Wild About the Wrangler (4 page)

“Promise he won't bite me.”

“He won't bite you. But if you're worried about it, keep your fingers together so they don't look like carrots.”

“Carrots?” She pulled her hand away. “He could mistake my fingers for carrots? I'm not doing this. I need my fingers. My fingers are my life.”

“Here.” He stepped forward and took her hand. “We'll do it together.”

“We could put this off, you know.” But she allowed him to guide her to Jasper's forehead while his hand protectively covered her precious fingers.

Good old Jasper stood quietly as Mac moved her hand slowly down his nose. Then he repeated the motion.

“He's very soft,” she murmured.

“Yeah.” But she was even softer and she smelled great, like . . . cookies baking. “Now we'll scratch his neck.” He moved her hand under Jasper's mane.

“Okay, I think I have this.” Her voice quavered a little.

“You sure?”

“Yep. He'd have to be some kind of contortionist to bite my fingers while they're up under his mane. Thanks for getting me over the hump.”

“No problem.” He stepped away with regret, another warning sign. He was enjoying this teaching business way too much. On top of that, watching her scratch Jasper's neck made him want things he shouldn't, like her delicate fingers lightly scratching his chest, or his back, or his thighs, or . . . .

He stared up into the rafters of the barn while he disengaged from that line of thought. What had he decided only moments ago? That he was capable of giving her riding lessons without letting the experience become sexual?

Well, he was capable of that, damn it. Now this project had become a matter of pride, a test to see whether he'd evolved. She'd trusted him with a secret that only her beloved stepsister, Georgie, knew. She needed his help to take her Ghost-inspired art to the next level.

Using that situation to introduce sex into their relationship wasn't playing fair. He was better than that. He'd prove that to himself if nothing else.

“You were right,” she said. “He really likes this.”

Taking a deep breath, Mac brought his attention back to Anastasia and the horse she was caressing. Jasper, the lucky nag, was blissed out. His head hung low and his eyes had drifted half-closed as Anastasia ran her fingernails over his silky neck in a rhythmic pattern.

Mac couldn't keep watching that. Certain things were likely to happen if he did. If she thought his crotch had been interesting while they'd stood outside her gate, she'd find a whole other artistic challenge there if he didn't get out of this barn ASAP.

He grabbed the first excuse that came to mind, the one she'd given him earlier. “I've been thinking about that carpet.” His nose would grow for sure with that whopper. “I would feel better if I get some of it pulled up tonight.” And the physical labor would help him deal with some very inappropriate thoughts about her.

“Told you so.” She gave Jasper one final scratch. “See you later, handsome.” Then she turned toward Mac. “Thank you. Petting him was exactly what I needed to do. The idea of riding him or any horse still scares the snot out of me, but I've made progress.”

“Yes, you have.” Her open expression filled him with joy and another less noble emotion. But he'd conquer this attack of lust or know the reason why. He handed back her messenger bag. “Then I'll see you here at six in the morning?”

She groaned. “I
knew
you were going to say that. All right, but I'm warning you that I'll be a zombie.”

“That'll actually be better than if you're totally awake.”

“I don't see how. My coordination isn't great under the best of circumstances. If I'm half-asleep, I could slip right out of the saddle.”

“In the first place, I wasn't planning to have you get up on Jasper tomorrow.”

“Jasper? Isn't that your horse?”

“Not exactly, and for the next two weeks, he'll be your horse. I trust him to take good care of you.”

She smiled. “That's incredibly sweet.”

He fought off the wave of tenderness that made him want to pull her close and kiss those smiling lips. “It's incredibly practical. We can't risk another bad experience, considering what's at stake.”

“Yeah, I guess not.”

“So tomorrow you'll brush Jasper before putting on his bridle and saddling him up. Then you'll take it all off again and brush him some more. That's plenty for the first day.”

She gazed at him as she hoisted the messenger bag more securely onto her shoulder. “I knew I'd made the right choice.”

“We'll see. No promises.”

