Hot Coco (3 page)

With the beer bottle resting on his chest, he laid his head back against the sofa. He closed his eyes. The corners of his mouth turned upward.
Ya know, that ballerina scenario ain’t half bad.
The erotic images he was allowing his mind to conjure was severed by the sound of hooves stomping through gravel and familiar voices hollering from outside.

Mike jumped from the sofa, the beer bottle sweat skittered down his chest into his navel. Dabbing at the dribble on his chest, he peered out the front window in time to see Coco’s grey gelding gallop through his front yard with Kate in pursuit. He pulled on his boots to join the chase.

Forty-five minutes later; Eric, Kate, Shane, and Mike wearily led the five horses through the barn door. Eric flipped on the barn lights. Their eyes widened, and their mouths dropped open. Mike groaned.

Straw and hay was strewn about the aisle. Stall doors hung lop-sided from their mountings. Rakes, buckets, and pitchforks were tossed over the floor; and wheelbarrows were overturned. Several horses wandered through the barn and munched on the broken bales of hay.

“What a mess,” Kate said. “These guys have been loose for a while.”

“I wonder who the escape artist is,” Shane said.

“Something tells me it’s Charlatan.” Mike shot the horse a dirty look.

It almost seemed that the horse shrugged at him with indifference.

Tired, hot, and sweaty, Eric glared at Mike with flared nostrils.

Managing to avoid his father’s gaze, Mike guided the grey gelding into a stall.

Holding tight to his glare, Eric picked up a rake and shoved it into Mike’s chest. Then, he marched out the barn door with Kate and Shane behind him.

Staring at the mess, Mike leaned against the rake while the loose horses enjoyed their extra portions of hay. He groaned and glanced back at Charlatan, who snorted at him through the bars of his stall.

Three

The morning sun splashed across Westwood Thoroughbred Farm. The business of Thoroughbreds was well under way.

Scuttling around the barn, the stable hands pushed wheelbarrows heaped with steaming horse manure, filled buckets with fresh water, and led horses from once place to another. Their Spanish chatter almost drowned-out Taylor Swift’s voice, which filtered in through the barn radio. A deafening
bang, bang, bang
, reverberated down the aisle every once in a while.

Rubbing his eyes and yawning, Mike slid through the barn door. The
Bang, bang, bang
, caught his attention, but when he looked up, he saw Coco propped against the wall halfway down the aisle. The annoying noise was all but forgotten when he saw Shane leaning over her. Mike had seen that stance before. Speaking in a low cool voice, he was entertaining her with his oh-so-charming Shane smile while trying to woo Coco into a romantic rendezvous
.

The left side of Mike’s mouth sucked in, and his eyes fell into chary slits.
Hmmmm.
A young Mexican stable hand wandered past with an empty wheelbarrow—well, almost empty. A mushy green piece of horse dung clung to the corner.
Perfect.
His eyes brighten while the left side of his lip turned upward.

“Perdone, por favor.”
Excuse me, please
. Swiping the wheelbarrow, Mike pushed it down the aisle at a jog while aiming from his brother’s backside.

Casting him a coquettish smile, Coco relaxed against the wall to allow Shane to charm her. She was rather enjoying it. By her calculations, he was at least seven years her junior.
He sure is cute. Shamefully handsome, and they tended to be so much fun at that age.

Bang, bang, bang!
The horse’s hooves continued to smack the stall wall.

Shane was in full seduction mode. “I was thinking a picnic by the lake this evening would be really nice.” He looked into her blue eyes, down her throat, and—hell yeah—to the ample cleavage the woman couldn’t help but flaunt.

Suddenly, his legs were knocked out from underneath him. Slamming into the bucket of the wheelbarrow, his body jerked backward. Mike’s ornery grin beamed down at him. He could feel the wetness of a warm slimy substance seeping through his jeans. No one had to tell him, he recognized that smell. He scowled at his older brother.
Okay, let the pissing match begin.

Cupping her hands over her mouth, Coco stepped back.

Bang, bang, bang!
The hooves seemed like they were breaking through the kickboards.

