The Gift Horse

by Jami Davenport

  He lifted his face to hers. “What’s the matter? Can’t take a little heat?”

  “A little?” She croaked. “I’d be cooler inside an oven set on broil.”

  “Not a bad cooking analogy for someone who doesn’t cook.” He chuckled. “Don’t worry, you won’t get burned.”

  That was the problem. She would get burned, emotionally, though not intentionally. She knew it. He knew it. A union between them would never amount to anything permanent.

  Carson lowered his mouth back to hers, and she forgot her misgivings. Grabbing her butt, he pulled her to him and carried her a few steps to the huge bed in the gooseneck portion of the trailer.

  “Take them off.” He indicated the remainder of her clothes. His voice didn’t sound any steadier than hers did. He kicked off his boots and stripped off his clothes in record time.

  Sam pulled off her jeans, bra, and underwear and threw them on the floor with his. Only then did she take a moment to enjoy his naked body in the dim bordello lights. He was her wild-west gunslinger and she, a saloon girl. She could picture her tight-ass cowboy hunk a little messed up and hot for a night on the town or in the bed. The man not only had incredible pecs, but a great ass, and strong muscled thighs. And, oh, my, she forgot to breathe for a moment. He was hung like a horse, erect and ready for action.

  Swallowing, she found the will to speak. “This place looks like a bedroom in a b-rated western.”

  “Well, darlin,” he drawled in a very poor John Wayne imitation that made her laugh. “I do so like them workin’ girls. Why don’t we turn it into an x-rated western? I’ve always wanted to do it with Calamity Jane, and that name does fit you.”

  “Whatever you say, Jesse James.” After all, he was an outlaw who’d stolen her heart.

  Carson crawled onto the bed next to her, taking his time perusing her body. His eyes met hers, intense and hot. She stared at his cock, hard and ready for action. “Do you have a concealed weapons permit for that thing?”

  “It’s not concealed anymore.”

  “Good point.” She’d concede that one. “Is that why they call them six guns?”

  He feigned hurt. “Six? Do you think that’s all it is?”

  No, she didn’t. “Heck no. It’s more like a rifle, and I’m ready for a shootout with you.”

  “I’m a good shot.”

  “I’ll bet you are.” He took the condom he’d pulled from his pocket earlier, ripped the package open, and slid it over his cock. Sam watched, forcing her lungs to take in air.

  Carson stretched his body the length of hers and slipped his hands down her thighs to her crotch. She pressed against him him when his hands found that secret spot. He cupped her then slipped his index finger easily into her wetness. She cried out and arched her hips toward his. He slid in up to his knuckle, pulled out then slid back in, repeating the action until she was nearly driven mad. Then he pulled his finger out.

  “Don’t stop now,” she panted.

  “I like you begging for mercy.”

  “I’ll beg all you want. Just don’t stop.” She slipped her hands down his sides and reached for him. “I could turn the tables.”

  “Oh, no, you don’t. This time we play by my rules.” He captured both of her wrists in one big hand and held them over her head. She squirmed to get free, but he was way too strong.

  “Carson, that’s not fair.”

  “What’s your point?” He added a second finger to the first and slid them inside her, using his thumb in clever ways that made her head spin and her body defy gravity. He stroked her clit and moved his fingers in and out, faster and faster. She poised on the brink, started to go over, then...Damn him! His fingers were gone. He pulled back and watched her, a satisfied smirk on his face.

  “You...you...”

  “You’re not going there without me.” Releasing her hands, he straddled her body.

  Sam shifted her gaze to his large cock. “Don’t you think you should put that gun away before somebody gets hurt?”

  “Oh, baby, this is for pleasure, not for pain. Let me show you.”

  “It’s about time. Draw your six-shooter, and let’s dance.”

