Out To Get You: An MM Contemporary Romance

by Oliver, J. P.

  4

  Whitt

  A week after my first glimpse of Reece Wilder and I still couldn’t stop looking. I tried not to make it obvious. Easier than expected. I’d never thought much about it before, but I had a perfect view of the barn from the French doors behind my desk. I had watched him move in his horses and interview a couple of stable hands before he finally settled on one young man whose scruffy appearance in no way reflected his dogged work ethic.

  Together, Reece and his helper, had moved in all sorts of equipment. Most of it was a mystery to me. What fascinated me was the amount of hard physical labor Reece put in. I knew he was an early riser. His coffee cup was usually already washed and in the dish drainer before I entered the kitchen in the morning, but other than that sign of his presence and my glimpses of him at the barn, I scarcely saw him.

  Out of curiosity, I had awakened an hour earlier this morning. He was still already gone, but what I saw instead was him riding his horse. Man and beast moved together seamlessly as they flowed across the pasture. Sweat broke out across my brow. Seeing his thighs gripping the horse’s sides sent a shiver of anticipation through me. A sudden vision of running my hands along his muscles and gripping his ass flooded my imagination. Would he be as powerful a lover as he appeared? I had always controlled my relationships with men, but watching Reece made me think of other alternatives. My breathing had speeded up and my heart was racing…Shit. I had to stop this. The guy was here to teach me to ride a horse not him.

  He had told me last night he was ready to give me my first lesson this morning and added the instructions to wear jeans and a boot with a low heel. He’d eyed me in a critical way. “I have chaps that should fit you.”

  I had visions of some Hollywood cowboy strutting bowlegged in white and black cowhide. I had nodded, though, and wondered if I was going to want to kill Jack when this was all over with.

  I checked my watch. Eight. I was already dressed as instructed. It was time to find out exactly what I had embarked upon.

  The barn was spotless compared to my tour of it with Reece a week earlier. The dust and cobwebs were a thing of the past. The fragrance of fresh hay had replaced the odor of disuse. At my approach, Reece glanced over from where he was adjusting a saddle on a tall, placid-looking reddish-brown horse with a big white spot on his nose.

  “Good morning, Whitt. Meet Mac. He will be your new best buddy.”

  I gave the horse an awkward pat and looked at the saddle. It didn’t look like much. “Is that the whole saddle, or is there more to it?”

  Reece’s white teeth flashed in a smile that showed off the dimples in both cheeks. “That’s it. This is an English saddle. We’re starting off with what’s called a close contact saddle—less leather and padding between you and the horse.”

  I nodded, giving Mac another glance as he stood docilely in the aisle. “So, he’s nice and quiet?”

  Reece nodded, and to give him credit, didn’t laugh or even smirk. “He’s what we call bombproof. I’d trust him with my grandma.” He lowered the flap on the saddle and eyed my attire. “Let’s get some chaps on you. Follow me.”

  His calmness and confidence were a huge boost. Putting myself into situations where I wasn’t totally in control was way out of my comfort zone. Jack had known that when he suggested it. Rat Bastard.

  Reece pulled something that was plain tan leather from a hook in the tack room. “Try these.”

  I took them from his outstretched hand, then met his baby blue gaze. “I have absolutely no idea what to do with this.”

  This time, he laughed. “I’ll give you a hand.”

  I tried hard to keep my mind on business as he wrapped the wide strip of leather holding both sides together around my hips. His nearness and the clean male scent of him sent the blood rushing to my groin. Instantly, my mind returned to what I had fantasized about while watching him ride earlier. My gaze shifted to the riding crop hanging on a hook on the wall and my heartbeat went into overdrive.

  As he buckled the chaps in front below my belt, I couldn’t help sucking in a surprised breath. So fucking close to my cock that if I shifted a millimeter, his fingers would be all over me. I wanted to move, wanted to feel him glide his hands along my hips. God, I needed to get some control. What the fuck was happening to me?

  Our eyes met. His gaze shifted nervously. He had to be as freaked out as I was.