“I don't need promises. Just knowing you're on the job is enough for me. See you at six.” She rolled her eyes. “I can't believe I just said that. See ya. I have to go home, drink warm milk, and read a boring book.”

“Good luck with that.” She made him laugh, which might be more arousing than anything else about her.

“It'll never happen. I'll be up until two like always and shuffle in here like the living dead.”

“I look forward to it.” She had no idea how much.

W
hew. That had been exciting in more ways than one. Anastasia left the stables on an adrenaline high that was partly due to the interaction with the horse and mostly due to the interaction with the man. She wanted to sketch the picture of Mac she still carried in her head, but she didn't feel like going home.

Instead she walked along a back road that meandered through the sparsely populated area west of Main Street. Her mother wouldn't be expecting her for dinner. After her mom's nightly happy hour, she usually nuked a single serving of something prepackaged and let Anastasia fend for herself.

That was perfectly fine. Evelyn's life seemed to revolve around reality TV and e-mailing with friends from Abilene, where she used to live before marrying Georgie's dad. That left Anastasia free to make her own plans.

Mac had asked her what she'd do if her mother sold the house. Of course she'd miss it. The Victorian had been home for more than twenty years. But she'd never felt she quite belonged there. Georgie did, though. The Bickfords had settled the town and built that house.

Thinking of that, she realized why she'd unconsciously walked in this direction. She wanted a sisterly chat. Vince was in Houston, so this could be the perfect time. She pulled out her phone and dialed Georgie's number. “Hey, can I invite myself over for dinner?”

“Sure, if you're okay with pasta and a salad. When Vince isn't here I eat light.”

“Do you have enough for both of us?”

“I do.”

“I'm on my way.” She needed to tell Georgie about the riding lessons, but that wasn't the only item on her agenda. Her reaction to Mac was more potent than she'd counted on. When he'd stepped in to show her how to touch Jasper, she'd desperately wanted to touch him instead. She could use some advice from her big sister.

As she cut across a field to get there, she almost stopped to quickly sketch a gnarled mesquite. Nope, the twenty minutes it would take her would be twenty minutes Georgie would have to wait and worry. Not a nice payback after getting herself invited to dinner.

But she made a mental note of the mesquite's location so she could come back another time. The rebirth of her creative drive had been life-changing. She'd come home from art school burned out from too much structure and disappointed in love.

Not only that—the sheer number of aspiring artists had intimidated her into thinking she'd never make it. They all seemed so much better and more confident than she was. But in the past six months that depressing attitude had been banished to the far corners of her psyche.

Mac, and to a lesser extent Travis and Vince, was the reason. She'd always be grateful for that. When she'd first seen Mac, she'd had an uncontrollable urge to get that handsome face down on paper.

At the time she hadn't come in contact with a guy that gorgeous in a while, so her response had been understandable. She and Georgie lived in a town essentially without single men, let alone good-looking ones. Once the town had started going downhill, the unattached men in their twenties had all moved elsewhere to find work.

The arrival of Mac, Travis, and Vince had been the catalyst for change, both in the town and in her. She'd ended up sketching all three of them, and their awed response had poured water on the parched earth of her creativity. Now she couldn't seem to stop drawing things.

Even better, she had buyers for her art. Knowing someone would pay for one of her pictures had rebuilt her confidence and her savings account. If she decided to move or was forced to, she could handle that.

She came in sight of Georgie and Vince's rental, a cute one-bedroom bungalow on three acres. It belonged to a couple who'd also moved to find jobs when the town could no longer provide any. Like many people in that situation, they hadn't found a buyer so they'd been thrilled at the idea of renting the house.

Georgie seemed to like the place okay, but obviously the barn was the most important feature. She'd wanted Prince nearby, and Vince had recently bought a gorgeous black horse named Storm Cloud. They rode together every chance they got, and Anastasia envied them that. Even though she was afraid, the little girl she used to be still dreamed of riding bareback across a meadow.

She wasn't as keen on the moonlit part of the fantasy, though. After listening to Georgie, she understood that racing across a field at night could end up crippling the horse and maiming the rider if a gopher hole happened to be in the wrong place. But riding along a trail in the moonlight with a handsome cowboy who looked a lot like Mac Foster . . . Oh, yeah, she could picture that.

