Saddled (The Stables Trilogy #3) (9 page)

Reece brushed him off. “I suppose you could paint her, then. My way or the highway, I believe they say.”

Maple sucked in a breath between her teeth. This was like watching two bulls locking horns. In her mind, Reece was dressed as Spanish bull, all red and flash, clashing against J.B.’s battered war-bull. 

In the end, J.B. relented silently, stalking from the studio and slamming the door shut behind him.

Reece turned his dark, eager gaze to her. “So, my lovely stable girl. Your turn.” He sauntered over to her. “I suppose that nickname means something different now, you naughty thing.”

He wanted to play.

Maple stamped once, coyly.

“This is going to be terribly fun,” he whispered, moving behind her, his fingers trailing the top of her back and sweeping her hair up and over one shoulder.

She smiled at him, and knew that he was going to try and trick her into speaking. Maple didn't have much to hold on to. Even now her mind sought to play on repeat the sounds of Brie moaning in the grooming area or the gentle touch of J.B.’s hand on the brunette’s hip. Waiting for her in the stable was an enemy out to hurt her.

She was tired, and she was dirty, and Reece was an unexpected breath of fresh air. But he wouldn’t be able to trick her.

“Now, let's see, how shall we pose you?”  He continued around her, greedily taking in every naked inch. Maple heart fluttered, but she refused to let him intimidate her. What was it like for J.B., knowing that his friends, his other employees had all seen her naked? Maple blushed, realizing she hadn’t given it much thought.

He led her over to the cart and mannequins. She was very familiar with the style of his paintings, having looked them over in detail her first night at the ranch. They were dark, torturous, and exotic. The women in his paintings were often twisted, rising in the agony-pleasure. He liked them submissive and wanton, with dark figures looming menacingly in the background.

Those first viewings had been uncomfortable, the familiarity of the women in his art itching under her skin. She could easily have been the star in each painting, with Tony the faceless slave driver in the background.

While this was his job now, to paint her, Maple found herself shying away from being dressed in the black patent bondage items. It felt too much like moving backward, like trying to force herself back into a skin she’d been bent on shedding.

But Reece began to shove the mannequins and cart away, and tossed the bondage gear completely aside. Maple’s stomach unknotted some, her heart inquisitive.

Reece busied himself with clearing the space. “It’s painfully obvious, Maple, that this is some bizarre attempt to win J.B.”

Rolling her eyes, she stamped once. Yes.

He rolled his own eyes, mimicking her in good and forgiving humor. “That’s dumb. You already had him. Now you’re simply making him crazy.”

Yeah, right. That’s why he was all over Brie.

Stop that.

She did, squelching the voice of doubt quickly. The urge to explain to Reece was sitting like a rock on her diaphragm, demanding out. Reece waited for an answer or reply, and when none came, he shrugged and moved on.

“He’s made it abundantly clear that I am supposed to make you look as valuable as possible, so he won’t regret selling you to a high bidder.”

Maple blanched, her mouth falling open a little. Reece nodded sympathetically. “He intends to sell you, Lovely. In his mind, I don’t think he knows how to allow for another option.”

She was in serious danger of being sick. If she’d managed to eat breakfast that morning, it would be on the studio floor. Sensing her distress, Reece came to the rescue. “Don’t worry. I won’t let him. We’ll make you valuable, enticing, but just for him. Trust me.”

The same advice he’d given to J.B. Trust him. Like some demented, perverted matchmaker.

A small tear escaped and dropped from her chin to her chest. Reece brushed the trail from her cheek. “You're up against terrible odds, Maple. I won't lie to you about that, but I'm in your corner.”

She sniffed and nodded, stamping once and nestling his hand.

“You are quite the pony,” he added affectionately, before swatting her ass and seamlessly reverting back into smarmy, arrogant jerk she knew.

It took him a little over half an hour to pose her the way he wanted. Maple was enraptured by the process. When he adjusted her, it was like he disappeared into himself. His eyes pierced every inch of her, but she felt as if all he saw were lines and shadows instead of breasts and hips.

The end product was perfection. Even she felt it.

It was painfully simple. Free from all tack but a bit, he left her hair loose. Reese combed it through, and her tail, until they fell in shining waves. She was standing with her back to the viewer, foot raised in a lazy stamp. Maple was to look coyishly over her shoulder, her gaze meeting the viewer’s. No props. No gimmicks.

He shot a polaroid of it and showed it to her. It would allow them to re-create her pose with ease each day as he painted her. Maple loved it, not recognizing herself in the photograph.

While it looked relaxed, sexy and inviting, she found it was painful to try and maintain as a model. Her neck was cramped, her knees screamed at her, her thighs trembled, and there was a vicious ache blooming in her lower back and hips.

It was worth it. Reece talked to her as he painted. Despite not being able to talk back (though he tried often to get her to reply), having a conversation, one-sided as it was, was a joy. 