  She parted her legs and wrapped them around his waist. He didn’t need any further invitation. She was ready, wet, and horny. He started slow, just a little at a time, so she could adjust to his size. In. Out. In further. Out. In even further. Out again. Sam dug her fingers into his shoulders. He pushed in with a grunt and was buried up to the hilt, filling her completely. Withdrawing, he poised for another controlled thrust. Sam didn’t want controlled. She wanted Carson stripped bare down to his no-longer suppressed emotions. She dug her heels into the small of his back and pushed her hips into his, driving him deeper. He made a noise that sounded more animal than man and increased his rhythm. She met it and matched it, driving them both higher and higher to a place where control didn’t exist and emotions were the only reality.

  Like surfers cresting each wave, they came together with a fierceness she didn’t know she was capable of. She screamed his name, and he screamed hers. The bed whirled around them like a carnival ride. Everything came hard and fast and crazy until it ended in a burst of star-spangled ecstasy. They sank happily into a warm, tropical ocean, satisfied and spent.

  Surprised to find she still had a voice, Sam managed a croak. “You can dance with me anytime, cowboy.” She snuggled close to his warm body, resting her head on his chest. He nuzzled her neck and wrapped his arms around her with a contented sigh.

  “My pleasure, Ma’am.” She felt his smile against her neck.

  Chapter 27—Family Ties that Bind

  “We never do anything like normal people, do we?” Sam lay on her side and propped her head up with a hand.

  “I beg your pardon. Until I met you, I was so normal, I was boring as hell.” Carson sunk down into the covers and grinned at her. His blue eyes sparkled with satisfaction and pleasure.

  Sam couldn’t deny the truth in that. “And now, you’re...what?”

  “Probably still somewhat normal and boring.”

  Sam laughed and cuddled closer to his bare chest. “Carson, believe me, you are anything but boring.”

  “You really think so?” His disbelief surprised her.

  “Of course, I think so. You’re good. Really good.”

  For a moment he stared at the nearby wall and said nothing. “No one’s ever told me that.”

  “You’re lying. Trying to get more compliments.”

  Carson rolled over and propped his head on his hand. “I’m not. Sad as it sounds.” Something flickered in his eyes, and she realized he was telling her the truth. What kind of woman would make a man like this think that he was substandard? Sam couldn’t begin to imagine such a self-absorbed or stupid female.

  Sam didn’t have a clue how to respond so she didn’t. “Carson, you’d better get your butt out of bed and get dressed before Bridget finds you here with me.”

  Carson glanced at his watch. “It’s only 7:00 a.m.. There’s no way she’ll be up for another few hours.”

  “She has horses to feed.”

  Carson snorted. “I’m sure she’s relegated that job to one of her people.”

  “Regardless, I have horses to feed myself.”

  “I get the hint.” Carson sighed and pulled on his jeans, pausing long enough to lay a wet kiss on her lips.

  Together they emerged from the trailer to the sound of horses chewing hay and others not so fortunate nickering for their breakfasts and kicking their stalls.

  The good-looking trainer from across the aisle was feeding Bridget’s horses. Carson and Sam exchanged shocked glances.

  “Maybe he’s not gay,” Sam whispered to Carson.

  “I’d say that’s a safe bet.”

  “That might also explain why she wasn’t waiting up for us last night.”

  “All I care is that she’s not interfering in our lives.”

  “Amen to that.”

  Together they fed the h
orses. Sam measured the grain and poured it in buckets while Carson tossed flakes of hay in the stalls and filled water buckets. When they were finished, they both plopped in lawn chairs in front of Gabbie’s stall.

  “You know, it’s odd, but that sound is relaxing.” Carson looked over his shoulder at Gabbie eating her breakfast.

  “The sound of horses munching on hay?”

  “Yeah.” His admission appeared to surprise him.

  “You’ve just discovered something that horse lovers have known for centuries.” Lord, she adored this man.

  Carson smiled then grew serious. “Sam, about last night. I...”

  “You don’t need to say it. I already know. It shouldn’t have happened. You’re sorry that it did. I’m sorry that it did. I want to stay friends. I know. I’ve heard all lines.”

  “I wasn’t going to say that. I’m not a one-night stand kind of guy.”

  “But...”

