Wild About the Wrangler (7 page)

“I'm glad you did.”

“Me, too.” It was another of those moments when his gaze locked with hers, a moment that could turn into something if either of them made a move.

Instead they broke eye contact at about the same time and he began demonstrating how to use long, sweeping strokes of the brush to flick away the dirt she'd stirred up with the mitt. That left her free to watch him and she took that artistic opportunity. She'd never sketched him from the back, now that she thought about it.

The view was excellent from this angle, too. She couldn't pull out her sketch pad but she could take out her phone.

At the click of the phone's camera, he turned. “Did you just take a picture?”

“For reference.”

“What kind of reference?”

“In case I ever want to do a sketch of you brushing Jasper.”

“But my back's turned.” He seemed sincerely confused by the concept.

Bless his heart, maybe he didn't realize he had great-looking buns. “I know. That's what makes it . . . different.” And sexy as hell. She tucked her phone away, glad she had the shot for later.

He shrugged. “If you say so. I'll take your word for it. I'm no artist—that's for sure.” He walked over and handed her the brush. “Same as before. Start with his left shoulder, work toward the back, then walk around to his right and start at the other shoulder.”

“Got it.” She began brushing and sure enough, dirt flew. His coat had looked glossy before they'd started this, but it would probably shine like wet paint when they finished.

“What were you going to ask last time, when you interrupted yourself?”

Aw, he wanted to put her at ease. How sweet. She thought back. “Whether you had any brothers or sisters.”

“Just me. Mom said they were lucky to have even one. Some medical issue, I guess.”

“Isn't Vince an only child, too?”

“He is. I think that's one reason we bonded like we did when we met at the guest ranch. He really is like the brother I never had.”

“Travis, too?”

He laughed. “Yeah, like the pain-in-the-ass little brother I never had. He has a couple of sisters. I've seen pictures but I've never met them, and I think that's on purpose.”

“I see.”

“He has no reason to be so protective. I've told him a dozen times that I wouldn't date either of his sisters.”

“Why not?”

“Because if things didn't go well, and with my record that's entirely possible, it could ruin the friendship. I wouldn't take that risk.”

“You have a bad record with women?” In all their discussions, this subject had never come up.

“You could say that.”

“In what way?”

He sighed. “In every way. And I deeply regret I mentioned it. How about if we talk about something else?”

“We can do that.” But she was intrigued. How could a gorgeous, caring man like Mac have a bad record with women? Maybe over the next couple of weeks he'd let down his guard enough to tell her.

M
ac could have kicked himself. In his eagerness to provide conversation so Anastasia would relax, he'd accidentally broached his least favorite topic in the world. Or rather, he'd tossed off a remark that would lead to it if he answered her question.

Marrying Sophie had been the biggest mistake of his life, and he wished to hell he could erase that part of his memory so he'd never have to think about it again. As it was, he thought about it way more than he wanted to. Every damn time he did, guilt turned his stomach into a cement mixer.

Anastasia had graciously come up with a new topic. She'd asked him how he planned to finish the floors in his house once he'd pulled up all the old carpet. Flooring was the kind of neutral subject that wouldn't get him into trouble and he was grateful.

But he'd been around her enough to know that she wouldn't forget the issue he'd refused to talk about. She still wanted to know the answer to her question. He'd take bets on it.

He should probably tell her all about Sophie. If she had a crush, and he was beginning to think she might, that would take care of it. But he didn't want to tell her. First of all, he didn't enjoy talking about that chapter in his life, but that was secondary.

Mostly, he didn't want to say anything because he'd get knocked off his pedestal. Her attention, whether for artistic reasons or something more personal, stroked his ego. He hated to admit that, but it was true. Even though he'd promised himself nothing would ever happen between them, he basked in the glow of her not-so-subtle interest.

Not every guy had a woman drawing sketches of him all the time or taking pictures of him on her phone for reference, whatever that meant. It was going to his head and he shouldn't let that happen. But it felt so good. Once he told her about Sophie, she wouldn't view him in the same way. He wanted to postpone that moment indefinitely.

“I think that's it for the brushing.” She peered at him over Jasper's broad back. “What's next?”

“We saddle him. You can hang out with him while I fetch the saddle and blanket.” So far, so good, he thought as he hauled both items out of the tack room and propped them on the hitching post. Picking up the brush, he flicked it over Jasper's back a few more times. “You want to get all the dirt off. If you put a saddle on a horse with grit on his back, it'll irritate him and give him saddle sores.”

Her eyes widened. “Are they that delicate?”

“You'd be amazed how delicate they are. Anyway, here's how we'll do this. I'll lift the saddle so you can pull out the blanket and put it on him.”

“Sounds like a plan.” She seemed almost nonchalant.

