Petunia made a sort of whuffling sound and edged closer to her stall door, swinging her muzzle toward him and nudging his shoulder. He accommodated the request by stroking her neck.
“Sure, sure,” he said, “flirt with me now. But the first second I do something you don’t like, we both know who is getting tossed to the curb, don’t we?”
He swore she bobbed her head in agreement, which made him smile despite himself. Probably just rubbing at his hand, but he couldn’t help but think she had an understanding of what he was talking about.
He ran his hand along her neck, toward her haunches. “Just don’t embarrass me in front of the teacher, here, and I promise I’ll bring you a carrot or something next time, deal?”
Petunia shuffled her feet, nudged him again.
“What, you don’t like carrots? I thought that was a horse thing.”
She stepped back, shook her head so her mane tossed, and nickered. If he didn’t know better, he’d swear they were actually communicating. Which was ridiculous, of course. But there was something about those huge chocolate-brown eyes, and the way she looked at him…He shook his head. Crazy.
Petunia stamped her front feet a bit impatiently, and took a few steps back.
“So, what, I have to guess now? Flowers? Chocolate? What’s it going to take? Dinner and a movie?”
“I see you two are getting acquainted.” Elena walked up carrying a long length of coiled rope with a heavy clasp on one end, and what he supposed was the halter that went around Petunia’s head on the other. “We’re going to slip the halter on first.” She hung the rope over the horse’s neck and handed him the green nylon halter.
“I thought you said ‘we.’”
She smiled. “We, as in, I’ll explain how to do it while you slip it on and fasten it. From the looks of things, you already have Petunia half smitten with you anyway, so I don’t think this is going to be a big trial for you.”
So, she’d been watching his lame attempts to woo the damn horse. He wondered if she’d overheard what he was saying, too. Refusing to be embarrassed, he took the halter from her and studied the arrangement of the nylon straps. “I’m guessing this end slips over the head first?”
Elena nodded. “Then you snap it together there,” she said, pointing to a metal locking mechanism on the side. “You adjust it here,” she added, pointing to the buckles on either side.
“Isn’t there supposed to be a bar or something that goes in the mouth?”
“That’s a bridle, but you won’t be needing one of those today. This is enough.” She opened the stall door and stepped inside with Petunia, then motioned him in as well.
“Shouldn’t we walk her out here where there’s more room?”
“There are some common safety procedures you should always be aware of when you’re around any horse, but you’ll have to be in a stall with them from time to time, so best to understand tight quarters as well as open. Petunia is very easygoing, but don’t get lax just because she likes you.”
Elena said that last part with almost a slight air of resentment, though with some dry amusement thrown in as well to temper any actual attitude. So, she hadn’t expected him to make such fast friends, which meant she wasn’t going to make this easy on him. Although, to be fair, the horse she picked was clearly not a handful, so she wasn’t trying to get him maimed or killed, either. Or scare him into thinking he might be. In fact, he couldn’t quite figure her out. But it was only their first session. He had time.
She went through a quick rundown of how to move around a horse, where not to go, where not to stand—which mostly had to do with the rear feet—as well as being careful of horses who can swing their heads around and try and nip at you. He’d looked at Petunia when Elena had made that comment, and he swore the horse gave him an innocent “who, me?” blink.
After a quick demo of her instructions, he stepped into the stall beside her. Despite the fact that the interior of the stall was roomy, they all seemed crowded into the front corner by the stall door, which, despite Petunia’s relaxed manner at the moment, did little to smooth over his reservations about this whole thing.
He lifted the halter, but Elena blocked the move with her hand. “You’re not through making friends yet.”
“What?”
“You just invaded her personal space. Never do this unless invited or instructed to do so by me or one of the stable hands, okay?”
“Why is it I think this isn’t standard procedure?”
“You don’t feel comfortable around big animals. I’m adjusting your lessons accordingly.”
“What makes you think that? About the large animals?” It was completely true, mostly because he’d simply never been around any. The neighborhood he’d grown up in was big on rats, the occasional stray dog, but that was about it. Still, he hadn’t thought he’d telegraphed that in any real way. Well, other than his overt lack of enthusiasm for being up close and personal with Petunia. But that was just being smart. She was a whole lot of horse.
“Body language,” Elena replied. “You’re doing fine, actually, but you’re not entirely comfortable, which is understandable. The more you’re around horses and get used to the spatial differences between you two, and become comfortable with—while not losing respect for—her power and size, the more swiftly you’ll progress. Remember, I said it was about trust. And that goes both ways. If you’re tentative, in manner or movement, she’ll sense it and react to it.”
Elena beckoned him closer, but Petunia chose that moment to shift her feet a little, so he stayed just inside the closed stall door. “Seems to me we’d all be more comfortable out in the aisle. Shouldn’t I earn her trust a bit more before we get this…intimate?”
Elena smiled and he thought he caught a flicker of…something else before she quickly looked back at the horse. And that something else, if he wasn’t mistaken, had been a purely female reaction. He hadn’t intended the double entendre and he almost wished he hadn’t noticed her reaction. She might not be his type, but she did rather command a person’s attention. Clearly she’d gotten his. He’d told himself he was only thinking about her night and day because he’d been doing research. He’d also told himself that he’d made the ultimate sacrifice of getting on horseback because that had been the only way to earn her trust enough to get her to talk freely. Strictly doing his job. Going above and beyond, even.
