The Private Stable [Iron Spur Ranch 1] (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour) (3 page)

Rachel was thankful for the drive from the bus terminal. If she’d been forced to walk it would have taken her hours, the late afternoon sun baking her fair skin with every step.

The old man parked the truck. “Owner’s name is Damien Holt. Can’t even begin to tell you how many men he has working for him. You’d be wise to pay a visit to him first, since he’s likely doing the hiring.”

“Thank you so much. I–I don’t have anything to pay you.”

“It was my pleasure. Good luck with the new job, sugar.”

She smiled to herself as she hopped down from the truck. That had been the first kind word directed at her in years. It warmed her heart. He unloaded her bags and drove off the way he came. She watched him disappear with a sense of fondness, a billow of dust marking his retreat.

She glanced around at the many buildings. There was a breathtaking plantation-style house in the near distance with white pillars that seemed to go on forever. There were also several massive barns, outbuildings, and a slew of house trailers dotting the periphery. She didn’t know where to start.

There was so much ahead of her, and as much as she needed to be strong, it was tempting to give up. It would be so refreshing to have someone to lean on, to scare away those bumps in the night. But she’d only ever had herself to rely on, even now in this strange, new world.

As she explored the area, the earth rumbled, and she heard the distinct cry of cowboys. It was like being in the center of an old Western. She cupped a hand over her eyes to see the distant paddocks where a herd of horses was being corralled. The sun was high in the sky, signaling she had little time before nightfall. She may have come knowing there was a possibility of sleeping on the street, but now that she was here, the thought wasn’t as digestible. The country was so much more foreboding than the city. Once the sun set she imagined it would be pitch black, nothing but wildlife creeping about. At least in the city there were streetlights, all-night coffee shops, and hostels.

Rachel dragged her two suitcases to a trailer marked
Office
. So far she’d gone unnoticed, even though there were a lot of men on horseback within view.
Now for Damien.
She cautiously pushed open the door, unsure if she was supposed to knock first or just enter.

“We told Lawson he’d have them on the twentieth. Don’t give me that fucking bullshit.” The man had his back to her, his broad shoulders pulling his shirt taut. He spoke on the phone, pacing the area between two desks. “Good luck finding another breeder. You know damn well you won’t get Holt’s quality on such short notice.”

She felt like an eavesdropper, standing there without saying a word. The man was seriously pissed off and she didn’t want to be on the receiving end. Was this Damien? She hoped his mood improved before he had to decide her fate.

He exhaled after tossing the cordless onto one of the desks with disregard. It skidded before settling against a nest of paperwork. “Assholes.” She was tempted to reverse course and pretend to reenter the office again.

As he turned around, he finally noticed her standing by the doorway. He did a double-take, and then froze for a moment. The front of his checkered shirt was partially unbuttoned, exposing hard, toned pecs to match those strong shoulders. She couldn’t remember ever seeing a man so handsome outside of her fantasies. His eyes were greener than the fields outside, striking on his tanned face.

“Can I help you?” he asked with curiosity rather than irritation. His tone relaxed her somewhat. She’d expected him to vent his rage on her. It’s what she expected of a man.

“I’m sorry to bother you. I’m inquiring about the ad in the paper for live-in horse handlers.”

“Are they hiring again?”

“You’re not Damien?”

He smirked, and his previous hostility vanished. “No, ma’am. I’m one of the foremen on the ranch.”

“Do you know who I could talk to about the job?” She swallowed hard. What she wouldn’t give for a man like him. He was absolutely dreamy, making her think up all kinds of wicked scenarios. But he likely saw her for what she was—a gross, overweight nobody that wasn’t worth his time. Like Jason frequently reminded her, she’d never get better than him. It had taken her a long time to realize having nobody was preferable to a life with Jason.

He stepped forward, forcing her to hold her breath. Up close, he was even taller, towering over her five-foot-four frame. “You can talk with me, if you like.” He tilted his head and stared so deep into her eyes she began to feel wobbly on her feet. Men didn’t look at her like that. It was unnerving.