The day passed too quickly. Reece hadn’t even gotten out his paints-- he’d spent the entire time sketching her outline on the canvas. By the time J.B. walked in, Reece had covered the canvas and she’d dropped the pose. The concerned and curious look in J.B.’s eyes almost made her giggle.

Almost.

As they left to return to the stable, dread crept back in. J.B. was walking slower, too, which frustrated her. What was he thinking? Was he thinking about her? Or Brie? Did he worry about Maple’s feelings at all?

Was he truly going to sell her?

Chapter Eleven

They’d had such a difficult time communicating before. Now, where body language and looks were all they had, it felt impossible. Maple was becoming so weighed down by her worries that she barely noticed when he’d taken her to the grooming area.

She probably didn’t truly need to be groomed. He’d been rushing hers, too, lately. Rough lather, quick rinse off. The way he’d always groomed the other pony girls. The ones he didn’t intend to keep.

As the water warmed, he took off the bridle and removed her bit. She bit her lip as he eased her tail out. Despite everything, each hurt and weary trial, this still felt better than it should. The compounded relief of finally being emptied of the steel plug along with his gentle touch lit her body up. Maybe not on fire like it used to, but a low flame none the less.

He rinsed her more slowly and soaped her extra hard, using a washcloth. It scrubbed and grated her skin until it was smooth and pink in its wake. Maple began to wonder if he was trying to scrub Reece out. Did that mean he didn’t trust Reece? Did he think that Reece and Maple had done something? Were hiding something?

Did he not trust Maple either, then?

When he finished, he led her back to her stall. There was no lingering pat or touch as she entered.

Without fail, as soon as the door shut, Maple’s day grew drastically worse. Brie was accompanied this time by Lexy and Justine. All three charged into her stall. Before she could gather what was happening, Brie’s new cronies had grabbed her arms and held her, pinned.

Maple, so fucking tired of this game, didn’t fight back. If she took whatever they planned on dishing out, they’d leave her alone that much sooner.

“We’ve been talking, Maple. About your situation,” Brie mocked.

You shouldn’t be talking at all.

“We think it’s time for you to fall off of your high horse. Get it? High horse?”

You’re so clever.

“You’ve been leaving so much food, Maple. It’s wasteful. So we’re going to help you with that.”

Brie waltzed over to Maple’s trough and began to shovel the portion left for Maple into her mouth.

Maple hadn’t been eating much, but after posing with Reece all day, she was ravenous. Her stomach churned with acid as she was forced to watch Brie eat her food. They took turns holding her, the smell of Mariela’s cooking smeared on their hands and faces. Salt in the wound.

They didn’t finish all of it. Brie grabbed the last handful and threw it into Maple’s waste bucket.

Then they left. Brie was the last to go, turning to whisper with heat, “Time is closing in on you. I want J.B., and you aren’t going to stand in my way, little pony.”

They left her there, starving and shaken but unsurprised. Brie was going to escalate things now that the final weeks were on them. It wasn’t enough to keep Maple from J.B. anymore.

Maple rolled onto her back, letting the hay stick uncomfortably in her skin. The tiny, sharp pricks allowed her clarity. She needed to do something, but she wasn’t sure what. Fighting back was no longer a possibility-- now that the other girls were involved, She was outnumbered.

If J.B. hadn’t been acting so engaged with Brie, Maple would have considered talking to him at this point. She could barely push herself through the sleeplessness. If they started starving her, too? She was a goner. But he
had
been paying too close attention to the brunette. So much like his dead wife. Maple hated that now, if it was her word against Brie’s, she wasn’t sure whose side he’d be on.

That thought was one hell of a sucker punch.

Her best bet was Reece. Maple began to plan a way to let him know that she was in trouble without breaking the rules. He’d help her, she was sure of it. After all, hadn’t he said that he was in her corner?

“For the love of God, stop moving, Maple,” Reece chided.

Maple stamped in frustration. She’d been trying to get his attention for over an hour, but he’d been all business as soon as J.B. brought her to him. Apparently Reece, the artist, was single-minded.

“Your friend Brie was a much better subject.” He was teasing, but the comment rustled Maple, and she lost focus, her hands coming together to twist nervously in front of her.

His artist’s eyes missed nothing. “Have I touched on a sore spot, stable girl?”

She stamped once emphatically.

“Interesting,” he mumbled, then went back to his work. Maple felt a jolt of adrenaline. She couldn't let this opportunity pass. Making her eyes wide and pointed, she glared at him.

His brush didn’t stop moving, but his eyebrow raised.

“You've been looking haggard. Dark circles. And--” he pointed to her meaningfully with the wooden end of his paintbrush, “--too thin. I didn't want to say anything because I know you're an anxious little lady. Is Ms. Brie responsible for that?”

One stamp and a slight nod. Even though ponies don't cry, Maple allowed her tears to fall. What started as a small sniffle dissolved into a full blown sob.

“Are they hurting you?” There was a new tone to Reece’s voice. It was something akin to deadly.

One pitiful stamp.

He let her cry for another few minutes. Then, knowing that time was burning, Maple stood up and wiped the tears from her face.