  Reece removed his hands, cleared his throat, and took a step back. A tiny pulse pounded at the base of his throat, a dead giveaway that he wasn’t nearly as calm and cool as he pretended to be. His glance slid away from mine as he instructed, “Wrap each side around your leg. Zippers are on the outside. They should fit snugly.”

  I was nervous and aroused. My hands fumbled a bit connecting the zipper. I managed the left leg finally but struggled with the right.

  “Mind if I give you a hand?” Reece asked.

  Our gazes met again in the thick silence of the tack room.

  “Thanks,” I muttered, studying his bent head with its golden-brown hair as he deftly connected the zipper and closed it. Complete control. He had it, while I was nearly shaking with need. I was acutely aware of his hand brushing against my leg and began figuring compound interest in my head to keep from focusing on Reece’s nearness.

  It was because I wasn’t used to having people close to me. That’s all it was.

  Reece handed me a black plastic helmet with a leather harness to attach it.

  “Let’s get this on you and properly fitted,” he said, his voice friendly but no-nonsense. “If you learn nothing else today, the most important lesson to remember is to always wear a helmet while riding. We use them on motorcycles and bicycles. Riding a horse is no different. No matter how much I trust Mac to take care of you, accidents can happen. You make a mistake; something can spook even the best of horses. The next thing you know, you’re on the ground.”

  This time, as he helped me adjust the helmet, I noticed he was careful not to actually touch me. Was it possible to feel relief and regret at the same time? I had too much at stake at the moment to act on the attraction I felt for Reece. Not only was he my employee, but Maitland, the client I needed to seal the deal with, had a conservative reputation. Sure, my being gay shouldn’t matter. Yet I knew from personal experience, it made a difference. At the very least, it could be used as an excuse. It had been by my family.

  So, Reece was off limits.

  “I’ll put the bridle on Mac today, but watch. You’ll be expected to learn how to do all of this.”

  “Can’t I hire grooms?”

  Reece gave me a cool look. “You could. But no horseman worth his salt ignores any aspect of horsemanship whether it’s in the saddle or on the ground.”

  There had been a tone in his voice that would have been interesting to explore if I weren’t beginning to feel a bit nervous. Quiet as he was, Mac was big. Reece gathered the horse’s reins in one hand and what looked like a super-long dog leash in the other.

  “What’s the leash for?” I asked as I walked beside him toward the ring.

  “It’s a long line. Since it’s your first experience on horseback, I’ll be maintaining some control of Mac while I teach you to get him to respond to your commands.”

  It was on the tip of my tongue to ask him if the trainer would respond to my commands too. Inappropriate.

  In the center of the ring, Reece stopped. While Mac stood stock still, Reece showed me how to adjust my stirrups to an approximate length to fit me, had me check the girth for the correct tightness, and showed me how to mount the horse. He swung onto the horse’s back lithely and easily, his tight ass settling softly into the saddle.

  Somehow, I had the feeling I wasn’t going to be quite so graceful. By the fifth time mounting and dismounting, I had the hang of it.

  “Okay, on your next try, stay on board. We’ll get everything adjusted so you can begin moving.

  Once I was in the saddle this time, Reece approached and shifted my foot, my l
ower leg, and my thigh. I knew his touch was meant to be impersonal, his expression and demeanor were nothing but professional, but the constant contact with him made my heart pound.

  It had been way too long.

  As he modeled the position of my hips and butt, then put his hands on my hips to tilt my pelvis ever so slightly forward, our gazes met again. There was no mistaking the flair of interest in his blue eyes, but he quickly masked it.

  At the end of the hour, I had managed to walk and even trot, a pace guaranteed to put testicles in danger. I was feeling pretty damn proud of myself.

  “Okay. Time to dismount,” Reece called as he began moving across the ring to where I was. “Be—”

  I didn’t hear the rest of what he said, secure in the knowledge I knew what I was doing, right up until my feet hit the ground and my legs gave out, landing me on my ass in the dirt.

