Poker Face (8 page)

Megan slipped her bare feet into a pair of rain boots by the front
door, Griffin’s or one of the other guys, too large for her delicate feet. She
felt ridiculous in the boots, like a waddling duck with no direction. “Let go!”
she screamed sloshing out into the rain.

It felt as if someone had taken a bucket of ice water and tossed a
wave of it at her front side. She shuddered from the cold, wet rain, but she
didn’t stop. Couldn’t stop. Something about the whole scene caused an
unsettling feeling deep in her stomach. She batted damp eyes against the rain.

Her white button down shirt hung open, wrinkled and heavy at her
side. Underneath that shirt she wore a white tank top, both shirts soaked, her
black bra showing through. The jean fabric of her shorts was also drenched,
weighted down, hanging low on her waist showing her navel. Fingers fisted, “You
stubborn old man, it’s not that difficult… just let go!”

Tink’s hold tightened. “Can’t.”

“Why the hell not? You’re going to get yourself killed!” Megan
reached for the rope. “If you’re not going to listen, then at least let me help
you!”

“You can help by finding Drew. He’ll know how to calm her.”

Her?

Her gaze went to the snorting horse tossing its head: the elegant
legs bending and straightening, the white strip between erratic deep brown eyes
searching for something… or someone.

“What’s her name?” she yelled over the drum of the rain, not sure
why it mattered all of sudden.

Tink gritted his teeth, “No offense beautiful, but this isn’t a
good time for chit chat, go tell Drew she’s lost it again!”

“I’m not leaving you,” she insisted.

Lightening lashed across the sky, having the same effect as the
crack of a whip on the creature’s tail end. Five seconds, that’s all it took
for them both to realize the horse was going for it, to hell with whoever stood
in its way. Megan grabbed the rope tight feeling the sting as the horse charged
forward jerking Tink and her along with it. They both dug their heels into the
wet ground. Rope snapped taunt as the horse reached the end of the slack. Every
muscle in her body tensed. Oh no. Oh no. she kept chanting over and over in her
mind. Would they be able to hold their ground or would they be pulled face
first into the mud?

“Let go, Meg,” Tink ground out his knuckles turning white around
the rope.

“You first.”

“Uh huh. Ladies first.”

“I’m not letting go until you do.”

“Drew’s right. You are as stubborn as this horse.”

There was a clicking sound from somewhere behind Megan, then
another set of warm hands were over hers on the rope. Her heart soared. She was
wet, cold, and trembling, and didn’t want to be where she was. Relief slammed
into her as she glanced up to see Drew standing beside her, and realized the
clicking sound was coming from him. He was calling the horse, and the horse was
responding, calming.

“Get back…I got this,” he said taking the rope from her hands and
rolling it up like a garden hose. He moved closer and closer to the wild eyed
animal, one slow step at a time.

Another crack of lightening!

The horse reared, clomped sideways throwing its head and neighing.

“Drew!” she begged.

The horse reared and struck, a hoof coming dangerously close to
Drew’s head. Her eyes snapped closed! Tears came quick then; she didn’t know if
it was all the excitement, or worry about this guy she barely knew, but she
couldn’t stop the tears. She wiped them away with the tilt of her chin, feeling
silly and praying no one noticed how weak she felt weak.

The rain stopped, quickly as it had started, it was over. Rays of
sunlight pushed through the broken clouds.

“Shh, she won’t hurt me.” Drew didn’t even blink as he forcefully
took hold of the horse’s harness on both sides and looked the animal square in
the eyes. His brows pulled in and his jaw flexed. For a brief tense moment,
Megan thought he might strike the animal to show who was in charge, but instead
he unhooked the lead rope from the harness and stepped back setting the animal
free.

“You mean, after everything we just went through… you’re just
going to let him have his way?”

“Her,” he corrected. The rope hit a puddle as Drew cast it a few
feet away, “and this is none of your business, Filly” The horse snorted raising
her head in a last flicker of defiance. It didn’t last long. Drew stroked the
velvety part of the horse’s nose with his fingers, his face softening as he
blew at the horses pulsating nostrils. “You and I have an understanding…don’t
we, Angel?”

Megan’s mouth dropped. She watched Drew step back, turn and
casually walk up to the barn. He clicked his tongue and within minutes the
horse followed switching her tail.

“Damndest thing I’ve ever seen.” Tink shook his head gathering the
discarded rope and hanging it on a hook by the barn door. “I don’t know about
you, but I worked up an appetite… thinking about hunting down some leftovers in
the kitchen? Care to join me?”

Something pulled her gaze to that barn.

Curiosity?

Disbelief?

She had to know. “You go ahead. I think I’ll check on….”

Tinks mouth turned up. “Drew?”

“The horse… it was pretty spooked.”

“Yeah, whatever you say beautiful. Go easy on him,”Tink shot over
his shoulder making his way back up to the house.

Megan had no plans of going in. It was understandable for her to
want to see the barn, since she now owned it, or at least that’s what she
mumbled as she lingered by the door staring in. There were five stalls on each
side, another door straight ahead, open, blue sky and green fields, overhead
was a hay loft. The barn smelled sweet and of aged wood, soft leather saddles
and damp horse, was kept clean with fresh hay spilling out of each stall. She
saw six horses, all impressive breeds: stallions, Appaloosas, and Arabians.

