Maybe Baby (2 page)

"I mean, if you're worried I'm going to let him loose around the pigs or your smokehouse, you don't have to worry about that; I keep his reins firmly in my grasp. I don't allow him to wander without me."

"That's good to know," he replied tersely, his eyes flickering over the horse as if I'd allow some harm to come to him.

What's his deal?

"So, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to take him over to the horse barns so he can visit with some of his buds," I said, clicking my tongue to get him moving. Derringer didn't budge.

"Come on, boy," I urged, tugging a bit harder on his lead rein, clicking my tongue again.

Nothing.

I saw a smile flicker over the guy's face, a cheek dimple now appearing.

"Yes, I see the control you have over the beast," he said. "I can't imagine that spirited animal would give you any problems at all."

Okay. Now he's making fun of me which is so not cool.

This was no time for Derringer to morph into a stubborn mule, and yet he had. From the porch, I heard Jenna's delighted cackle as she observed the horse's refusal to comply with my commands.

I was clearly irritated that I was providing comic relief to her and this guy who seemed a bit arrogant for just another co-worker here.

"Don't you have a pig or…
something
to roast, Rhett?" I lashed out at him, tugging harder on Derringer's lead, forcing the horse to take a step.

"Derringer halt," his smooth and silky voice called, as he took the reins from my hands, and dropped them to the ground.

What the??

Derringer didn't budge; dropping his head to graze on the grassy patch beside the drive. My eyes immediately flew back to look at the townie who was now smiling at me wickedly.

"The name's Trey," he said. "And yours?"

"Tylar Preston," I replied. "I take it you don't work over at the smokehouse…"

"No, I don't. At the moment, I'm overseeing the entire operation here while my parents are in Europe."

"Ah, so then your last name must be…
Sinclair
." I mumbled.

"We can't keep a thing from you, can we?" he teased.

"And that means Derringer is uh…
your
horse?"

“He is. How is it that you were able to get him out like this?” he asked.

"Frankly, no one else wants to mess with him. I guess I liked the challenge of getting him to trust me. We’re friends now. I bribe him with carrots, groom him, and talk to him. I was hoping to start exercising him over in the arena at the Belle. He's had some dressage training, right?"

Trey's face darkened in anger. "You misunderstood the question, Ms. Preston. I'm asking why you would disregard the orders I've given with respect to this horse by bringing him out of the pasture?"

"I'm not sure that I've disregarded any orders, Mr. Sinclair. I'm being paid to take care of the horses and that's what I'm doing. I'm simply working to gain his trust so that I can mount him."

He took a step closer to me, to the point where I was pretty sure it would have thrilled Jenna if she were in my place. I had to force myself from taking a nervous step backwards.

“No one mounts Derringer, the only exception being me. He’s an expensive piece of horseflesh, and I won’t have some novice equestrian-wannabe taking risks with him, is that understood?”

I could feel my eyes widening to the point where my eyelashes were probably spreading out. His eyes were cool as a cucumber, ablaze with a splash of ice as he continued to look down at me.

“Is that understood?” he repeated, his voice now carrying a steely edge to it.

I nodded and took a step back from him. "Yes," I squeaked. "Perfectly."

"Good," he said, bending down to grab Derringer's reins from the ground. He looped them around his hand, and with one swift and lithe movement, Trey swung himself up and onto the horse's bare back, turning to peer down at me, as Derringer did a side-step. "Because, Ms. Preston, if this happens again, your ass
will
be fired."

He pressed his calves into the horse's sides, taking off, presumably for the stables leaving me standing there feeling humiliated, chastised and idiotic in front of Jenna.

I
seethed in anger the whole way back through the woods to the stables. I hoped like hell he was gone by the time I got there. I had no desire to be at the receiving end of his wrath again.

Jenna would probably broadcast to everyone that I'd had my butt ripped by Trey Sinclair. She had done her share of gossiping about him in the few weeks I'd been here. Something about him being a high-powered attorney somewhere else, owning shares of the family business, a scandalous broken engagement in his past, and oh yeah, Jenna dreamed of 'doing him' one day soon.

I tried to put it all out of my mind as I crossed the pasture heading toward the bank of cottages and the cold shower that awaited me. Suddenly, the loud roar of an engine caught my attention as I spotted a black Lamborghini Gallardo convertible speeding down the Sinclair estate driveway. The driver wore sunglasses. There was no mistaking the burnished brown hair flying back from that sinfully handsome face. As the car passed the pasture to my right, the driver glanced over. For a split second, I thought I could actually make out his smile. Despite his assholiness with me, there was no denying Trey Sinclair was smokin' hot.