  Mac turned his head, gazing at me with one large brown eye as if to let me know what an idiot I was.

  Reece offered his hand. “I was going to say be careful, but you were already going down. Take my hand. It’s not uncommon for your legs to be a little rubbery when you dismount after your first ride.”

  Once he pulled me to my feet, he turned my palm up in his work-hardened hand. “You might want to get some gloves.”

  “Are you saying my hands are soft?”

  His glance met mine. “You have nice hands. If you want to keep them that way, I would invest in some leather riding gloves. I’ll get you a pair.”

  By the time I returned to the house, my thighs and calves were aching. A soak in the whirlpool tub in my bathroom helped. When my phone rang a short while later, I saw Quinn Maitland’s name pop up.

  “Whitt! I ran into Sherry Rowland in town yesterday afternoon. She said you’re putting horses in your stable.”

  “That’s right. I figured it was about time.”

  “Listen, Mary and I were going to the club tonight for dinner. Why don’t you join us? We might be able to give you a few leads on horses in the area.”

  “That sounds perfect. I’ve hired a trainer, Reece Wilder. Mind if I bring him along? He’ll be doing all the buying for me.”

  “No problem. Reece is a very knowledgeable horseman.”

  Bless Jack and bless Sherry. This horse thing might pay off in more ways than I had anticipated. After I ended the call, I wondered if Reece would be as enthusiastic about the invitation to dinner.

  “You want me to go with you to a country club for dinner?”

  Not exactly the reaction I had hoped to get.

  “It’s a valuable business connection. More importantly, he’s into horses, says he might have some suggestions.”

  Reece leaned against the doorjamb in the kitchen where I’d found him around lunchtime. “Who is it?”

  “Quinn and Mary Maitland.”

  Reece’s entire posture changed, a smile creased his features. “I know the Maitlands.”

  “So, you’ll go?”

  He shrugged, all his former objections gone. “Sure. Coat and tie, I presume?”

  “Suit. Be ready at six.” That shouldn’t send a thrill of anticipating through me.

  It wasn’t a date. This was a professional dinner.

  5

  Reece

  I descended the wide staircase into the front hall right at six, dressed in the one suit I possessed. Whitt was already waiting at the bottom. When he lifted his silver gaze to study me, a shiver went through me.

  I had sensed something from him in the barn earlier today. He hadn’t tried to laugh off my having my hands so near his junk. I couldn’t have laughed if someone had been tickling me within an inch of my life. I’d had to back away, but the nature of teaching anyone to ride meant I was going to have my hands on him. And man, did I want that.

  I needed to be careful.

  “Ready?” The deep timbre of his voice was another spark to my nerve endings. I was ready for so many things—the caress of his hand, his scent filling my nostrils, the brush of his lips on mine, and the press of his cock. But that was off limits. This was business, and I couldn’t afford to lose this time around.

  “Yes.”

  There was a limo outside. When I lifted a brow, Whitt shrugged. “Don’t have to worry about a designated driver this way.”

  So nonchalant. I scrambled for every dollar I earned. Envy would be an easy emotion, but Whitt Dailey wasn’t some entitled heir to a fortune. What he had he’d made on his own wits and ability to close deals. In the week since my arrival, I’d barely seen him. He was either at work in his study or hightailing it to some appointment around our nation’s capital.

  Even now, he seemed anything but relaxed, his fingers tapping his thigh. The silence felt awkward, but I had a feeling Whitt would not be the one to initiate a conversation. Amazing when that was the nature of his business—putting businessmen together into deals that were mutually beneficial.

  “So, you mentioned Maitland is a business connection,” I remarked.

  Whitt tilted his face my way as the limo turned onto the narrow highway toward the Maysburg Country Club. “I’m negotiating a deal with him—a recycling business that would be a perfect fit with his paper company.”

  His gaze narrowed on me. “How well do you know the Maitlands?”

  “I know Mary better than Quinn. She’s served as chairwoman for several horse events in the area. She’s sponsored the local pony club for years.” I shrugged. “The horsey set isn’t all that big.”

