Love Somebody Like You (9 page)

Ben gazed up at her from where he sat on a stool, cleaning a bridle. “Anything I can do?”

“She'll probably foal with no problems, but I'll keep an eye on her. With the outside light turned on low, I can see her out the office window and she'll still have privacy.”

He had noticed the shabby old sofa in the barn office, set facing the window. “You're going to stay up all night, waiting to see if she foals? Sometimes it can take a couple of days.”

“They usually foal at night, so it'll likely be tonight or tomorrow night. I won't worry as much during the day.”

“You plan to stay up for two nights? You do this whenever you have a pregnant mare?”

“There are only a couple each year. Ben, I don't want anything happening to my mares or to their foals.”

“No, of course not. I'll spell you off. We'll take shifts.”

“I can't let you—”

“Gaaah! Sometimes you piss me off, Sally.”

She flinched, tensing in the doorway as if she was ready to run.

He lowered his voice, but didn't hide his annoyance. “Don't look at me like I'm going to hit you. I would never do that, no matter how mad you make me.”

“I'm not trying to make you mad,” she said in a placating tone that grated on his nerves. He'd rather she stood up for herself than backed down.

“Could have fooled me,” he grumbled. “Anyhow, I'm not going to argue. We'll take shifts so we'll both be reasonably functional tomorrow. Otherwise you'll be exhausted and I'll have to do all the heavy lifting.” He raised his sling. “Which won't be good for my shoulder.”

Her head tilted to one side as she thought about it. “Okay. You have a point. What is it, almost nine?” She checked her watch. “I'll take the first four hours. I'll do some work on the computer and keep an eye on Song. I'll wake you at one and you can take the second shift.”

Yeah, like he trusted her to rouse him? “No, I'm wide awake.” Not because he wasn't tired, more due to the pain in his shoulder. “I'll take the first shift.” When she opened her mouth, he held up his hand. “Don't even think of trying to argue.”

He stood. “Tack's done. I'm gonna make a thermos of coffee and get my tablet.” And take a painkiller. “Then I'll settle down in the office and do some e-mail, read, entertain myself. You go on up to the house and get some sleep. Keep your cell handy. I'll call if Song goes into labor.”

“No, I'll stay in the barn. If there's a problem, things can happen fast. A couple years back, we had a red bag delivery.”

He'd heard the term before, but never seen one. “That's where the placenta separates from the uterus, and it's delivered first?”

“Yes. It can be fatal for the foal if you don't cut the placenta and get the foal out immediately.”

“Sounds scary.”

“Terrifying. But I'd seen it once before, when I was a teen, so I knew what to do.”

“Okay, I hear you. Stay in the barn and I'll wake you if anything changes with Song.”

She pressed her lips together and studied him solemnly.

“Sally, I won't go to sleep. I promise. You can trust me.”

Chapter Seven

Trust Ben with her horses? They were the most important thing in the world to her.

But he loved horses too, and would never want to see one come to harm. “All right,” Sally said. “You go and get your stuff. Oh, I put a couple of eggs on your trailer steps—my ladies' contribution to your breakfast.”

“Nice. Thank them for me, will you?”

After he left, she went out to ready Song for foaling and whisper reassuring words to her. Back in the barn, she checked on Campion. His hoof showed no sign of swelling or heat. “You'll have a new shoe tomorrow, boy. I bet you'll be glad to go out in the paddock with your friends.”

In the office, she checked e-mail. No new students or boarders, but she remembered the slip of paper Ben had given her. Though she was shy about calling a stranger, she forced herself to do it. Andrew's voice immediately put her at ease. He sounded excited; after he had a quick conversation with his husband they agreed on Monday morning for the first lesson.

Sally was about to shut down the computer when another e-mail popped into her Inbox. It was an application for Corrie's position, from a young man. She responded, saying that the job was no longer available. Then, with Corrie on her mind, she sent her a quick note.

Ben stepped into the room, his size and presence making the space feel crowded.

“Guess what?” she said. “Andrew and his husband are coming for a lesson on Monday.”

“Cool. Now turn off the computer and get some rest.”

Could she sleep on the sofa, with him so close by? She could go up to the apartment Corrie had used, but if anything went wrong with Song, every second could be crucial. Stalling, she said, “They're software designers and work at home, so they have flexible schedules. I'm glad they can come Monday morning; it's one of my slow times.”

“Good. Now curl up on the sofa. I'll use the desk chair.”

The hard wooden chair with the straight back. It would kill his shoulder.

“The sofa's too small for curling up.” She sat at one end, up against the armrest, and raised her booted feet to the battered coffee table. “You can sit on the other side.” She'd be happier if this were a four-seater rather than a two-seater. Not that she thought Ben was going to attack her in her sleep, but being close to him was unsettling.

