All the King's Horses

by Lauren Gallagher

  The waitress, probably relieved she didn’t need to deal with us again for a little while, left, and I looked across the table at Amy as I pushed my beer aside.

  “So, do you mind if I ask about your husband? I mean, any more than I already have?”

  Amy shook her head. “No, go ahead.”

  I hesitated, not sure if I really wanted to go there or why, but finally said, “Were you afraid of him?”

  “Do you mean in general?” she asked quietly. “Or was that why I couldn’t make myself leave?”

  “Both.”

  She folded her arms and leaned on them. “I was only afraid of him when he was drunk. Like, really drunk. The rest of the time, I was just miserable because we shouldn’t have been married to each other, but I was also afraid to leave.” Her eyes lost focus, and I watched her pick at the label on her beer bottle as she said, “I guess I was afraid of the unknown. What I would do after I left him. And I kind of felt guilty about the idea of continuing what I was doing professionally, because I wouldn’t have any of that if it hadn’t been for him, so I didn’t think I deserved…” She shook her head and sighed. “God, I don’t even know what I was thinking of or what I was afraid of. I was scared to stay, scared to leave, and staying was just easier because I’d done it for so long.”

  “When he wasn’t drinking,” I said, “were you guys always miserable together?”

  Amy was quiet for a long moment, still playing with the edge of the paper placemat. I hurt just watching her, knowing she was back in that place she’d been before Sam’s death, and I knew the answer even before she whispered, “No. We weren’t. We weren’t happy enough to make it in the long haul, but there were…” A slight smile formed on her lips, but her eyes were sad when she looked across the table at me. “There were some good times too. Which is part of why I ran before we’d even buried him.”

  I leaned over my folded arms and held her gaze. “What do you mean?”

  Amy swept her tongue across her lips and dropped her gaze. “Well, like I said in the truck, I had to get away from home. From the barn, the horses, my family. Everything. The day after Sam died, I was suffocating from all the people and the well wishes and…” She exhaled. “And the more people were crying around me, the more I realized how much I didn’t feel. At all. About Sam or his death or anything. I went out into the barn that night to be around the horses, because that’s where I’d always gone when I was unhappy, and I…” She closed her eyes for a moment , and then looked at me. “I just didn’t feel anything.”

  “Nothing?”

  “Nothing. And I thought if I stayed there another minute, I’d lose my mind, so I went back in the house and started looking around online for some place I could go. That’s when I found your ad.” Her face took on a distant expression. “I guess I just went off the deep end.”

  “Has it helped?”

  “Hmm?”

  “Coming out here?” I asked. “Has it helped you with…what you needed?”

  “It got me away from everything back home,” she said dryly. She paused, and after a moment, said, “But, now that you mention it, yeah. Last night aside, I’ve felt a little better since I came here.”

  “Good to hear,” I said quietly, pretending she hadn’t just escalated my pulse with that comment. You’re happier here? Stay. Please, Amy. Stay.

  I knew damn well she couldn’t and wouldn’t stay. Not when she had a life elsewhere and had just come here to temporarily escape it. But looking at her now, I wanted her to stay, and it didn’t matter why that was insane or unrealistic or why I had no business even thinking about it.

  Before either of us could restart the stalled conversation, the music changed. We both turned toward the dance floor, where the lines of dancers became two-stepping couples.

  Amy dropped her gaze. I shifted mine between her, the dancers, her again. We could sit here and wallow in everything that made us miserable while we drank and waited for our food, or we could take a desperately needed three-and-a-half-minute breather.

  Trying not to fidget in my seat, I said, “You know, while we’re waiting for our food, do you want…” The words got lost in my throat. What on earth are you doing? I coughed quietly and then tried again. “As long as we’re waiting, do—”

  “Yes. I do.”

  You do? I almost said, but I was afraid if I did she’d come to her senses, so I just smiled, stood and said, “After you.”