Standing here now, listening to her voice, which managed to be both soothing and no-nonsense, and looking into eyes that were quick to crinkle at the corners, yet easily held his own when challenged…yeah, he was finding his rationale a little harder to hang on to.
His body was finding it even more difficult. But he was a man, after all, so he could hardly be faulted for noticing things like how her braided hair swung halfway down to her ass, or how, when she reached up to stroke Petunia’s neck, it pulled the backs of her overalls just tight enough across her hips to showcase that very same ass in what was a surprisingly flattering way.
But he didn’t need her looking at him as if she was thinking any of those same things in return. Temptation, in this case, was not a good thing. He had enough to handle just trying not to get stomped on by a thousand pounds of horseflesh. Not to mention that he was, in fact, here to do a job. He couldn’t afford to be noticing things, or noticing her noticing things, either.
“Keep doing what you were before,” she instructed, motioning to the horse. “Rub your hand down her neck, along her flank.”
And all he could think, looking at the amused spark in Elena’s eyes, was what it would be like to run his hands along her long, lean flanks.
Trying like hell to rid his mind of that little visual, he stepped closer and reached out once again to stroke Petunia’s neck. She swung her head around, and though he instinctively shifted his shoulder back out of reach of her mouth, he left his hand on her neck. “Easy now,” he said quietly. “It’s true, I have no idea what I’m doing, which you have undoubtedly figured out, but my i
ntentions are honorable.”
Petunia made a snorting noise, and he could have sworn he heard Elena swallow a similar noise. He didn’t dare look at her, though. This entire experience was proving humbling enough as it was.
“So, how about I promise to try not to hurt you. And you don’t take a chunk out of my shoulder when I’m not looking. Deal?”
Petunia’s ears flickered, but, all in all, she didn’t seem all that interested in his proposition.
“Just keep at it,” Elena coached. “She’ll get used to the sound of your voice, to your touch, your scent.”
Jesus, she was trying to kill him. Shifting to accommodate the sudden lack of room in his khakis, he kept his focus on the horse. “Scent?” he asked, damning the slight roughness of his voice. Did she have any idea the effect she was having on him? Probably not. He didn’t even fully understand it. But tell that to the rest of him, which was having no problem at all responding to her. Think about the horse, he schooled himself. And only the horse. Not about touching Elena, stroking those long legs, and finding out what her scent was like. Would she be sweet? Musky?
“Everyone has a distinct smell, their own natural scent,” she said.
He might have groaned a little. If she said one word about taste, he wouldn’t be held accountable for his actions.
“And that scent is layered with shampoo scents, soap scents, laundry scents. And then there are other things, like smoke, alcohol—”
“I don’t smoke. And I don’t plan on drinking and riding, so—”
“I wasn’t saying those things were necessarily bad, just that she’ll come to know your scent and identify it with you. She may sense you coming before she even sees you, just by the cologne you wear.”
“I don’t wear cologne,” he said.
She glanced at him, looking briefly surprised. “You don’t?”
Which meant, he gathered, that she’d smelled him. Wonderful. This was turning into one big pheromone fest. And they hadn’t even gotten the horse out of the damn stall yet. “Just the regular laundry and shower stuff.” And how in the hell had they gotten into this, anyway? He was supposed to be finding out more about her, not the other way around.
“Hmm,” she said, looking mildly embarrassed, but smiling all the same. “Remind me to ask what detergent or shampoo you use, then. Smells nice.”
His body leapt in response to her softly spoken compliment, urging him to do something—anything—about it. Hard to keep telling himself she wasn’t his type when the sexual tension between them was clouding the stall in a thick fog.
Petunia took that moment to nod her head and whinny softly. It might have just meant she was suffering from a sudden lack of attention, but it looked like she was agreeing with Elena about his scent, which made Elena laugh. It was a rich, full-bodied sound that invited a person to join in, and brought an unbidden smile to his face.
“Well, at least I’m doing something right,” he said, not wanting to be charmed by her. Needing not to be. Despite Mac’s suggestions—and his own body’s response—to the contrary, he had rules about how he did his job. Rules that didn’t include getting involved with his subjects.
“You’re doing pretty well, actually,” she responded.
He was pretty sure she meant with the horse, but neither of them was looking at Petunia. “You sound almost surprised by that.”
She lifted a shoulder. “Maybe. A little bit. As I said before, for a guy who wants to learn to ride, you just don’t seem all that excited about the actual prospect of being around a horse. And it’s hard to ride one without encountering that minor detail.”
“I suppose I thought it would be like signing up for a trail ride at a vacation resort. You line up, climb on a horse, and meander along a bit until you figure it out. I thought I would be coming down here, hoisting myself up, and trotting around the ring a few times while you told me how to do it right. I guess I didn’t realize there would be so much more to it.” Or you. “I didn’t think—”
“That maybe the horse cared who climbed on its back?”