He coached her on the positioning of the blanket. Then he showed her how to pile the stirrups and cinch on top of the saddle before she carried it over to Jasper.

She picked it up. “Kind of heavy.”

“You can do it.” He had to suppress his natural urge to help her with that burden. She was strong enough to carry the saddle and lift it onto Jasper's back.

And when she'd done that, she turned to him with a smile of triumph that made everything worth it. “That wasn't so bad.”

“I never doubted you'd get it up there. Now you need to fasten the cinch.”

She was a little more hesitant about that because it involved ducking under Jasper's belly. But she soldiered on and eventually the cinch was tight and the stirrups were down. She dusted off her hands. “What next?”

“The bridle, which is slightly more complicated. The first time I'll do it, and then we'll switch sides and you can try.”

“Sounds good.”

As he carried the tote into the barn and took the bridle out of the tack room, he thought of how far she'd come since yesterday, when she'd been afraid to walk into the barn. He couldn't take all the credit, either. She was a brave woman.

Jasper had done his part, too. The horse belonged to Frank Bryson, a retired lawyer in his eighties who didn't ride anymore but seemed to enjoy the idea of owning a horse. Mac would love to buy him, but Frank might not sell. Even if he did, Mac doubted he could afford Jasper after sinking so much money into his house. Knowing Frank, he'd paid top dollar for the big roan.

Anastasia was stroking his nose and talking to him when Mac came out of the barn. He wondered if she'd ever get to the point where she'd want a horse of her own. That would be a real triumph.

She might set her sights on Jasper because he was the first horse she'd worked with. He wouldn't mind losing out to her if it meant she had come far enough to think of buying a horse. Frank might be more likely to sell to her, too, because he'd watched her grow up here.

Sometimes Mac envied the people who'd lived in Bickford for years. They shared a special connection with one another that he couldn't expect yet. Vince had more of an inside track, even though he hadn't bought property and Mac had, because Vince was engaged to Georgie. That had given him an instant seal of approval.

Jasper turned to look at him as he walked up with the bridle. Fortunately Jasper was pretty good about taking the bit, although Mac anticipated Anastasia wouldn't be crazy about that part.

“First thing,” he said, “is to make sure the horse can't walk away from you while you're putting on the bridle.”

“They'll do that?”

“Sometimes, so I'll start by slipping off his halter and fastening it around his neck. That way he's still attached to the hitching post. Then I'll put the bit in position and ease it into his mouth. Can you see what I'm doing?”

She crouched down and gazed up. “Now I can. He has gigantic teeth.”

“Which he uses on hay and grass. He's a little resistant this morning, so I'll stick my thumb in his mouth so he'll accept the bit.”

“Yikes. Good-bye, thumb.”

“Not if I do it right. There's a gap between his front teeth and his back ones. That's right where my thumb goes.”

“And if you do it wrong?”

“I won't do it wrong and neither will you when it's your turn.”

“I definitely won't do it wrong because I'm not doing it at all, Charlie.”

“The name's Mac.”

“I don't care if your name is God. My thumb is not going in that horse's mouth.”

He held back a smile. He also chose not to argue the point. Technically he could skip all of this and teach her to ride well enough to go out to the canyon with him. On the surface he would have satisfied her request. He or someone else could groom, bridle, and saddle her horse for her.

But he didn't go along with that for anyone who wanted to learn to ride, and especially for someone who was afraid. Having someone else do those things would distance her from the animal. She might be able to minimize her fear that way, but she'd never completely erase it.

He wanted her to stop thinking of a horse as somehow
other.
The more intimate her interaction, the less she'd believe that, or at least that was his theory. He was operating largely on instinct, though. He'd never met someone as terrified of horses as she'd appeared to be.

“Now that he's taken the bit, this part goes over his ears. Ease them forward because they're cartilage and sensitive.”

“I love Jasper's ears. The sun's shining through the little hairs right now. So sweet.”

“All of him is sweet, even his mouth.” But he took the time to glance at Jasper's ears and see what she meant about the sun shining through the tiny hairs lining the edges. It was kind of cool.

“His teeth aren't sweet. They're enormous and could end my career in seconds.”

“That won't happen. Are you watching how I'm finishing this up? This is important.” Maybe it was time to be more assertive. She was right that she could get a little spacey. He could see the danger if she allowed herself to be distracted by something visually interesting and forgot what she was doing.

“I'm watching.”

“All right. Now I'll reverse the process so you can do it. You'll need to come around to this side. He's used to being bridled from the left. Most horses are.”

“Okay, but I'm only doing it if he takes that bit.” She rounded the horse's hindquarters and came up beside him. “I'm not sticking my—”

He glanced over at her. “I never realized how stubborn you are.”