“Well, I’ve travelled all the way up from the city for this opportunity. I’d love to work for the Iron Spur Ranch. I’m a hard worker. I learn fast. I don’t cause any trouble. If you just give me a chance, I could prove myself an asset. I—”

“Whoa…Slow down there, little lady.”

“I’m sorry. I just really need this job.” She bit the inside of her cheek to keep from rambling. Rachel was so damn nervous and desperate to get the position.

“We’re in need of a few more handlers. I was expecting men to apply, but I won’t turn you away if you’re up for the work. You do know what we do around here, don’t you?”

Think, Rachel!
She must have stood there, slack-jawed and silent for a few moments too long.

He chuckled and tweaked her nose. “Just playin’. Of course you know what we do here. If you can hold tight, I’ll get one of the crew to show you the ropes.”

Did that mean she had the job? Did she have to prove her skills on the field? She’d never even met a horse up close and personal, but here she was, miles from home, impersonating a trained professional. The shit was getting deeper by the second.

* * * *

Wyatt’s day had been one headache after the other. Then the little brunette showed up on the property. She was a beauty, with enough curves to make him forget all coherent thought. They had a couple young women doing odd jobs around the ranch and one giving riding lessons, but they were all stick thin, leaving much to be desired. It didn’t help that he knew most of their fathers or brothers.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name…”

“Rachel. Rachel Price.”

“My name’s Wyatt. Come on, darlin’.” He waved for her to follow, pushing open the door of the trailer. The resulting relief was instantaneous. He hated being trapped behind a desk handling paperwork, but the owner’s sister was away on holidays, and she usually handled the business side of things. He much preferred to be in the saddle, the warm wind against his skin.

Colton, one of the other foremen, had mentioned an ad going into area papers. The owner, Damien, wanted to expand the tourism end of the business. Their breeding operation was already the largest in the country, producing some of the world’s top race and show horses. But they also took in rescues and sold pleasure and working horses as well.

It would be a distraction having Ms. Price underfoot. He tried to envision her in the company uniform of Wranglers and tight black T-shirt with the Iron Spur Ranch logo. Just the thought made his balls ache. With the busy season underway, he had little time for relationships or brief encounters. Ms. Price was a treat for his senses.

Wyatt was one of five foremen on the ranch, all answering to Damien directly. He had fourteen cowboys under his leadership. It was busy and crazy at times, but he wouldn’t change a thing.

“Where do the employees sleep?” she asked.

She was shy, hesitant, often looking to the ground when speaking. Rachel was nothing like the headstrong cowgirls he frequently dealt with. She piqued his curiosity and enticed his dominant side.

Wyatt pointed off to the area between two of the larger barns. “We have a few trailers set up around back. There’s everything you need—bed, shower, and meals are in the mess hall.” When he thought about it, there weren’t any women staying in those trailers. The few working the ranch went home every night since they were local girls. Maybe it wouldn’t work out for Ms. Price after all. He couldn’t very well stick her in with a bunch of his crew. They’d eat a lush thing like her alive. And he wasn’t so sure he could trust himself to behave, either.

“Do I need to meet the owner?”

“First I’ll have you spend some time with Ethan, one of my best men. He’ll teach you a few things and see if you have what it takes before we take the next step. Mr. Holt doesn’t like to play games.”

He noticed her face blanch slightly. She was more nervous than a startled doe.

They entered the main barn. Dust motes danced in the thin beams of light streaming in through the knots in the wood. The hay-littered concrete floor needed a good sweeping, another testament to their lack of staff.

He planned to set Rachel up with one of his best cowboys because he still needed to supervise the branding of the new Arabian stock in the far-east paddock. Wyatt also needed to ensure Mr. Lawson’s order would be ready for the promised date. His mind was a whirlwind of thought, and there weren’t enough hours in a day for him to get everything done. Isabella needed to get back to the office before all hell broke loose. He certainly didn’t need any more trouble on his watch.

“This is one of the main barns you’d work in. The horses are brought in here before they’re shown to prospective clients or shipped off to their new owners. You’d have to wash and groom them, of course. We have a thriving breeding program, so I hope you’re experienced in breaking colts and fillies. All our stock need to be green broke before we show them.”

“Right.”