“Well, they’re used to it, aren’t they? Does it really matter who climbs on once they get used to being ridden?”
“They’re highly sentient creatures. It matters.”
“I didn’t mean any disrespect.”
“Tell that to Petunia.” Her lips curved then, and the dry smile put them back on an even keel.
“I already promised her carrots. At this rate, she’ll have me catering meals.”
“Apples.”
“Excuse me?”
“Her favorite treat. Preferably Granny Smith. Take a bite, then give it to her.”
“Whole?”
Elena nodded. “No cooking or catering required.” Then she grinned. “She probably won’t even hold you to the movie offer.”
He swore he felt his cheeks warm slightly. “Thanks. I’ll, uh, keep that in mind.”
She shrugged. “Just trying to give you an edge.”
“I need an edge?”
Her grin turned a shade wry. “Maybe you’re not used to needing one. But it wouldn’t hurt your chances.”
“What you’re saying is, that women aren’t all that different, no matter the species. So when you come calling, have something in hand.”
Her eyes twinkled. “It certainly never hurts.”
And how was it he’d never noticed the light scatter of freckles across the bridge of her nose? Their implied innocence was so at odds with her knowing eyes and full-bodied laugh. But then, she was a study in contradictions when it came to his reaction to her. What was one more thing?
Somehow they’d come to stand closer to one another than he’d realized. She was stroking Petunia’s neck, and their fingers accidentally brushed across one another. She pulled her hand away, and stepped back. Other than that flash of embarrassment when she’d mentioned noticing his scent, it was the first time he’d seen uncertainty in her expression or demeanor.
“Okay, enough fraternizing,” she said, and he wasn’t sure if she meant him with the horse…or the two of them with each other. She nodded toward the halter. “Time to get that on her if we’re going to get anything else done today.”
“You’re the one who insisted on me making friends first.”
“Here, take the rope.” She handed him the end with the clasp. “Then you’re going to loop the rope over her neck and hook it, making a loose collar and leash, to give you some control over her movement while you put the halter on.”
She moved behind his shoulder and reached past him to show him how to work the rope and slip it around the base of the horse’s neck. He was paying attention, but he was also noticing that she had a nice scent, too. Dammit.
“Now, transfer the rope to your other hand, and carefully slip this end over Petunia’s muzzle.” She turned the halter so it was facing the right direction, but keeping it in his hand.
He felt himself leaning closer, breathing in her scent. Which was dangerous, given his current state of mind—and khakis, but an impulse he seemed helpless to curb. She was wearing overalls that had seen better days. Months, even. And by rights she should smell like a barn. Only she didn’t. And, standing this close, he noticed how smooth and soft-looking her skin was. For someone working such a physical job, exposed to the sun and wind, he’d expect her to look a bit more…weathered. Then there were those freckles sprinkled across the tip of her nose. They were cute, and she wasn’t the cute type. She was no-nonsense and wore her confidence as easily as she did those ancient overalls. What she was not was freckles and soft skin and a slightly lush bottom lip that just begged a man to taste it. Bite it. Just a little.
“Confused?”
If she only knew. He turned just as she went to lean in to move his hand on the harness. The result was his nose, buried in her hair, right where he’d wanted it moments ago, and knew he had no business leaving it. He should be immediately backing up, putting the appropriate space back between them. In his mind, that’s exact
ly what he did. In reality, though, he took full advantage of the accidental contact and breathed in the scent that was all Elena.
And, he belatedly realized, she was letting him.
Of course, she was more or less trapped between him and a whole lot of horse, but she could have shifted away, or given any signal that she wasn’t enjoying the incidental moment of intimacy.
Like he was.
Even then, his strategic, work-mode brain didn’t kick in. The one that should be telling him to use the moment to his advantage. It was true, he didn’t use sex or seduction as a means to an end, but he didn’t rule out a little flirting. It was a very human, natural form of communication that men and women did on street corners and in elevators every day. Done properly, it lowered defenses and put a potential contact at ease. As long as it was harmless and he could keep his emotional distance, no harm, no foul. But this wasn’t that. This…well, he didn’t quite know what this was. Whatever it was, it didn’t feel all that harmless.
Which was, in the end, what convinced him to put an end to the moment. One of the main rules of his job was, never stay in a situation you don’t understand any longer than absolutely necessary. At the moment, he felt totally out to sea and that was definitely not a typical place for him to be.
“I think I got it,” he said, and shifted away from her to slip the rope over Petunia’s neck, then guide the halter over her muzzle.
Elena reached up and helped him secure the nylon strapping. “Buckle the sides there, and I’ll get the back.”
He fumbled with the unfamiliar rig for a moment as her continued presence deep in his personal space continued to mess with his equilibrium on almost all fronts, then finally got it all snapped into place. He rubbed Petunia’s muzzle and shifted so that his attention was fully on the horse. And not on how badly he wanted to sink his hands into her hair…and his tongue into that sweet mouth of hers. “Thanks for putting up with that,” he murmured to the horse. “I’ll get better at it.” He caught Elena’s look from the corner of his eye and was drawn right back to the fire. “What?”
The Black Sheep and the Hidden Beauty Page 6