You’ve told someone. Now compose yourself.

This was something new. It was from a deep reservoir she hadn’t even known she had. The ability to cry it out-- but then pick herself back up.

Maple nodded, putting her body back into position. She was ready.

His brush dipped into an inky oil. “Do you have a plan?”

Two stamps.

“Were you counting on me to say something?”

Maple hesitated. No. Part of no plan meant she hadn’t anticipated
how
Reece would help. She needed to change her situation, but just knowing someone else knew? Already her heart felt lighter. Two stamps.

“Good,” he said, sounding relieved. “It isn’t that I don’t want to. But J.B. is quite fickle about you. And unfortunately, this stunt of ours-- hiding your portrait from him-- hasn’t endeared me to him at all.”

He was silent, unusual for him. The smell of paint and piney turpentine was strong, making Maple feel dreamy. The soft sounds of his brush on the canvas were the only noises, aside from her labored breathing. She focused on not moving, the muscles of her legs and back threatening mutiny.

Those soft brush strokes came faster and harder, until Reece was practically jabbing at the canvas. Maple jumped when he threw the paintbrush across the room. It splintered against the wall, leaving a large, dark, and angry splotch.

He stood so quickly that his chair toppled backward, the second crash making her jump. It was rare to see him so unrestrained. The last time had been when he’d accosted in the stable. So Maple couldn’t help but to take a step back as he stormed toward her.

Hands gripped her shoulders, fingers digging in as painful pricks. Reece’s eyes and hair were wild. “Goddamn him,” he hissed. “Damn him for not seeing what this is doing to you. Or, if he is seeing it, not doing anything. It’s just that you hurt him, I think, when you joined the stable. That place dredges up memories for him.”

He’s got Brie-- and Rachel--on his mind
. She nodded. Reece was vocalizing her own feelings-- the hurt that stemmed from J.B.’s ambivalence.

The vice grip on her arms released slightly. He pulled her close, close enough her heart fluttered, and she found herself afraid, yet again, of fending Reece off. “I wish I knew what to tell you,” he rasped. “You continue to surprise me, and women
never
surprise me. If I didn’t respect J.B. so damned much, I’d fucking take you away this instant.”

He pressed a scalding kiss to her forehead. “But I do respect him. And while he’s being stupid and stubborn, I trust him. He’s wrong, but he’ll come around.”

Maple raised her eyebrows at ‘wrong,’ pleading for Reece to fill her in.

“You know Brie looks like Rachel, right?” Reece’s eyes darted toward the door as if afraid J.B. would burst in at any moment.

One hesitant stamp.

“It isn’t just her looks. Her bearing, the way she carries herself-- it is a painful reminder for him. Old wounds have been ripped open. He’s lost right now, and he thinks--” Reece shook his head. “Nevermind. No, no, don’t get so worked up. Not yet. Even with Rachel… I’ve never seen him care about anyone the way he cares about you. Do you get what I’m saying?”

No. She didn’t. She couldn’t. J.B. cared for her-- and Brie? Or was forgetting her in the presence of Brie? What was Reece getting at?

“This is a secret. The auction’s been moved. Do you remember the host? Peyton? His divorce was nasty, and he’s lost his home. Another patron is hosting, but can only do it a week and a half from today.”

Her heart froze, the blood sludging into ice in her veins. Her body went limp, her mind willing itself to lock up. She slid down the front of Reece’s body, his arms catching her before she could crash.

“Don’t do this!” He barked at her before rearing a hand back and smacking her across the face. Ears ringing and cheek burning, Maple forced herself to focus on him. For the first time, she could see a similarity between Reece and J.B. Underneath his ridiculous facade was a stoic, dangerous man.

“I’m telling you this so you won’t give up. You only have to fight through whatever shit is happening in the stable for another week and a half. That’s it? Do you get it?”

Maple nodded, but her heart wasn't in it. It was still paralyzed by terror. He gathered her up in his arms.

“I'm going to make you a deal, Maple. I know that I seem like an asshole. That's because I
am
an asshole. But if J.B. can’t get his head out of his own behind, I’ll buy you at the auction. Rather me then some stranger, right?”

He sounded soft and earnest, and she met his gaze. It was genuine, filled with pity and concern, and something else. Desire. It didn’t startle her, really, though its intensity was unexpected. Reece always seemed like he just enjoyed her because it pissed J.B. off. This, though?

It looked serious.

She considered him, truly. Today he was wearing a simple black t-shirt. Fitted. His body was more muscular than she would have guessed. The jersey clung to his chiseled chest in a way that stirred her. Low slung, designer jeans. His hair was dark like J.B.’s, but straighter, tumbling in his face like a model’s.

How had she not noticed him before? How had she not seen the lean, hard lines of his body and the sensual, masculine curves of his face?

It was obvious, of course. Because he was always with J.B. J.B. took her breath away. He demanded all of her focus, her energy, her thoughts. If she had met Reece first, who knew?