  We headed for the dance floor. And there, among all the other couples, just like the first night I brought her here, I put an arm around her waist as she put her hand in mine and rested the other on my shoulder.

  She was more sure-footed this time, less uncertain about just relaxing and following me. Definitely more relaxed now, like she didn’t have quite so much weight on her shoulders and wasn’t working so hard to hold something back that she couldn’t even keep track of her own feet, never mind mine. Granted we weren’t trying for a complicated line dance, but still, she seemed more comfortable.

  After a while, she whispered, “I’m sorry again. About last night.”

  “Don’t be. I’m just sorry someone ever put you through that.”

  Her cheeks colored a little, and she just gave a faint smile, but she didn’t say anything more. Neither did I. I wasn’t sure what could be said in the wake of the conversation we’d been having since we left the farm, and anyway, it was hard to talk when I was this close to her. Breathing and thinking didn’t even come easily, not when my hand was on her back and her face was only a few inches from mine.

  God, what was I doing? What was I thinking? Last night she was coming apart, grieving a husband who didn’t deserve her. She still had miles to go down that particular road, and I couldn’t imagine she’d want to get involved with me or any other man right then, but dancing with her this way, I couldn’t quite help getting lost in wondering what might have happened between us if we’d met in another time or place. And how much I wanted that to happen between us now, even if I knew damn well it couldn’t.

  The song ended, and the one that followed was another slow one. Amy didn’t pull away, and neither did I, and even though something deep down told me we shouldn’t do this, I kept on leading her around the sparsely crowded floor, and she kept on following.

  We’d done this before. Amy and me, dancing to the same kind of music on this very same floor. Seemed like we were strangers then, or something close to it, and though we still were to an extent, it was different now. Like we didn’t know each other yet.

  And I was well past being on the cusp of wanting to know her. Of wanting her. With her slightly calloused hand in mine, and the small of her back warming my palm, I could barely keep myself from drawing her a little closer. Close enough I wouldn’t be able to pretend this was just a friendly, platonic dance like last time. Or like last time should have been. And absolutely was not. Jesus, I was torturing myself. I was the last thing she needed right now, but I’d have been lying if I said I didn’t want her anyway.

  Somewhere between the third verse and refrain, she smiled up at me. “I think I needed this.”

  My heart beat faster. “Glad to help.”

  “Much appreciated.” Her voice was softer this time, but I had no trouble hearing her over the music, and that was when I realized the space between us was shrinking. I couldn’t say why. I wasn’t aware of her pulling me toward her, and I didn’t think I was pulling her toward me, but with every slow, steady beat of the song, there was less air between us. Our feet still moved, but God knew how or to what tempo; it was like we only moved as an excuse to keep inching closer to being dangerously close to each other.

  Amy had to have noticed it too. I wondered if she lifted her chin on purpose, or if she did it subconsciously like I’d lowered my own, and when her eyes flicked from mine to my lips and back, there was no pretending we didn’t know where this was going. My mouth watered with the anticipation of tasting hers. The music’s slow tempo emphasized the rapid beat of my heart, a
nd I didn’t care if we shouldn’t be doing this or why. I wanted to. I wanted her.

  The distance narrowed. Amy’s hip just brushed the front of my jeans, sending electricity coursing from my very erect cock right up my spine. Her eyes slid closed, and a second later, mine followed suit. I moved in until her breath whispered across my lips.

  And a screaming steel guitar startled us apart.

  By the time I realized the song had changed, we were back to a platonic distance. All the other couples on the floor separated and either went back to their tables or fell into cowboy-booted ranks for the next line dance, so Amy and I moved out of the way. Near the edge of the floor, we stopped.

  Our eyes met.

  Did that just happen? hers asked.

  I don’t know, mine tried to reply. But I kind of want it to finish happening…

  She glanced toward our table, and jumped again. “Oh. Looks like our food showed up.”

  I looked the same direction, and sure enough, two plates waited for us at the table we’d abandoned. “Oh. Right. Guess we should go eat.”