The rental house had a patio wall in back and a low decorative wall in front with a wrought-iron gate. The barn to the right of the house sat back about twenty yards. Anastasia had ignored the barn in the past, just as she'd learned to ignore the one out behind the Victorian after that fateful night.

Today, though, she looked at the barn with interest. She could draw Prince and Storm Cloud and give the sketches to Georgie and Vince. They'd probably like that.

They already had a lot of her work on their walls, including an early sketch of the Ghost and the one she'd done of Vince soon after the guys had arrived in town. But a sketch of the two of them on their beloved horses would make an awesome wedding present.

As she approached the bungalow, Georgie must have been watching for her because she came out the front door and down the flagstone walk. The flagstone was a nice touch, and the house had some charm. The owners had offered a rent-to-own deal, but Georgie and Vince weren't doing that. Anastasia knew her sister was biding her time, waiting to reclaim her ancestral home.

“Hey.” Georgie's welcome was reflected in her brown eyes as she came toward the gate. She'd piled her honey blond hair on top of her head and she wore her favorite at-home outfit—an old shirt and faded jeans. Her relaxed expression had become the norm ever since she and Vince had figured out they were madly in love. “I'm so glad you called. But you'll need a jacket for the walk home unless I drive you.”

She laughed. That was so Georgie. “You can loan me a hoodie if it would make you feel better. But I'm not letting you use your gas to take me that short distance. Have you started cooking yet?”

“Not yet. Why?”

“Let's take a walk down to the barn, first.”

Georgie came to an abrupt halt and stared at her. “The barn? Who are you and what have you done with my sister?”

“I've taken a major step toward overcoming my fear of horses. Now I want to go pet yours.”

“This I gotta see.” She came through the gate and gave Anastasia a hug. “What major step?”

“I asked Mac to give me riding lessons.”

Her mouth dropped open. “You did not.”

“I did.” Laughing, she crossed her heart. “I promise I'm not making this up.”

“You're taking riding lessons? That's fabulous!” Georgie hugged her again, tighter this time. “Congratulations, sis.”

Anastasia got a little choked up at that. “Thanks. You're the only person who understands what . . . what a challenge this will be.”

“I know.” Georgie's eyes were moist, too. “But why ask Mac? I would teach you. Gladly.”

“I know you would, and I considered asking you.” Anastasia met her gaze. “But face it, Georgie. You wouldn't be tough enough on me.”

“I would so!”

“You would not. You won't even let me walk home without loaning me a jacket. You're incredibly protective, and I love that you're such a softie where I'm concerned, but I need someone who'll push me to do things even when I don't want to. He's expecting me at Ed's by six.”

“In the
morning
?”

“Yep, and I'll be there. I tried to weasel out of going so early, but it's the best time for him and for the horses. He stuck to his guns and I gave in.”

Georgie laughed. “Well, I see your point. I would have worked around your normal sleep schedule. I've been doing that for years. Who knew you'd get up for a six a.m. riding lesson?”

Anastasia grinned. “I didn't—that's for sure. But I really want to conquer my fear so I can eventually ride out and see the Ghost with my own two eyes.”

“So that's what this is all about.”

“I've felt like a fraud for months, knowing that I've never seen him in person, and now with the film crew arriving in three weeks . . . that fact will come out, I'll bet. Even if I was lucky and it didn't become an issue, I still want to fix this. So will you take me out to the barn?”

“Absolutely, if you're sure you can handle it.”

“I'm sure.”

Georgie started across the yard. “Is this like a desensitizing exercise before the big day tomorrow?”

“More like a continuation of what I just did with Mac over at the stable.” She walked beside Georgie. “He suggested I go into the barn and sketch one of the horses.”

“Now
that
is a great idea. Good for Mac. So how did it go?”

“That's the other thing I need to talk to you about.”

Georgie glanced at her. “If you're going to tell me you have a crush on Mac, I already know that. You've had a crush from the first day you met him.”