  “There is no but.” Carson stiffened in offense.

  “Then what are you trying to say?”

  “Maybe if you’d shut up and listen for once.”

  “Are you implying that I talk too much?”

  “It’s an inborn female trait.”

  “Since when?”

  “Since Adam and Eve.”

  “If men weren’t so, so irritating.”

  Carson sighed. “Just listen, okay.”

  Sam zipped her mouth shut, not wanting to hear what she expected him to say.

  “Last night, it meant something to me. I hope it meant something to you. I’d like to keep seeing you.”

  “What about your family? They won’t like this.”

  Carson shrugged. “I’ve spent the greater portion of my life trying to please them. I never could. Maybe it’s time to stop.”

  “Carson, we’re so different.”

  “I know, but I think I can reform you.” He slanted her his lopsided grin.

  “I don’t think there’s a man alive capable of that.”

  “Now there’s a challenge I’d like to meet.”

  “Carson, I don’t know.” Her heart was saying: YES! YES! YES! Her head was saying: No. No. No. Her heart was definitely drowning out her head.

  “I can’t promise anything permanent or long-term. I just know that I like your company. You challenge me and my rigid ideas, take me out of my comfort zone.”

  “I don’t expect anything.” Comfort zone? She hadn’t been in her comfort zone since she’d met him. Of course, the old ‘I can’t promise you anything long-term speech’ was expected. He wouldn’t be a man if he didn’t stress that point. She wouldn’t be a woman if she didn’t dream of something more. It was a wonder that men and women ever got together at all.

  The screwy thing was she’d take him anyway she could get him. Bridget would have a cow once she came out of her self-absorbed stupor. Harlee would be thrilled. Jake would probably warn her about his big brother. Carson’s parents? Would they get a vote? Disapproval probably took the top spot on their ballet. She didn’t have a pedigree or one single millionaire in her family, just a bunch of working stiffs who made America what it was and made people like the Reynolds’ filthy rich.

  Now there was a thought. Her family was having a get together in a few weeks. She’d planned on attending alone. If Carson was really interested in expanding his comfort zone, accompanying her would do it. Her group of rowdy brothers and cousins would certainly give him a run for his money. Did she dare do that to poor, unsuspecting Carson? If a guy didn’t have jock written all over him, they figured he was some kind of pussy.

  Besides, while she had him isolated, she might be able to convince him to consider that the handicapped riding program would be a great addition to Cedrona. Maybe between the two of them they could come up with a way to make it profitable.

  * * * *

  The horse show had been long, stressful, and taxing, but Sam had made it through. Her three ragtag students with their backyard horses scored well. They even managed to beat Hans’ students in a class or two.

  As far as how Gabbie performed, well, she was Gabbie. She started what promised to be a brilliant performance, but three-quarters of the way into their test, threw a temper tantrum. Even so, Sam managed to keep her cool and ride forward. Even Hans had given her some rare praise. She’d actually managed one decent qualifying score for the regional championships, so she couldn’t complain.

  A few days later, she sat with Carson at Character’s Corner, sipped on beer, and listened while he rattled off criticisms of her business plan for the handicapped riding program. The guy should have written it himself. What’d she know about this kind of stuff?

  * * * *

  Carson shook his head and fisted his hands in his hair. He drained his beer in several gulps just as George deposited another on the table.

  This so-called proposal of hers was crap. It was incomplete, full of holes and inconsistencies. It needed more work before he dared suggest she present it to his father. Yet, he had to admit, the therapeutic riding program had potential. His mother loved the idea. She was already making plans to solicit some charitable contributions. He’d let her handle fund-raising. Unfortunately, there was nothing concrete, so he couldn’t count donations that didn’t exist. He wanted to meet with the program’s director, but he was beginning to think this person didn’t exist or was a ghost.

  Then there was Sam on a personal level. She was either the best or the worst thing that had ever happened to him. She frustrated the hell out of him, made him feel things he’d long ago buried, and he walked around as horny as a teenage boy at the Playboy Mansion. His boring, predictable life had done a one-eighty.

