As I rocked back and forth in the saddle, I felt a sexual arousal that I hadn’t experienced in a quite a while. The problem was I knew Kent was the only one who could quench my growing desire — now that I had seen him again. So I bit my lip and shook my head. I figured working together as a team was going to be tedious and possibly a recipe for disaster!
Chapter 6
Kent
After Rachel had left the room, I felt I could breathe easier because she was having a serious effect on me. I had to hide my boner by keeping my hands in my pockets. She was so fucking sexy and beautiful! Her hair was much longer and hung in a long braid down her back and swished back and forth over her pert ass with each step.
I had taken a quick peek as she walked out of the room, hoping it would go unnoticed. Her Booty Up Wrangler jeans made it seem like her legs went on for miles and miles. And her tits — well, let’s just say they were fuller than when she was eighteen and looked squeezable as hell. I could tell under her pink, worn out t-shirt that she was wearing a sports bra that pressed them tightly against her body. I couldn’t help but wonder what her cleavage would look like if she wore a black lace push-up bra — or for that matter, nothing at all.
I had no problem fantasizing what I would like to do with her, but I was standing right in front of her father. Sam gestured for me to sit in the leather armchair next to him, in a room full of rodeo memorabilia. “All right, what is it you didn't want to say in front of my daughter?” Sam asked, raising his bushy eyebrows.
I swallowed hard, wondering if Sam had seen how I was looking at Rachel, trying not to look at her at all. I had been around enough men to know each one of us had a second sense that alerted us when there was sexual energy in the air. After taking a moment to compose myself, I took my hat off and laid it in my lap. "I just wanted to speak man-to-man with you about working here on the ranch."
I glanced up into Sam's eyes, hoping he wouldn't misunderstand and be offended that I preferred not to talk business in front of his daughter. It wasn't that I was a prick who thought women were beneath me, but I didn't want him to sense how I felt about Rachel. Then he definitely wouldn't hire me! So, my answer was simple. “I need a job!”
Sam leaned in closer, listening, ready to detect a bullshit answer to his next question. "Why did you choose the Pitchfork Ranch? The paper is full of openings for experienced ranch hands. What's so special about working for me?" Then he paused a moment and his eyes seemed to become wider as he searched mine. "Have you applied anywhere else?"
Holy shit! I wasn't expecting those questions. I cleared my throat as I rubbed the back of my neck and hoped he would believe my half-true story. So here’s what I said: “Earlier, I told you that Chad had suggested you were looking for help, remember?" I paused for a moment, and Sam shook his head, so I continued, "But he also told me you had been sick and were depending on your daughter to help you. Being from Cody, I know keeping a good ranch hand isn't easy — they come and go. But Cody is my hometown, so I know how cold it can get here in the winter." Then I recalled Sam was a horse breeder, so I threw in a bigger load of bullshit. "And I remember how almost no one could beat your horses in barrel racing and calf roping. Someday I would like to get back to rodeoing and was hoping you might be my sponsor — allow me to showcase one of your horses.”
By the way Sam grinned and nodded his head, I could tell I had hit the right notes. He pointed up to one of many trophies, ribbons and belt buckles he had displayed on a shelf stretching across the wall. "See that one over yonder — the big one with the stars on it?” I shook my head acknowledging I did. “That's the last one I won before this god-damned disease robbed me of my strength and I had to quit competing." I was surprised when the corners of Sam's lips turned up as he continued, "But I'm still raising several winners. I got a quarter horse stud that Rachel named Licorice. Right now he’s scheduled a year in advance, breeding two mares a month, and his stud fees are one of the highest in the business."
My eyes got wide; I had no idea that Sam was that successful. "So do the mares come here, or are you talking about artificial insemination?"
Sam laughed and slapped his leg when he said, "No son. Nowadays reputable breeders don't ship their mares around the country to get bred. The vet comes every two weeks or so to collect his sperm sample and sends it to the veterinarian of the stable where the mare is. Most of them are in Texas and Colorado. They pay us fifty percent down and the other half when the mare gives birth and the foal is standing. And of course, I sell several yearlings that are born and bred here at Pitchfork Ranch.”
"Wow, that is very interesting," I told Sam, and I meant it. We sat around talking about horses, one of my favorite subjects — other than Rachel of course, but that was my secret. Then a nurse came in to give him some medicine, and after she had left, he made me an offer.
"Look Kent, as you know I need the help, and I'm willing to pay a good wage, but there is one major stipulation. I hope you understand. You must be able to work alongside my daughter. She's the one that will be showing you the ropes and overseeing your work.” Then Sam paused for a moment, and I saw a gleam in his eye, when he continued, “But I'm the one who signs your paycheck."
I nodded my head and wondered what I had gotten myself into, knowing it was too late to back out. The truth was, deep inside I wanted to try to overcome my PTSD and the anxiety and depression it caused. Sometimes the smallest thing could set me off, and I would start shaking or have a fit of anger, not to mention the flashbacks of Marcus dying in my arms with bullets zinging all around me.
