Natural Attraction (7 page)

The extra two hours I soon discovered, were unnecessary.  I had had to put him back in his paddock and find myself some household chores to fill the time so I didn’t arrive at Jax’s too early.

“Good news.  I see you’re already reaping the benefits of taking some time to get to know him.” Jax replies glancing at me from the float with an ‘I told you so’ look on his face.  “Do you need to use my dunny or can I get you a drink or something?”

“Um, no, I’m good.” I reply hesitantly.  “Shouldn’t we be getting Maverick off the float first?”

“Nope, no rush.  Let him be for a few minutes.  Too many people make the mistake of getting to their destination and launching out of their vehicles to get their horse off the float.  It doesn’t take many replays of this pattern for a horse to cotton on to this and he will start to become impatient on arrival at any destination.  You see that behavior most commonly playing out with horses that are fussing in their float, pawing the floor and yelling out a lot.”

Smart thinking.

I would never have thought of that myself. 

I had to admit that
with Twinkle we
always
arrived at a venue and unloaded him as quickly as possible.  In fact, I would launch out of the car to unload Twinkle as soon as the car pulled to a stop.  It was then my job to keep him amused (he bored easily), for the next half hour or so while my parents set up our travel yards or went off to book in at an event. 

It had never occurred to me that I might have been doing the wrong thing.  I did remember the tear marks in the rubber on the front of the float from where he often became inpatient on arrival at an event.  Especially at events where we were told not to unload him until registration had been completed.

I hear Maverick shuffle his feet in the float and then he resettles to resume chewing on the hay-net.  I have stuffed nearly a whole bale of hay in it this morning to make sure he doesn’t run out even though it is only an hour-long trip between here and my place.

“Okay, well in that case, yes, use of your toilet would be greatly appreciated.”

“I’ve got one in the barn you can use.  Head through the front roller door and turn left.  There’s a wash trough and a small fridge there as well.  You can put any drinks or snacks you brought in there if you like.”  

I see him glance at me again, his glasses moving to show that his eyes are running down from my face to my chest.  They linger on my chest just a fraction too long and then slide further down to my feet before finally sweeping back up to my eyes.  A small smirk that makes his dimples pop catches my attention.

“What’s so funny?”

“Nice pants,” he says, a mocking tone now creeping into his voice. 

His eyebrows lift ever so slightly above the rim of his sunglasses to further prove his amusement. 

“What did you say?” I bark, anger starting to burn a pit in my stomach. 

How dare he?

How dare he comment on my brand-new, super cool, super awesome, hot pink, denim jodhpurs? 

No one, I mean no one, gets permission to mock my new hot pink jodhpurs which have the coolest fake pockets on the back.  They also have super awesome scrolled lettering in the middle of each pocket.  

I
love
these jodhpurs.

Not one to be led by fashion normally, I had taken one look at these beauties hanging in the window of the local horse supplies store last week and I’d had to have them.  In fact, I’d bought three pairs in case I trashed the first or second pairs.

Today is their maiden flight and I have matched them off with a black, skintight, short sleeved t-shirt.  The t-shirt hugs firmly across my rather large breasts as it swings down over my flat belly where I have it tucked in. 

I have finished the look with a pair of shiny black riding boots that give me what I think is one of those ‘just stepped out of the horse-wear catalogue’ looks.  To top it all off I have pulled my dark brown hair up into a loose ponytail that is sticking through the back hole of my black, ‘Poverty is owning a horse’ cap. 

“I said nice pants.  They really are.  I like the way they show off your butt.  That combined with the clear view of your plump, eye attracting camel toe makes them
real
nice.”

Mortification hits me.

Oh my God.

Did he just say he c
an see my camel toe?  How embarrassing. 

How the hell did I not notice that? 

I suppose it may have had something to do with the fact that when I had checked myself in the mirror I had only looked at my rear.  Each time I had twirled to get a view of my cool rear pockets and not just stood there looking at myself front on.  Knowing now that he could see it, I stood staring at him with my mouth wide open, literally gob smacked. 

Thoughts of the
‘Camel Toe’
song fly through my head.  Then I have worse thoughts.  Thoughts of conversations about various females who walk around with camel toes and what people think of them.

“How fucking rude
are
you?” I blurt.  “Who says that straight to someone’s face?”

“Probably someone,” he pauses then resumes in a slow clear voice, “
Who is saying it to someone… Who asked him if he was gay last time they spoke.”

He continues to smirk cheekily with those damned dimples popping in and out. 

“Probably someone who figures the person he is telling it to is someone who can give as good as she gets.”

He has a point. 

There go my hopes that he isn’t going to talk about our last conversation.  I feel the angry and embarrassed little monsters in my stomach begin to curl back up into safe little snoozy balls and I breathe out.

“Fair enough I suppose. 
One all.  You do realize I’m going to have to change now don’t you?
And
it is lucky that I have some black,
loose
fitting tracksuit pants in my car!” I announce with an air of annoyance.

“Don’t change on my account, I told you I
like
your pants.”

He chuckles as he turns around and strides towards one of the day yards looking like he is going to finish whatever errand he had been on when I came up the driveway.

I take another deep breath, head back to my car to grab my water bottle, the salad roll I have made for lunch
and
my tracksuit pants.  I then head to the barn to change.