He clicked off the office light. It was nine-thirty. The sun had only just set and there was still some light in the sky as well as that coming from the dim outside barn light.

Gazing out, Sally said, “Song is pacing.”

Ben sat down on the other side of the sofa and opened his thermos. “Coffee?” he offered.

“No, thanks.”

He poured himself a cup and she almost wished she'd said yes. The brew smelled stronger and richer than the economy brand she bought. Balancing his tablet on his lap, he manipulated the touch screen. He wasn't a huge man—bronc riders usually weren't—but all his lean, muscled masculinity seemed to take up a lot of space even though their bodies didn't touch. Or maybe it was just that she was so aware of his physicality. Of his male strength—something that could be scary. Of his heat, and his scent like pine needles in summer—things that were scary in a different way, tugging at something inside her, urging her to move closer.

Instead, she turned her head away, closed her eyes, and tried to relax her neck muscles. She forced herself to take slow, deep breaths, but sleep was a long way off.

She was aware of Ben shifting position, reaching for his coffee. At first, each movement made her tense up, but gradually she got used to having him there. He was watching over Song, and it almost felt as if he was watching over her, too....

“Sally?” A quiet voice drew her out of wherever she'd been floating.

“Hmm?” Her heavy eyelids didn't want to open. Her cheek rested on soft fabric, with heat and hardness beneath it. A strange pillow, but surprisingly comfortable. Something stroked her right arm gently, up and down, and—

Her eyes flew open. Oh, Lord, she was cuddled up against Ben, her head on his good shoulder and his arm around her. She jerked away. “Sorry.”

“Don't be. It was nice. But I think Song's having contractions. She's swishing her tail and nosing at her flank. She lay down then got up again.”

Sally jumped up and flew to the window. The horse sank to the ground and then rose restlessly. “I think you're right.” She glanced at her watch. Eleven-thirty.

Ben joined her as the palomino went down again, on her side, and fluid gushed from her body. “Her water broke. It's coming,” Sally breathed, starting to count time on her watch. An uncomplicated labor went amazingly fast; the foal could be born within five minutes. “Song's pushing; I can see her muscles working.” She'd lost track of how many foals she'd seen born since the first when she was five years old, but each time filled her with wonder. Excitement, fear, hope.

Not long after, Ben said, “I see the membrane—and a foot!” His tone conveyed the same sense of wonder. When he stepped closer and grasped her hand, his touch felt surprisingly right and she didn't move away.

Squinting in the dim light, she said, “Another foot. The front legs are coming out. We should see the head any second now.”

But nothing happened. The two forelegs remained extended from the horse's body, but the head didn't appear. Sally checked her watch. It was four minutes since the membrane had broken. “Come on, Song,” she muttered. “Come on, little baby, come out now. Please be okay.”

Sally slid her cell from her shirt pocket. “I wonder if we need to pull the foal out? Or reach in and turn the head?” She thumbed to the vet's number at the top of her contact list. It had now been five minutes. She pressed the screen and listened to the phone ring. “Pick up, Max. Please.”

Only two rings, then the vet, Maxine Grey, said crisply, “Sally, what's up?”

“It's Sunshine Song.” She recited exactly what had happened. “I still don't see the head.”

“Its head and neck may be bent backward. Don't try to turn it or push the legs back in. Get the mare up and walking. We don't want her pushing, and we want to reduce pressure in the birth canal. Ideally, the foal will slide back into the uterus by itself and get repositioned.”

Phone to her ear, Sally raced to the tack room to get a halter with a lead rope. “What if that doesn't happen?”

“I'm on my way. I may be able to reposition the foal. If not, I'll have to bring Song in and do a C-section—or do an emergency one on-site. But let's not cross that bridge yet. I'm in my truck and I'm hanging up now. If anything happens that worries you, call and I'll answer.”

“Thanks.” Sally rushed outside, the halter in her hand.

Ben was on her heels. Voice low, he asked, “What's the scoop? Can I help?”

“Maybe.” Whispering, she filled him in.

Approaching the horse, she crooned, “Hey there, Song. I'm afraid you're going to have to take an intermission. You can't push. You've got to get up and walk. Max will be here soon.”

To Ben, she said, “You talk to her, too. Stroke her, soothe her.”

He obeyed, his voice low and reassuring, while Sally put the halter on. She pulled lightly but steadily on the rope. “Up now, Song.”

The palomino shifted her weight, gathered herself, and then with a grunt rose awkwardly.

“Ben, you lead her.” Sally put the rope in his hand. “I'll walk beside her.” She positioned herself at the horse's shoulder, resting a comforting hand on Song's sweaty coat and telling her that everything was going to be okay. As she tried to calm the horse with her touch and words, Sally realized that Ben's quiet support was having that very effect on her.