Ethan and Colton were at the other end of the barn, their silhouettes highlighted by the late afternoon sun streaming in the open bay doors.

“Ethan, come here a minute, will you?”

Of all the men he was responsible for, Ethan was his closest friend. They worked together like a well-oiled machine, rarely needing to speak when communicating. He considered him the brother he never had. The only family.

As Ethan approached, he slowed his steps. It wasn’t often a new girl showed up on the ranch, so he was likely getting his fill of their guest. She was certainly something to look at with her hourglass figure and big green eyes.

“Afternoon, ma’am.” Ethan took off his Stetson like a regular gentleman. Wyatt knew his friend came from an old-fashioned family where respecting a woman was the highest order. It was the reason he had trouble mixing domination and pleasure, never partaking in the women who’d visit the ranch for an erotic escape.

“Thank you,” she said. The woman clutched her handbag like a lifeline. Were they that intimidating?

“Ethan, this is Ms. Rachel Price. She’s applying to be a handler, so give her a quick rundown of how things work around here and see what she’s made of. I need to head out to the east field before it gets too late.”

“I can do that,” he said.

Wyatt reached out and gave Rachel’s arm a slight squeeze. “You’re in good hands. I’ll meet up with you as soon as I’m back.”

Oh my God. What have I gotten myself into?
Rachel couldn’t think about what she’d done. The alternative was far worse. By now Jason would be getting home, wondering where his dinner was. He’d be absolutely furious that she wasn’t in the apartment like she was supposed to be. Just picturing his hard-set features and building rage made her blood run cold. But she was here. Safe.

Now Rachel needed to fake her way into a job she had no qualifications for. She never wanted to return to the city where there was a chance to run into Jason. It was amazing how one man could hold her life emotionally captive for so many years. She felt like a prisoner of war finally seeing the light…and she wasn’t quite sure what to do with so much freedom. The hardest part had been that initial leap, having faith in herself that she could survive on her own.

“So…have you worked at any area ranches?” asked Ethan. Unlike Wyatt’s tousled brown hair and green eyes, he had shorter, dirty-blond hair and eyes as dark as onyx. He had thick lips and raw sex appeal.

When he spoke, she barely peeked up at the cowboy, so accustomed to averting her eyes from good-looking men. Jason would always make her pay, even if she accidentally glanced at a stranger.

From what she saw, the man looked as if he were built out of steel, all hard muscle and strength. His jeans were worn through at the knees, his leather cowboy boots well used. She noted that he had big feet and couldn’t help but wonder if the old adage was true.

“No. I’m not from around here,” she answered honestly. How long would she be able to maintain a conversation without uttering lie after lie? She didn’t like the idea of deceiving other people, but she considered this a fight for survival. It was either tell a few white lies or sleep on the country dirt roads.

“Well, I suppose most ranches work in a similar fashion. How about you unsaddle the first three horses? They just got in from a roundup and I don’t want to put them away wet. When you’re done I’ll send them into the holding corral for a spell.”

Unsaddle? Corral? Rachel swallowed hard and slipped into the first stall as Ethan walked to the other end of the barn.
Don’t leave me alone.
The horse was huge and intimidating. She could envision it pinning her to the wooden slats, making a pancake of her. What if it stepped on her toes? It must weigh more than a ton. She kept as far back from it as possible, cooing to the beast to prove she was no threat. Its breathing was rhythmic, soothing. She dared to move closer to the horse’s head, running her hand over its mane to remove stray hairs from its eyes. It was an intelligent-looking animal, majestic and powerful.

Time seemed to stand still as she stood there alone in the stall, getting to know the horse with the thoughtful eyes. Its nose was like butter-soft leather. It didn’t flinch away from her touch but allowed her to explore at her leisure. Maybe the job wouldn’t be so bad after all.

Then she heard the chink of spurs, forcing her to crash back into reality. She began to fiddle with the leather straps coming off the saddle, her fingers moving so fast she wasn’t sure what was what. Her heart raced, just as it always did before Jason came home. The footsteps grew closer. She should have all three horses unsaddled by now. Her charade was up. It was a battle to keep her emotions in check when tears threatened to escape at any moment. How much stress could one woman take? How much fear?