  “So, they know you’re gay.”

  I laughed, a little taken aback. “I guess. It’s not like it’s a secret. They’ve seen me socially with some of the men I’ve dated.”

  “Are you dating anyone now?”

  I narrowed my gaze on him now. “Why? Are you worried they’ll think you’re my new boyfriend?”

  Whitt’s lips tightened. “This is business. Maitland knows that. I hope you do too.” He stared out the side window. Asshole.

  I leaned back in the seat feeling pissed off and…disappointed. I might be attracted, but apparently Whitt wasn’t.

  Quinn and Mary Maitland were as gracious as they always were. Both were tall and spare. Where Quinn’s hair was thick and nearly white, Mary’s was still blond, cut in a short, timeless bob. After shaking hands with them both, Whitt gestured to me.

  “I believe you both already know Reece Wilder. He’s helping me get my stable up and running.”

  Mary took my hands with a quizzical look on her face. “You are still working that lovely mare of yours, aren’t you?”

  “Satin. Yes. I’m getting her ready for the Maysburg show.”

  After we were seated, the conversation turned to business for a while. It gave me a chance to see a different side of Whitt. This was his element. His keen intelligence shone through the discussion like a laser pointer homing in on the most important issues.

  Mary and I spent most of our time listening until the dinner plates were cleared and coffee and dessert appeared.

  “I’m pleased to hear you’re putting horses back in that barn at your place,” Quinn said. “Shame for such an excellent facility to sit idle. Wilder, here, should be able to locate some solid mounts.”

  I inclined my head in thanks for his compliment.

  “You should hunt with us, Whitt. The season starts in a month. We’d love to have you,” Maitland continued.

  “Thank you. It would be my pleasure,” Whitt replied before I could kick him, punch him, something to get him to close his mouth. The man had barely trotted—badly—today. He had never been on a horse before this morning. There was no way in hell I could have him ready to foxhunt in a month.

  “So, I’m guessing you’re looking for a fairly experienced and reliable mount,” Mary said, directing her comment to me.

  Something that could hunt without any rider input whatsoever was more like it. “Yes. Mr. Dailey will need a very experienced horse.”

  Mary looked thoughtful for a moment. “You should talk
to Sherry Rowland. I believe she may be thinking about selling that big bay of hers, Bondage.” When Whitt coughed, Mary laughed. “I’m afraid her late husband had a unique sense of humor.”

  Quinn snorted. “Perverted is more like it. His horse was named Dominatrix. Everyone calls her Trixie.”

  My mind was still spinning. One month to locate and purchases horses, plus train Whitt to ride well enough he could hunt. My dreams of getting Satin ready for the Maysburg show were evaporating. If Whitt and the Maitlands noticed my relative silence through the rest of the evening, no one commented on it.

  Until we were in the limo headed home.

  “Is there some problem, Reece?” Whitt asked once the limo had pulled out of the parking lot and was navigating the narrow lane leading to the highway.

  “You hired me to teach you to ride as a hobby, not gallop after hounds.”

  “So now I’m going to go foxhunting.”

  I shook my head as I tried to rein in my temper, without much success. “You have no idea. You had your first experience on horseback this morning, yet you expect me to have you ready to ride to fucking hounds in a month? Do you have any idea at all what you’re getting into?”

  In the dim courtesy lights, anger flashed in his gaze. “Are you saying you’re not up to the challenge? That I’ve hired the wrong person?”

  I debated telling him right then and there what he could do with his job. Common sense won. “I am the best you’re going to get. Accepting Maitland’s invitation changes the terms of our contract. Our deal was for me to teach you how to ride for pleasure, not to freaking foxhunt. It can be dangerous for horses and riders.”

  Whitt arched a brow. “I’ll double your pay.”

  What the fuck? He was already paying me a huge salary. If he doubled it, I might actually be able to save enough to buy my own place. I met his gaze unflinchingly.

  “I accept, but you are going to have to double the number of lessons from once to twice a day.”