come up?”

  She rolled her eyes. “Do you realize what time it is?” She already knew what her answer would be. How could she say no when he looked so devastatingly handsome staring up at her?

  He stepped over to the rose trellis that covered the end of the front porch and tested the bottom beam.

  “Are you nuts?” her voice rose in panic. “That hasn’t been climbed in years. You’ll fall.”

  Ben’s eyes gleamed in the porch light. “Shhh. I’ll be fine. And it’s not that far to fall.” Bracing a foot against the corner of the house, he quickly scaled the trellis, only cursing once. In a moment, he was on the porch roof. He looked over to her expectantly. “Now what?”

  She let out a breath, half amused, half scared. “This is the hard part. You have to balance one hand on the gutter and kick your foot out to the sill. Then pull yourself across.”