  Carson took in the room around him. This honky-tonk had become one of his favorite hangouts, even though his elbows still stuck to the table. Oh, how things had changed.

  Carson’s eyes honed in on a tall athletic man as he walked into the bar. There was something vaguely familiar about him. The man strode toward them with unmistakable purpose. He halted behind Sam’s chair and tapped her on the back.

  “I knew I’d find you here.”

  Sam whirled around and stared at the interloper, her expression a combination of surprise and guilt. Carson stiffened and glared at the guy.

  “You’ve been ignoring my phone calls.” Without waiting for an invitation, he pulled out a chair and sat down. Sam still hadn’t said a word.

  “Who is this guy?” The stranger jabbed a thumb at Carson.

  Sam found her tongue and finally spoke. “He’s a client of mine.”

  The man’s eyebrows shot up. His eyes narrowed. He glared at Carson as he responded. “Haven’t you learned your lesson by now? You’re a sucker for these rich guys, and they only want one thing.”

  Carson opened his mouth to retaliate, but Sam shot him a pleading look that made him swallow his response.

  “Mike, I ride his horse. That’s all there is to it.”

  That’s all there was to it? Those words hurt. Carson forced his face into a mask of indifference.

  “Horses. Of course. What else is there but those bottomless manure pits you pour money into.” Mike rolled his eyes. He turned his chair in such a manner that his back was to Carson. Carson knew a slight when one was thrown in his face, but he wasn’t leaving Sam alone with this guy. He leaned back in his chair, assumed a casual pose, and sipped on his beer.

  “When are you going to give up this insane waste of time and come home?”

  “I asked for a year. You know that.”

  Come home? Sam was married? He grabbed a pretzel from the small bowl on the table, but it lodged in his throat. Shit. If that didn’t just figure. He’d always had an uncanny talent for picking unavailable women.

  “You’ll never make a decent living with horses. Our mother couldn’t. Look what happened to her.”

  Carson blew out a breath of relief, and they both paused to stare at him. He offered an apologetic smile. Sam’s brother. Now, this was an area he understood—sibling d
isagreements. He’d perfected winning them to an art and was quite often the perpetrator since his sibs usually fell short of his exacting standards.

  “Keep Mom out of this.”

  “Mom didn’t want her daughter to follow in her footsteps. She wanted you to graduate from college and get a stable job.”

  “I have a stable job,” Sam quipped.

  Carson choked back a snort. Knowing families like he did, it’d be better to stay neutral and out of it. Getting involved in family disputes, which he knew nothing about, was a sure recipe for disaster.

  “You’re never going to make the Olympics. You don’t have the money.” He turned to glare again at Carson. “Unless you get a rich sponsor.”

  “I’ve come to terms with that. I love riding and teaching. I can’t imagine sitting in an office for eight hours a day. Can you picture me as a bookkeeper or a crafts store clerk? I’d hate it.”

  “Dad’s paying off the debts he accumulated when he bailed you out of that mess.”

  “I’m going to pay him back.”

  “When? You’re on borrowed time. It’s been six years. Show a little responsibility and get a paying job. You could still ride, just not for a living.”

  Carson knew that argument. He’d had the same one with his sister on numerous occasions. The big difference being that his sister didn’t even attempt to make money at horses, just spend it.

  “You’re not listening to me,” Sam said.

  “What I’m listening to is that you’re selfish. Dad and Eunice need you. The rest of us pull our weight. Why can’t you? Dad’s invested thousands in your horse career, and what’s come of it? You can’t even make ends meet.”

  “He knows I’ll pay him back as soon as I can.”

  “Maybe he has faith in you, but I don’t. That’s why I’m here to remind you of the sacrifices he’s made—that we’ve all made.”

  “I’m sorry. Really, I am. We agreed I’d give this up if I couldn’t develop a thriving business within a year. I still have six months.”

  “You have four months. You spent two months trying to find a job once you came back from Germany. Unemployment counts. In fact, that’s the point.”