How Megan had been there for three days and not noticed the horses
was kind of unnerving. Was she blind? Or only seeing what she wanted to see?

Drew’s horse was already in her stall eating apple slices out of
his cupped hand. He ran a gentle hand along her slender neck. "Sorry girl,
I should have brought you in before the storm hit. A lot's been going on.
Forgive me?" The horse nuzzled Drew's side as if to say she would forgive
him of anything.

Awestruck, Megan felt herself drawn forward.

Drew’s white T-shirt and cargo shorts were soaked. His messy, damp
hair beginning to flip was what her mother would have called “shaggy,
unacceptable for any responsible business man”. But Drew was anything, but business,
the exact opposite. He wore what he wanted, done what he wanted, and answered
to no one. It was as if he gave the finger to anything conventional. And to
her.

The guy was a walking contradiction. Son of a Millionaire, though
he put no importance on money. Country boy, though he wore flip-flops and
polo’s. Cold hearted smart-ass, though he loved animals, old cripples, and mute
kids. What else about him was a contradiction? How her belly reacted to this
new
information
was kind of unnerving. She’d heard of “feeling
butterflies” but never experienced them until then.

She was careful not to make a sound, but failed miserably. Drew
turned giving her a brief chilling assessment causing her to freeze mid-step.
His gaze slid from her as he walked over and starting putting out water and
feed for the other horses.

What now?

Stand there and look like a fool.

No.

She’d come to check on the horse, and that’s what she intended to
do. Confident in her right to do so she went over the horse that was eyeing her
with disinterest as it crunched on the last of its apple slice. If she didn’t
know better she’d believe the horse purposely shunned her by turning so its
rear end was backed up to the stall door, instead of its head like before. If
she wanted to pet something it was going to have to be its ass. Megan stood
there awkwardly, hearing Drew chuckle from the other side of the barn.

“Come here horsey…” she called reaching over the gate clicking her
tongue just as Drew had done. The horse looked back, snorted.

“You’re crowding her,” Drew said after a while.

“I’m just trying to pet the stupid animal.”

She heard the sound of footsteps coming closer, the brush of his
overwhelming presence by her side. He covered her hand that was on the stall
door with his own hand causing her to draw in a sharp breath and hold it. Like
hell she’d let him see she was affected by his touch. He’d never touched her so
tenderly. Lifting her hand he led her over to the next stall and placed her
palm on the neck of the black Arabian standing tall and proud. “Well, you’re
never going to do it like that. Here… rub Twilight.”

“I don’t want to rub this one,” she hated the bratty tone of her
voice at that moment, and decided for once to do what was asked of her without
any further questions. He wanted her away from his precious “Angel”, who was
she to pout about it. Her hand felt the silky flesh between Twilight’s
quivering nostrils and she was filled with sadness, reminiscing over happier
times.

“What are you thinking about?” Drew’s breath warmed the curve of
her neck causing goosebumps to rise all over her flesh.

“My father….” She started and felt a sudden nudge against her left
arm. “Angel” voicing her desire to be rubbed by running her velvety nose up and
down Megan’s arm. Drew smiled, “See, all you had to do was give her some space
and time to warm up to you.”

“Is that why she’s so partial to you? You ignore her until she
begs for your attention?” Megan wasn’t sure what she was inquiring about, his
experience with the horse or women in general. Quiet, awkward silence,
surrounded them. They held gazes, her hand idly stroking the horse’s muzzle.
She couldn’t help noticing his eyes had dropped to her lips, and she quickly
took a step back. “I….I should get up to the house, before Tink starts assuming
we’re…”

“We’re…what?” he prompted for more, leaning in close enough that
she felt his breath light as a feather over her lips. He smelled like the rain,
and his body’s warmth enveloped her creating a pull hard to resist. Wet curls
were beginning to flip up just below his ears and she wanted so bad to put her
fingers there. Her eyes followed his strong jaw line to his lips, which were
slightly parted, her eyes lifted to his and she saw him staring at her mouth
with the same interest. He raised his hand, and trailed a gentle finger down
the side of her neck, out over the shape of her collarbone, back around to the
hollow space where she was certain he could feel her having difficulty
swallowing. Every part of her body hummed. If he could make her feel that much
with just one finger…..

Megan slowly took another step back knowing exactly how the horse
felt when someone invaded its space, she whirled around to make a quick escape,
and rammed into someone.

“Hey! Watch it!” the girl squealed the high pitched tone of her
voice made Megan cringe. She pushed Megan out of the way, and straightened her
little sun dress. Her nose wrinkled as she studied Megan over tinted sunglasses
perched on a thin nose. Hair the color of straw fell in perfect curls, parting
over her willowy shoulders. Her hands went to her waist as her stance shifted
in her stilettos. “Who’s the wet mutt, Drew?”

Wet mutt? Who the hell did Ms. Florida think she was? Megan was
five seconds away from giving her a shove she would remember when it dawned on
her. The girl was right. She looked like crap, worse than crap, hideous: her
hair was damp and tangled, her clothes were saturated, and she flinched as she
stared down at the chunky boots.

She looked like a cross between Big Foot and little orphan Annie!

"Excuse me, I was just going..." Megan tried to maneuver
around the girl, but it was hopeless. A corner of the girl’s mouth quirked with
understanding, and she purposely blocked Megan in.