Agitation etched across his face, Punch stepped out of the stall with sweat on his brow. He peered down at Shane’s scarlet face. Mike stood back with a
take-that-asshole
sneer while his brother eased his way out of the wheelbarrow.

“I’m glad you guys are having such a good time. I could use a hand in here.” The frustration crept into Punch’s voice. Mike and Coco followed him into the stall. Trying to wipe the soggy green crap from his butt, Shane shuffled along behind.

Charlatan’s eyes were like saucers. His ears were pinned flat to his head, and his nostrils were flared. Tossing his head, he jabbed sharply with his hoof against the wall.
Bang!

Dodging the kick, the Mexican exercise rider landed on top of the tiny exercise saddle laying up-side-down in the corner. Beads of sweat dotting his dark complexion, he
glanced back at the obnoxious grey gelding.. He scrambled to his feet, slid along the wall, and skedaddled out the door.

Punch grabbed the gelding’s lead rope. “He’s a real jackass. I’ve been trying to saddle him for twenty minutes.”

The horse snorted and yanked back on the lead, he reared and punched out with his front hooves.

Punch jerked down on the lead. “Easy now.”

“You’re being too rough with him,” Coco said. “Charlatan just needs some love and understanding. That’s all.”

“I was thinking more like a two-by-four.” Mike watched the snarling Charlatan stomp and pull back from Punch’s hold.

“Michael West ...”

Mike reached up and grabbed the gelding’s ear. He twisted it in his fist. Dragging Punch across the stall, Charlatan pitched his head wildly until he forced Mike to let go.

Taking it all in from a distance, Shane leaned against the threshold of the stall. He scratched his head. “You want the twitch?”

“Yeah,” Mike yelled back while trying to help Punch gain control.

Shane turned to retrieve the heavy handled device with a loop of thick rope attached to the top. They would have to slip the horse’s upper lip through the rope, and then twist until it was taut around the lip, which caused great discomfort until it forced him to settle down and submit.

Filled with disdain, Coco gasped and grabbed Shane by his sleeve. “No, I don’t like twitches. They’re inhumane.”

Shane grew a cock-eyed smirk while once again catching a glimpse of her full cleavage. “Yeah, Mike, they’re kinda inhumane.”

The horse whirled his hind quarters around while taking a quick jab at Punch who stepped out of the way. “You want a shot at this, boy?” he asked Shane.

The horse yanked away from their grip. Tossing his head, he reared high into the air and danced on his hind feet, until he toppled over backward. Mike and Punch jumped back while the horse struggled to organize his feet before finally leaping up.

“He’s a flipper,” Mike said. “When he becomes agitated, he throws himself backward. Coco, how many time has this horse flipped?”

Gnawing on her manicured pinky, Coco demurred, “Well, ah, maybe once or twice.”

Mike’s suspicious gaze overwhelmed her.

“Okay, quite a few times, but only when provoked.”

Punch blinked hard. “Provoked? You mean like being saddled?” When Coco lifted a shoulder at him, he realized why Doug was so willing to give the horses up without much of a fuss. What were the other four horses capable of doing? His shock shifted to irritation.

Coco grabbed a bag of peppermints from her purse. Charlatan’s ears stood straight up at the sound of rustling paper. His eyes wide, he snorted when she stretched out her hand toward him with the plump round peppermint in her palm. The horse snatched the candy and sucked on it like a baby sucking on a pacifier. Stroking his thick muscled neck, she whispered, “There now, isn’t that better?”

With a searing stare, Punch turned to Mike. “You’ve got to be kidding me, dude.”

After a short deliberation, Mike and Punch decided to give Charlatan a shower and shelf the morning gallop until they could devise a plan. This seemed to be the best idea since the exercise rider was nowhere to be found.

While he turned his attention to one of Coco’s more cooperative Thoroughbreds, Mike suggested Punch move on to other horses.

The equine swimming facility was located at the far end of the stables. The Wests had added it three years earlier in order to provide a low-impact way to exercise horses to build better lung capacity and strong lean muscle without constantly pounding on their joints.

The afternoon sun beamed through the tall arched windows lining the perimeter of the facility to glint off the water in the pool. A long ramp dropped into the water for the horse to enter the swimming area and the walls were curved inward so that it could not climb out.