As far as my situation with Rachel was concerned, I would love to start over again — give us a second chance — but I wasn’t sure if my PTSD would let me. I didn’t want to hurt her feelings or be made to look like a coward or a fool by freaking out either. So I figured the best way to handle the situation was to hide my desire for Rachel. I would respect her as my boss and coworker and pretend we didn’t have a past.
After I had agreed to Sam's offer, we sat, and he told me about each one of his horses. He had six mares, one stallion, the gelding Rachel was riding and one more for the ranch hand. We must have talked for a half hour, and I was grateful he had no more questions about my military service or why a Navy SEAL would be discharged after only eight years of service. After all, most who were good enough to make it as a SEAL made the military their career or had a deal working as a government contractor. Sam had glanced down a couple of times at my cobra tattoo, slithering down my bicep onto my forearm. I had made my mind up, though, if he asked about it, I would tell him a limited version of the truth. I didn’t want him to pity or judge me. Thank God, the subject never came up!
When we heard the grandfather clock strike nine-thirty, Sam looked up at me, and said, "Why don't you go on out to the machine barn and hitch up the mower. If you will hand me my cane and follow me out to the back porch, I'll show you where I want you to mow."
I followed Sam as he hobbled along, wincing with each step, but he had a smile on his face when he got there. He held up his cane and used it as a pointer to direct me. "Now, you see that metal gate over yonder, not far from that stand of pines?”
"Affirmative, sir,” I reported. For a moment I had a flashback of our survival training up in Washington State. Something about those tall ponderosa pines brought back a memory of the time I was placed in a covered pit and left there in the cold for two days with bugs crawling all over me. When I peered up, all I could see was pine trees. So I had concentrated on how they were rustling in the breeze to keep me from screaming in terror. Then I swallowed hard and brought my thoughts back to the present, and said, "Yes, sir. I see the gate you're talking about."
"Why don't you go over to the machine barn. It’s that one right there.” He turned and poked his cane in the air at a white metal building. "Now, I figure you know this, but I'm going to go over it anyway. Don't use the bush hog, use the sickle mower and watch your turning radius. That there sickle on the side can be a pro
blem when it comes to turning and backing up."
I shook my head, and said, "Thanks for telling me. It's been a while since I mowed a field of hay."
Sam smiled and clapped me on the back. "Go on now and get the mowing done because this afternoon I want you and Rachel to clean out the stable."
I went down the steps and started walking in the general direction of the barn when I heard Sam holler. "The key to the tractor is hanging on a nail over the workbench there in the shop. You can't miss it. Oh, and lunch will be ready around twelve thirty."
My breath hitched. Did that mean I would have to eat lunch with Rachel? It took less than two seconds for me to turn and face Sam, catching him before he went back inside. I told him, “Thanks for the offer to have lunch but I packed my own — it’s in the truck with my chaps and spurs.” Sam nodded and waved, and I went on about doing what I was told. But just knowing I would have to work around Rachel later in the day, I could already feel the anxiety rising in my chest.
I hitched up the mower to the big green John Deere and wondered how the hell Rachel could muster the strength to do all this by herself. By the time I had backed the tractor out and headed toward the hay field, I saw Rachel off in the distance, riding back toward the house. I could see she was looking straight at me; she even raised her hand and waved. But I lowered my head like I didn’t see her and pushed the throttle on the tractor up a notch or two. As the tractor and mower cleared the area between the fence post and open gate I was trying to convince myself she was just my boss and I should forget about our past — for the good of both of us.
Chapter 7
Rachel
After seeing how he paid me no attention, I vowed to myself Kent Walker was going to notice me! So after finishing lunch with Daddy and Sally, I decided to exchange my baggy t-shirt for something more alluring. Before I started upstairs, I kissed Daddy on the cheek, and said, "Cleaning the stable is a hot job, so I think I'll put on a tube top and maybe I'll get some sun on my shoulders." Daddy nodded, more interested in the news on the TV about the damage done by a severe thunderstorm. But Sally glanced over with a sideways smile, and I figured she knew what I was thinking. I ran upstairs and peered out my bedroom window. I could see Kent below outside of the barn pushing a wheelbarrow of wood chips.
Noticing how his muscles rippled under his tight t-shirt and how his back tapered toward his slim waist making a perfect v-shape, I pulled on a sports bra and my old pink t-shirt over my head. The cool breeze from the ceiling fan had stimulated my sensitive nipples, and I could feel that warm, electrical sensation building at the base of my spine. There was no doubt in my mind I wanted Kent inside me, but I knew that in the long run just having sex would not be good enough. He and I had been soulmates one summer before our senior year, and I wanted to have that same relationship again — but this time as mature adults.
By that time, Kent had dumped the wood chips in a pile behind the stable and was heading back inside. I peered wantonly at his body, and my eyes were fixed on how his tight jeans fit around the bulge under his belt buckle. One thing I had learned soon after high school even though I was known to be a bookworm, was that a sexual climax felt good and it relieved tension. So I had learned how to pleasure myself by reading and experimenting with my body.