  She walked ahead of me on the way to the table, so she didn’t see me run the tip of my tongue across my lip in search of the kiss that hadn’t quite come to life. And somewhere between the dance floor and the table, right around the time Amy slid into her side of the booth and I sat across from her, I realized it was probably a good thing the music had changed when it had. Amy was one night into some long-overdue grieving, and I was—however temporarily—her employer.

  A moment like that wasn’t easily forgotten, though. I saw traces of it in her eyes every time she looked at me, and relived it entirely every time one of us broke eye contact.

  A good five minutes passed before she spoke. Drumming her fingers rapidly on the table, she said, “You asked earlier if I’d felt any different since I came here. If coming to the ranch had helped.”

  “I did, yes.”

  “I, um, meant to tell you,” she said softly, and a shy but genuine smile spread across her lips. “Working with Blue has made a difference. A big difference.”

  In spite of what her smile did to my pulse, I said, “Has it?”

  “Yeah.” She smiled. “It’s just different working with him. Like, the only pressure is to not put pressure on him.” Her smile broadened a little. “It’s probably the most I’ve enjoyed working with any horse in…God…I don’t even know. Years.”

  “Well, good.” I returned the smile, pretending my stomach wasn’t still wound up in knots and my heart wasn’t still going crazy. “I’m, um—” Do you have any idea how badly I want you right now? I cleared my throat. “Glad to hear it.”

  “So between working with Blue and—” She cut herself off abruptly, and a hint of color bloomed in her cheeks. “It’s helped,” she said quickly. “A lot. So thank you.”

  “You’re welcome,” I said. “Anything I can do, just let me know.”

  She looked me in the eye. The color lingered in her cheeks. No one said a word.

  Yes, Amy.

  I mean it.

  Anything I can do.

  In front of our shared duplex, Amy parked beside my truck, and we both went into the barn to finish feeding and locking up for the night. Once the horses were taken care of, we walked in silence up the steps leading to our shared porch, brushing a few hay crumbs off our clothes if only for something to do.

  On the porch, we stopped.

  “Thank you,” she said. “I’m glad we got a chance to talk.”

  “Me too,” I said.

  We looked at each other as if we each wanted the other to say something, but hell if I could think of anything that wouldn’t make me sound like an ass or tip my hand and… make me sound like an ass. I was afraid to even open my mouth because all I wanted to say was something to the effect of “come inside” or “I’m not ready for this night to be over.”

  Amy finally broke the silence. “Anyway. I should…” She bit her lip. “Good night, Dustin.”

  “Good night,” I said.

  She put a hand on my arm, stood up on her toes and kissed my cheek. Then, probably oblivious to the goose bumps her touch had sent prickling down my spine, she turned to go.

  She’d only made it a few steps when I managed to choke out, “Amy, wait.”

  She stopped and faced me again.

  Ignoring my rapidly beating heart, I closed some of the distance she’d created. Not enough. Probably way too much. God, what was wrong with me?

  We held each other’s gazes again, and Amy didn’t speak. Neither did I.

  But I was the one who’d stopped her, so that meant I needed to break the silence, and how the fuck was I supposed to do that when every time I looked at her, I thought about that moment when I’d almost, almost, almost kissed her?

  “Do you want to come in?” I finally blurted out and gestured over my shoulder at my front door. “For…I don’t know, a drink?”

  “I think I’ve had enough to drink recently,” she said with a shy smile. Just before my heart could drop into my feet, she added, “But I’m not sure I’m quite ready to call it a night.”

  If my heart beat any faster, I was a dead man.

  I swallowed. “Good. I…um… Neither am I.”

  Her brow furrowed, and she cocked her head a little. “Something on your mind?”

  You know exactly what’s on my mind, Amy.

  I chewed the inside of my cheek and forced myself to keep looking her in the eye. “Just…what happened back there, I guess.”

  Some color rushed into Amy’s face, and she dropped her gaze.

  “You came here because you hadn’t felt anything for the horses in a long time,” I said softly.