“It's not a crush, damn it. Well, maybe it was at first, but now he's just a friend. A friend with a really nice body and a face I enjoy drawing. And good hair. I like his hair. But that doesn't mean I have to go to bed with him.”

“Of course you don't
have
to.” Laughter simmered in Georgie's voice. “But I have a feeling you want to.”

“No, I don't, and I can't allow myself to, either. That would interfere with everything—my concentration on my work, the easy friendship we have, and the riding lessons. He point-blank asked me about the crush because Ida—bless her heart—told him I was crushing on him. I told him I was interested in him for artistic reasons. He's fun to draw.”

Georgie's laughter spilled out. “And what did he say to that?”

“I think he bought it.”

“If he did, I have a bridge I want to sell him.”

Anastasia groaned. “You think he was humoring me?”

“No, I didn't mean it like that. He probably believes your explanation, but it's only part of the story. You're an artist, after all, and I'm sure he is fun to do—I mean,
draw.
” She started laughing again.

“Oh, for God's sake. You and Ida make a good pair.”

Georgie wrapped an arm around her and gave her a quick squeeze. “Okay, I'll stop teasing you.”

“That's good, because I seriously do need some advice on how to handle the situation. I don't want it to get out of hand. But let's table it until after I say hello to your horses, especially Prince. I have a long overdue apology to deliver.”

“He doesn't hold grudges.” Georgie slid the bar aside that held the barn doors closed.

Easy for an adult, Anastasia thought. Not for a six-year-old. “I wasn't very nice to him.” She expected to feel at least some anxiety as she walked into the small barn with her sister, but instead the scent of hay and horses made her think of Mac. He'd been so patient with her. And so damn sexy. That was the thought that made her shiver.

Georgie noticed. “You okay?”

“Yes.” She took a deep breath and looked around. The barn was much narrower than Ed's. His had stalls on both sides of a wooden aisle, but in this setup all four stalls were in a row down the right side.

Both horses stuck their heads out to see who'd come in for a visit. Prince was in the first stall and Storm Cloud was in the last one. Georgie went over to Prince and stroked his nose the way Mac had stroked Jasper's. “No treats, but I brought you a friend,” she murmured.

Anastasia studied the horse that had carried her into the night in a terrifying race across the field. In her imagination he'd been gigantic and he'd breathed fire. She'd seen him since then, of course, but only from a distance.

Slowly she walked toward him. “I remember him as being bigger.”

“Probably because you were smaller.” Georgie turned to her. “Do you want me to bring him out?”

“No, no, that's okay. Maybe the next time I come over.” Once she was close enough, she reached out the way Mac had taught her and scratched Prince's neck.

“You're not hyperventilating. That's good.” Georgie moved away to give her plenty of room to maneuver.

“I did at first with Jasper, but then I got over it.” Mac's soft breathing and his masculine scent had made her forget to be afraid. But she'd been so distracted that she hadn't spent much time observing the horse she'd been touching.

This time she could. She'd heard Georgie describe Prince as a bay, which meant he was brown with a black mane and tail. But Prince wasn't just brown. If she decided to paint him someday, she'd have to mix in red to enrich the color, and maybe a smidgen of yellow. His coat reminded her of polished cherrywood, except wood was static and his coat was not.

As he shifted his weight, the ripple of muscles underneath his coat gave it subtle shading. Getting that down, either using watercolors or acrylics, would be tricky, but she could do it. She'd studied the skeletal and muscular structure of several animals, including horses, in one of her classes.

When drawing the horses in class she'd made it a purely intellectual exercise to keep her emotions in check. She'd done the same thing when drawing the Ghost. But sketching Jasper today, she'd let herself engage. She did that now with Prince even though she wasn't drawing him.

Her face, reflected in his large brown eyes, was distorted as though seen through a peephole in a door. She edged to the left so she could really look into Prince's warm gaze. And it was friendly, too. She saw nothing but goodwill there.

Getting braver, she stroked his nose the way Georgie had. “Do you think he remembers me?”