*****

Whatever errand Jax headed off to do, it takes about the same time as it takes me to go to the toilet, change, and stow my lunch in the bar fridge in the barn.  We both arrive back at my float at the same time and I notice Jax is still carrying the rope halter with the long lead.

“You changed,” he smirks
. “Way to ruin a man’s day.”

I harrumph at him and chose to ignore his smart assed comment.  

“Are we going to get Maverick off the float now?”  I ask.

“Yep.
  But first I want to swap his halter over to one of mine.  Here take this.”
He hands me the rope halter.

I stare at it briefly, feeling the softness of the yacht braid it
is made of before admitting, “I have no idea how to do one of these up.”

“That’s not unusual.  I know a lot of folks have never used one.  Here let me show you how it works.”

He takes the halter back, opens the front door of my float and gestures for me to go in front of him.  I jump in, let Maverick sniff my hand and give him a gentle rub between the eyes while I wait for Jax to follow me. 

Maverick pricks his ears at me but moves his eyes quickly to Jax as he comes through the door.  He then slowly swings his head in the other direction as if pretending to stare at the wall on the far side of the float.

Jax notes this and stops where he is halfway in and halfway out of the float.  I am about to ask him what is wrong when Maverick’s head slowly swings back and his ears prick again as he looks cautiously at Jax.  Jax then holds his hand out with the halter lying loosely over his palm and Maverick has a quick sniff.  After sniffing he seems happy enough for Jax to approach.

Jax turns to me and starts to unfold the halter that is still lying across his palm. 

“Okay Ash.  This is the nosepiece here, and this is the bit that goes over the back of the head here.”

He points to each part as he explains. 

“When you go to put it on him, you should always bring one arm up under his head and on the other side like this, and make sure his nose tips slightly towards you.  Don’t be in a hurry, take your time and you can rub it on and off his head a few times to make it a more pleasurable experience.”

He then continues to demonstrate by gently rubbing Maverick with the halter and then stopping what he is doing to step back with the halter in his hand.

“Now you can go ahead and take that other one off.”

“But he won’t be tied up!” I blurt quickly.

“Does he look like he has anywhere to go?  I don’t tie my horses up in the float at all.  It's safer that way.”

“Oh.  If you say so, I’ll take your word for it.” I concede.

I carefully undo the buckles on Mavericks halter and slide it off.  Jax hands me the rope halter and I do my best to mimic his previous moves by asking Maverick to tip his nose towards me.  With his nose tipped, I slide the halter on and off a few times.  I then rather awkwardly slide the headpiece up and behind his ears but then falter as I have no idea what to do with the two ends to tie them together.

Sensing my confusion, Jax steps forward and I feel his chest brush softly up against my back.  He puts an arm either side of my head and gently takes the two pieces of rope from my hands. 

My senses swoon.

I am assaulted by the sweet scent of soap, clean man and horse all at once. 

I resist the urge to lean back and let myself relax into his chest fearing I will make even more of an idiot of myself.  Instead I focus my attention on the golden blonde hairs scattered haphazardly along his strong muscle-bound forearms as he quickly ties the knot of the halter. 

As fast as he does it up, he undoes it again and then hands it to me.

“Think of it is a post and piece of wire.  The wire goes around the post.  The post never goes around the wire,” he explains.

“Sorry, I missed that.” I apologize.

Damn if those tanned arms aren’t the biggest distraction on earth.

“Here, once more for the viewers,” he says as he quickly shows me the knot again.

This time I manage to drag my eyes from his forearms only to become acutely aware of his groin rubbing against my backside.  I am then further distracted by the dexterity with which his long, roughly callused fingers quickly tie the knot. 

Concentrate woman!

“Um, I think I might be able to do it this time…  Perhaps if you could move out of my way it would help…  I’m feeling a bit claustrophobic.”

I am lying brazenly.  Right now I need him to get his body away from mine before I swoon and melt into a sloppy pile of Ashleigh on the floor of this float.

I feel his warm breath against the back of my neck.

“Sure, if you think you can handle it.  That said, I
’m enjoying the feel I am copping, aren’t you?”

H
e’s doing it on purpose?

God help me.

This is all going from bad to worse.  How on earth am I going to learn
anything
if he continues with his teasing and touching the whole time I’m here?

Not fair.

“No…  Well actually… Yes.  But let me say, you are not playing fair and believe it or not I
am
here to learn, and I
am
here for Maverick, so please refrain from the alpha male act and lets’ get on with this show.”

“As you wish,” he chuckles as he backs out of the float to leave me to it.  “I’ll go put the tailgate down and you can let him out.”

*****

After unloading Maverick, Jax shows me to the small yard I can use to give Maverick a chance to unwind during times we aren’t working with him. 

After setting Maverick loose, Jax offers to show me around his place and introduce me to his horses.  This is an offer I am excited to accept.  Not only does it give us something to talk about, but I am super excited to get the chance to meet the lovely black Arabian I saw on the way up the driveway.

Jax shows me through his barn pointing out the many features including a tack room, a separate feed room, a wash bay with a full-size crush for veterinary use, and six roomy stalls, some occupied by horses, some vacant.

He shows me his round yard, day yards, broodmare paddocks and youngster paddocks.  He takes me on a tour of his larger paddocks as well.  The larger paddocks mainly hold his riding horses as he explains that he likes them to be able to preserve a level of their own fitness moving around and he hates to see fit horses standing in small yards.