  Amy nodded. “Because I hadn’t felt anything in a long time.”

  “Right,” I said. “Let’s just say you’re not the only one who’s finally feeling something they haven’t in a long time.”

  Her posture straightened. “Really?”

  “Yeah,” I whispered. “Really.”

  Her eyes flicked toward my lips. “So what is it you’re feeling that you haven’t felt in a long time?”

  I gulped. I swept the tip of my tongue across my lower lip and took another step toward her, my own fearlessness sending my pulse skyward once again. With the narrowed distance between us, I was hyperaware of our height difference, of how much she had to look up to maintain this tenuous eye contact.

  “Honestly?” I said. “Like I really don’t care right now that you work for me.”

  “Oh?” She swallowed. “So what would you do if you weren’t my boss?”

  “I…” The words stuck in my throat. Instead of trying to speak, I reached for her face, and Amy closed her eyes as the backs of my fingers met her cheek. The desperation in my own voice made me cringe as I said, “I’m not very good at this.”

  She opened her eyes. “You’re doing just fine so far.”

  I moistened my lips, and finally, I remembered how to speak.

  “I know we shouldn’t do this,” I whispered. “There are so many reasons we shouldn’t, but I can’t help it, Amy. All I can think about is—”

  All at once, she grabbed my shirt and kissed me, probably as much to shut me up as anything.

  My hat hit the porch at our feet in the same instant our lips met, and my entire universe stopped on a dime. No, that wasn’t it. It started again, lurching back into motion for the first time since she’d shown up at my ranch. I wrapped my arms around her, and she sank against me. She let me part her lips and draw her tongue into my mouth, and her breath across my face made me shiver. Her kiss was desperate, hungry, her tongue both pleading and demanding. The hand on my neck held me to her, but her fingers twitched in my hair as if her firm grip was a futile effort to keep her hand from trembling. God only knows how long we kissed like that before we finally broke away.

  I was hard, and she wanted me to be. Otherwise, she wouldn’t have moved her hips like that: to one side, then the other, then back, making my head spin a l
ittle faster every time she brushed past my erection.

  With a simultaneous release of uneven breaths, we separated.

  She touched my face, the soft warmth of her hand making me shiver.

  “I don’t care why we shouldn’t do this,” she said. “I want to.” The hand on my face went into my hair, and she pulled me into another long, deep kiss. This time, it was slow, the closest thing to gentle we were capable of, but it wasn’t tenderness. It was restraint. This was as far as we could open the cage without letting the tiger free.

  She pulled me toward her until her back hit the wall, and that cage door slid a little farther open. I broke the kiss, intending to insist we shouldn’t because…because…for some reason that must have made sense a moment ago, but when her hip pressed against my erection, my breath slipped silently through my lips. Her hand drifted down my side, and when she reached my belt, I knew exactly where she was going.

  “Amy, what are…” I couldn’t remember how to speak, never mind what I wanted to say.

  She slid her hand over the front of my jeans, and I closed my eyes, groaning as I let my head fall back. Squeezing me, stroking me with her fingers and palm, she teased me through my clothes until I was damn near out of my mind.

  Her voice soft and unsteady, she said, “Do you want to stop?”

  “God, no.” I kissed her hard and pressed my cock against her hand. I didn’t know where this bold, aggressive side of her came from, but I liked it. I loved it. “I want you too bad to stop.”

  Amy whimpered, gripping the front of my shirt with one hand as her other squeezed me through my jeans. “We should go inside.”

  I swept my tongue across my lips. “Your place or mine?”

  “Whichever’s closest.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Amy

  We stumbled in through Dustin’s front door. My heart beat wildly, and I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been so aroused. A dam in me had broken last night, and another was breaking now, and I couldn’t stop it, and I didn’t want to stop it, and Dustin didn’t stop it. His kiss and his hands and the way he had as much trouble staying upright as I did made me want to just drag him down to the floor and finish this here and now.