“Only about certain things, my thumbs being two of them.”

“Then let's hope Jasper cooperates. Hold the bridle like this.”

She was awkward at it and he had to move in and help her. Damn, she smelled good. He forced himself to ignore that. Jasper took the bit easily this time. Mac had been prepared to coax her to use her thumb if necessary, but it wasn't. Crisis averted. Maybe by the time she needed to do that, she'd be so mellow about Jasper's teeth she wouldn't think anything about it.

“That's it. He's bridled.” The lesson was taking longer than he'd figured on, but it didn't matter. It wasn't like she was paying him by the hour.

“I need a picture of this!” She pulled out her phone and took several shots of Jasper all tacked up.

“Ready to climb aboard?”

She whipped around so fast she almost dropped her phone. “C-climb aboard? I thought you said—”

“I know, but you've been making such great progress. You don't have to go anywhere, just sit there for a little while and get used to the view.” He paused. “I'll take your picture so you can show Georgie.”

She studied Jasper for quite a while. Finally she took a deep breath and let it out before handing him her phone. “Okay.”

It wasn't an enthusiastic statement, but he'd take it. Shoving her phone in his pocket, he walked over to Jasper. “Let me adjust the stirrups for you.” He'd been the last person to use the saddle and the stirrups were way too long for her.

“Shouldn't I do that?”

“Next time.” He didn't want a delay to make her nervous and potentially cause her to change her mind. After years of adjusting stirrups for greenhorns, he had a pretty good idea where they should be for someone of Anastasia's height and build. They'd be good enough for now.

She came closer. “Now they're so high I don't know if I can get my foot up there.”

“I could go search out a mounting block, but we can do it the old-fashioned way.” He linked his hands together and held them below the stirrup. “Grab the saddle horn and put your left foot here. I'll boost you up.”

“Mac, I'm scared.”

He looked into her eyes and her pupils were dilated. She was also breathing faster than normal. “You'll be fine. I'll be right here.”

She glanced up at the saddle. “I'll be clumsy. What if he doesn't like that and starts moving around and stuff?”

“This is your friend Jasper. You've spent time grooming him and petting him. He's not going to be annoyed because you're new at this.”

“How do you know?”

“I've spent six months getting acquainted with him. It's not his personality to be nervous and jumpy with greenhorns. He's patient.”

She gazed at the horse. “Is that right, Jasper? Are you going to stand there like a good boy when I climb on you?”

He bobbed his head like a trick pony.

“Mac, did you make him do that? Have you trained him to respond to some subtle hand signal?”

“No, I have not. Somebody might have taught him to bob his head when he hears a rising note in a person's voice. I haven't paid attention to whether he does it on cue or not.”

“Maybe later on we can test it. For now I'm going to take it as a sign that I should get on this horse.” She took hold of the saddle horn and placed her booted foot in his supporting hands. “Here goes nothing.”

“Correction. Here goes everything.”

“Right.” She put her weight on his linked fingers and, despite her concern about being clumsy, she swung up into the saddle as if she'd been doing it forever.

The sound of her cute little tush dropping into the saddle was music to his ears. He glanced up and she was looking down at him from her new perch. Her color was high and her eyes were bright. She was so beautiful he forgot to breathe.

“I'm on,” she murmured, as if talking too loud would disturb the perfection of the moment.

He kept his voice down, too. Hushed tones seemed to fit the mood. “How's it feel?”

“Scary. But exhilarating, too.” She adjusted her feet in the stirrups. “I'm not as far away from the ground as I remembered.”

“You were very small.” Anxiety curled in his gut whenever he thought of her riding out into the night all by herself.

“The saddle and the stirrups help. Sliding around on Prince's back was terrifying. I only had his mane to hold on to and I . . . I probably jerked some of the hair out.” She winced. “I know I did. I had a handful of horse hair when I landed. I remember that now.”

“I could lead you around if you want to—”

“Not today. Today I'll just sit here and get used to it.”

“And have your picture taken.”

“Oh, yeah. I forgot.”

“Still want me to do that?”

“Yes. I have to show Georgie.”

He moved back a few feet and pulled out her phone. Usually when he worked with first-time riders he had to remind them to sit up straight. Apparently he wouldn't have to remind Anastasia. Pride, and maybe a lingering touch of fear, kept her back straight as a lodge pole pine.

Her wide smile of accomplishment tinged with panic tugged at his heart. He'd never helped someone overcome a handicap, and that's what her fear had become. Being a part of her struggle was an honor.

He snapped several pictures from different angles. You could never have enough of a good thing.

“Done?”

“Let me check them out.” He scrolled through the pictures, knowing they were fine but also wanting a chance to send one to his cell. He didn't ask her if he could have one. He just did it without worrying about why.