I had to admit while I was standing there watching Kent, I got caught up in my desire and began massaging my breasts. At first, it tickled a bit as I ran my fingertips around my large brown areolae, but moments later I started tugging at my hard nipples, and a moan escaped my parted lips. I was about to orgasm just stimulating my nipples and fantasizing about how it would feel to have Kent's hard cock inside me.
My hands fluttered down to my belt buckle, and I unfastened it. The need to quench my desire was rising, and my breaths started to come in hitches. My hands couldn't move fast enough to unzip my jeans and reach inside my white panties. As I slipped my hand under the elastic band and ran my fingers through the dark curls over my mound, my hips started rocking. My clit was begging for my attention. Just as I started parting my swollen lips, I heard Daddy's voice at the bottom of the stairs. "You okay up there?"
I swallowed hard, cleared my throat, and said, "Yes, Daddy. I was just in the bathroom. I'll be down in a minute." I zipped up my jeans and pulled on my red tube top and blew a lock of hair out of my face. I didn't want to alert Daddy to what my plan was, so I slipped a flannel shirt over my shoulders.
When I got down to the stable, I walked over to Kent and placed one hand on my hip. I thrust out my chest, knowing my nipples were still hard, and let my flannel shirt fall open before I said, "Looks like you’re doing a great job Kent, let me get the water hose and help ya."
Kent let go of the handles on the wheelbarrow and gazed over at me. He didn't try to hide how he was looking me up and down. I was sure I saw a glimmer of desire in his eyes when he shifted his weight and adjusted his cowboy hat. Then with a bored tone in his voice, he said, "I'm finished with all five stalls on this side." He gestured inside the stable to where he had been working, then pushed the full wheelbarrow away.
I stared at his back for a moment then walked toward the water spigot and picked up the hose. While I brushed and squirted the floors, I could hear Kent walking behind me making trip after trip with the wheelbarrow. I couldn't help but feel hurt, and I wondered what had happened to the Kent Walker I used to know. I figured he must have found someone else and had lost interest in me.
Moments later as I unraveled the hose so I could pull it further inside the stable, I head Daddy holler at me from the back porch. "How are things going out there?" I smiled and waved, and Kent must have heard him too because he gave him the thumbs-up signal.
I wasn't sure how much Kent had told Daddy and wondered if he knew more about what was going on with Kent than I did, but I didn't want to raise suspicions by asking. I could see the two of them were getting along and seemed to be developing a healthy working relationship.
After we had finished cleaning out the stable and Georgie-B had returned to his clean stall, Kent turned to me. "I'm going to feed the horses and start cleaning the tack," he said.
I nodded in agreement, glad that Kent was proactive without me have to test his responsiveness to my role as his boss. But I was curious, so before he got too far away, I asked, “Kent where are you living now that your folks have moved away?”
He turned, scowling, and asked, “How did you know about my parents?”
I almost laughed but was afraid I would hurt his feelings. “I heard about it from Sally. She knew your mother, and it came out in conversation a long time ago.”
“Oh,” Kent said, as he turned to go about his business. Then over his shoulder, he finally answered my question. “I live in a campground in Meeteetse.”
“It’s quiet…” I didn’t say another word because he was walking out of earshot.
My arms ached from all the work I had been doing. So I sat down on the trunk in the tack room — the one Daddy had used when he was still rodeoing. I picked up the copy of Gone with the Wind I had left there from the day before. I often read when I took a break. So I leaned back against the wooden wall, pulled my knees up to my chest and opened the book. Since my assignment to write an essay on Margret Mitchell’s themes for my online course was due in a week, I needed to finish the last few chapters.
I had barely started before I heard footfalls and Kent appeared at the door carrying Georgie's show saddle, the can of saddle soap stuffed inside his pocket. Daddy had asked Kent to clean the tack covered with silver plating. I wondered why all the sudden he was concerned about polishing tack no one used. All Georgie's rodeo show items had been carefully stored for years in the trunk and looked as good as new.
Kent stopped in his tracks when he saw me, and I thought I noticed a moment of panic in his eyes. Then he walked over and placed the saddle on a stand and began rubbing the soap into the leather. I couldn't help but stare at him and noticed a musky masculine scent was filling the room. His
voice was deep when he asked, "You still read?"
"I haven't been able to kick the habit," I replied, feeling my cheeks flush — hope rising. Were we about to break through our icy awkwardness, I wondered? "I'm taking an online course —”
"Still the same bookworm, just like back in high school," Kent said with no inflection in his voice. I could feel the corners of my mouth draw down. Did he believe my yearning for knowledge was a useless habit I hadn't outgrown?
I could feel my anger building. "I'm sorry my thirst for knowledge offends you, Kent." As soon as the words left my lips, I regretted it. I wanted to help not feed his anger with my frustration. Kent turned and fixed his sparkling green eyes on me. I stared back at him as the heat rose in my cheeks.
“I have no reason to be offended by you, Rachel. I was just making an observation.”
“I didn’t mean it like that, I’m sorry,” I was quick to reply, in a soft pleading voice. I felt my eyes begin to sting as Kent turned back to his work.
A Distant Heart: A Contemporary Western Page 4