 

 

It was after two when Ben walked with Sally and the vet, Max, to the parking lot. He wondered how often Max got called out at night after putting in a full day's work. Hell of a job. One that she clearly did very well, and loved. As Max loaded her medical kit into her truck, Sally asked, “You really think Moon Song will be okay? And Sunshine Song?”

“They're looking good,” Max said reassuringly. “Once the foal adjusted his position, the delivery seemed perfectly normal.”

They'd been lucky. The foal's legs had slipped back into his mom's body as she walked. When the vet arrived and did an internal exam, she'd confirmed that his position was correct. They had let the restless palomino lie down again, and the foal had slid out in the space of a couple of minutes. A perfect black colt.

“Check them around dawn,” Max instructed. “If Moon Song hasn't passed the meconium or isn't urinating, or if you see any other possible problems, give me a call. Don't forget to dip the umbilical stump in antiseptic solution every few hours. I'll drop by this afternoon when I get a chance.”

Max glanced from Sally to Ben, and back again. “You two have had a long night. Might as well get some sleep.” Her tone was neutral. Deliberately so, it seemed to him.

Sally'd been so anxious about her horse, she hadn't introduced Ben to the vet. He'd done it himself, giving Max his name and saying he was Sally's new assistant. Now he kept any hint of innuendo from his voice when he said, “Sounds good. Night, Max. Nice to meet you.”

“You too, Ben.”

As Max drove away, Sally plopped down on a mounting block. “Whew.” She blew out air. “That was scary.”

“All's well that ends well, right? Let's follow Max's advice and get some shut-eye. It'll be dawn before we know it.”

“I think I should stay up.” She rotated an obviously stiff neck and he heard it crunch.

“Sore neck?”

“It tightens up when I'm worried.”

He could help with that, if she let him. The woman had slept in the curve of his arm. Maybe her body had just slumped over, but he wanted to believe that her instincts told her to trust him. Stepping behind her, he removed his left arm from the sling and gently rested both hands on her shoulders. Her shoulders rose, tense, but she didn't shake him off or move away. Encouraged, he massaged lightly, through her sweatshirt. She remained taut, then her muscles loosened under his hands.

His shoulder ached fiercely, but a few minutes of massage shouldn't do any real damage.

He moved from her sweatshirt to the bare skin of her neck, working his thumbs into the knots. “You're all locked up,” he said quietly. His hands warmed as he worked, and so did her skin. She even tilted her head slightly, giving him better access.

It wasn't only his hands that were heating. Arousal was thick in his blood, tightening his groin. He tried to ignore his own physical sensations.

What mattered was that Sally was starting to trust him. Sharing tonight—the worry, and then the joy of a healthy foal—had helped. Slowly, she was coming to realize that he wasn't a bad guy like the man who'd hurt her. All Ben wanted to do was help, to make her life easier.

Well, really he wanted a lot more than that. He wanted to change his massaging strokes to caressing ones, to press his lips to her soft, heated skin. But he wouldn't.

“Max seems pretty smart,” he murmured. Gently, he braced the left side of Sally's head in the curve of his palm so he could work the right side of her neck.

“She is.” She tipped her head more snugly into his hand, stretching her neck under his fingers.

He swallowed back a groan of need and tried to sound normal. “She says the two Songs will be fine until morning. And for you, she prescribed sleep.”

The inflection in her voice when she answered told him she was smiling. “She's a horse doctor, not a people one.”

He didn't respond, didn't argue, just kept rubbing her neck.

“Okay,” she said, “I guess she's right. We should both—wait, what are you doing?” She slipped free from his hands, rose, and turned to face him. “Ben! Put your arm back in that sling!”

Rolling his eyes, he said, “Yes, ma'am,” glad that her gaze was focused on his face, not below his waist. “I'll do that, because I for one can listen to good advice. I'm heading off to bed. See you at dawn.”

She nodded, her face unnaturally pale in the moonlight. “Ben?” Gazing up at him, she seemed to be considering her words. “Thank you for being there tonight. It made everything easier. Nicer.”

His heart warmed. “Hey, I wouldn't have missed it for the world.” He wanted to kiss her. Just one soft, light kiss. On her lips, or he'd even settle for her forehead. But they'd come a long way tonight and he didn't want to risk spoiling things. He raised his good hand in a salute and walked toward his rig, feeling her gaze on his back. Or maybe that was just wishful thinking. He wouldn't turn and find out.

Inside his cramped home, he took a pain pill, had a long drink of water, stripped off his clothes, and eased his aching body into bed. Into his mind came the image of Sally's dazzling smile when that little black colt tottered to its feet. Grinning himself, he tumbled into sleep.

 

 

Dawn light and a medley of bird trills, chirps, and twitters woke Ben what seemed like only minutes later, and he groaned. But then he remembered the events of the night.

Anxious to see how the mare and foal were doing, hopeful that the new mellowness between him and Sally would continue, he clambered out of bed.