Mike and Coco could hear the soft hum of the pump when they went inside.

The strong smell of chlorine wafted through the facility where, from the edge, Shane was guiding a horse, snorting with every stroke of his legs, around the pool with a long staff attached to its halter. The horse’s ears were perked, his nostrils flared, and his head bopped up and down above the water while he swam.

Mike led a sleek sorrel mare that seemed harmless enough into the shower stall on the far end of the facility. “We have to give her a shower before she can swim,” he explained to Coco. “That way the pool stays clean.”

Nodding her head, Coco grabbed the hose from the hook on the wall and sprayed Mike hard in the chest when she depressed the nozzle. Her eyes widened and her mouth dropped. She grabbed her mouth with her hand. It seemed that Coco wass full of no-no’s. Some were easier to deal with than others.

Forcing a smile, Mike decided that every time the beautiful bombshell pulled a no-no, he would picture her naked. While the water soaked into his shirt to suck it against his chiseled chest, he made this one of those moments.

“I’m sorry,” she said through her fingers.

He removed the nozzle from her hand. “I’ll take it from here,” he replied with a calm that was as forced as his smile.

Across the pool, Shane’s cell phone played the tune
Brown Sugar
from The Rolling Stones.

“Hello. … Oh, Mr. Mason, I’ve been expecting your call,” he said into the phone while guiding the snorting horse through the water.

Coco nuzzled and cooed at the mare while Mike finished her shower. “Shane should almost be finished with that one.” He called out across the pool, “Are you almost done?”

Nodding to him, Shane continued his conversation with Tom Mason.

Coco watched Shane lead the horse through the water. Just walking around the pool while holding the guide staff seemed simple enough. “That looks like fun,” she said. “Can I try to swim mine, Mikey?” With a coquettish smile, she batted her long lashes.

“It’s Mike.”

He wasn’t at all sure that Coco was up to the task. The last thing he needed today was to have to fish her out of the pool. On the other hand, it really wasn’t that difficult to do. On the other hand, if she fell in, she could get hurt. On the other hand, that tight shirt she was wearing would show-off a lot of stuff if it were soaked.
He was all out of hands while picturing her naked. The two things weren’t jiving.

“I’ll tell you what … I’ll get her started, and then you can take over for a few minutes.”

Okay. That seems like a safe arrangement. I’ll be right there with her in case she pulls a no-no, like tripping over herself and taking a flying leap into the semi-clean horse water.

Mike led the mare toward the ramp when he spied an extra guide staff at the other end of the pool. “Can you get that staff for me, Coco?”

“Sure.” Delighted to help, she trotted toward the staff and past Shane.

Not at all concerned with Coco’s movements, Shane continued to talk on his cell phone while guiding the horse toward the ramp. “I assure you, Mr. Mason, this is the safest form of training you can do. For the horse as well as the person ...” he pledged, just as Coco bent over to pick up the long staff.

Mike’s gaze fell upon her smoothly curved derrière. Instantly, alarms went off in his head that she would strike Shane with the staff and knock him into the water. Panicked, Mike dropped the horse’s lead. He dashed toward Coco, snatched the staff from her grip, swung it around, and cracked Shane in the back.

His eyes wide, Shane teetered at the rim of the pool with his arms flailing in circles. Coco’s gasp at Mike’s sudden action distracted him, which caused him to swing the staff in the opposite direction and smack his brother in the stomach.

“Wh-wh-whoa!” Shane plunged head-first into the water.

Frantic, the Thoroughbred trounced in the pool. Shane surfaced to face the horse’s hooves thrashing through the water toward him. He needed to steer clear or be severely cut. Trying to push away from the animal, he swooshed his hands backward. The horse grunted at the chlorine now splashing into his eyes. His panic piqued.

Coco grabbed the staff. “Shane, get hold,” she called to him.

Shane swam toward the edge. Bouncing off the side of the pool, the staff poked the horse in the face to agitate it more, which created more thrashing. While dodging the horse’s hooves, Shane pawed at the water until he clutched the staff and managed to lift it over his head.

Coco leaned over the edge of the pool. The wet, slick, wooden staff slipped through Shane’s hands several times before she finally grabbed hold of it.