Ah yes, that shower's going to cool me off nicely.

Chapter 2

The bank of eight identical cottages was spread across two acres of land on the estate. Two of the eight housed full-time year-round hands who’ve been employed by the Sinclair family for years.

The first cottage was Ray Gillespie's. Ray was awesome. He was gray-haired, with soft green eyes, a bushy moustache, and a kind smile. He had a girlfriend in town named Denise.

The second cottage belonged to Charlie Roberts, also in his fifties, and full-time like Ray. A quiet man who kept mostly to himself, no one knew much about his past. Charlie was thin, with close-set small eyes, graying auburn hair, and a weak chin.

The college help inhabited the rest of the cottages. There was Clint who helped Luke and me at the stables. Clint was tall, blond, and lean. He had a great sense of humor, and was sort of protective of me. He was very patient and not hesitant to share his knowledge.

My cottage was the fifth one down. Like the others, it was made of cedar wood, with a small, railed front porch.

Jenna's cottage was next to mine and I laughed to myself as I passed it seeing a clothesline strung across her front porch with all of her fine delicates dancing in the summer breeze. Friday was her day to hang her thong underwear out on the line to display. She claimed she'd never dream of machine washing such fine silk.

Skank
.

I entered my cottage, hooking the screen door behind me to allow some air inside. I went into the bedroom and switched the window A/C on to full blast. I stripped to my bra and panties and sprawled out on the bed. Grabbing a Cosmo from my nightstand, I flipped the pages while the cool air washed over me. Cosmo was reporting on yet another type of female orgasm. I'd be happy just to know what one (non-self-induced) one felt like. I was so curious about sex, and especially about good sex, yet my experience with guys had amounted to nothing more than making out and some "no-risk" petting.

I liked guys. I loved the way they walked. I loved the way that their muscles moved. So why had I never had a man?

Maybe being around my mom and the array of boyfriends that had come and gone over the years had turned me into some frigid bitch. She had certainly learned to hate men as a result, telling me over and over again none of them could be trusted, and that they wanted one and only one thing from a woman.

I remembered something that had happened around the time I was ten or eleven. Something had startled me from my sleep one night. There were strange noises coming from my mom’s room. It sounded like she was in pain. She was moaning and it scared me. As I approached her bedroom door, I heard her bed creaking rhythmically and a man’s voice. At the time, I thought someone was hurting her until I heard his voice.

There was no mistaking it. It was my best friend Jenny Marcotti's dad!

I was frozen both with shock and disgust. At eleven, I understood more than I should have about the birds and the bees; and about sexual relations between a man and a woman. It was hard to remain ignorant with the way my mother pranced the men in her life past me like some ill-gotten trophy. It mattered not if they were single or married, but my best friend's dad? I was sickened and ashamed. She'd gone too far

At least I thought so at the time. It would be a few more years until she topped that one.

I had covered my ears and ran back to my room. That night I wet the bed and Mom had spanked me for it the next morning.

In the weeks following that night, I had seen Mr. and Mrs. Marcotti around town. In fact, Mrs. Marcotti had complimented my mom on her new leather coat and matching boots.

“Maggie,” she'd called out as Mom and I were on our way out of the Piggly Wiggly one evening. “I love your coat. Did you get that at Macy’s?”

“Thanks, Patty,” Mom replied, smiling. Mr. Marcotti had joined us from the parking lot. “Actually, I’m not sure where it came from. It was a gift from a friend.”

“Wow, some friend I guess. That color is perfect on you. You know, I saw one very similar to that at Macy’s in Louisville last month. I begged Herb to get it for me, but noooo, he said, ‘that’s too extravagant Patty’,” mimicking her husband’s voice. “Remember, Herb? Remember when I practically begged you for that leather coat?”

“Vaguely,” Herb replied, fidgeting with his keys.

“Well, Maggie, I envy you,” Patty had sighed, lightly rubbing her finger on the sleeve of Mom’s coat. “It must be nice to have someone who isn’t shy about shooting his wad for something like this.” Mom and Herb had exchanged quick glances.

“Well, c’mon Herb,” Patty instructed. “Let’s find a cart and get in there. Nice seeing you, Maggie. You too, honey,” she smiled, glancing over at me.

“Take care, Patty, Herb,” Mom had replied, hurrying me to our car.

I'd nearly convinced myself that I'd dreamt the whole scene with my mom and Mr. Marcotti, until that day and the subject of the leather coat came up. I knew then Mr. Marcotti had bought mom the coat. After that, I didn’t hang around with Jenny Marcotti. They moved away a year later.

Shaking the thought out of my head, I tried to focus on the present. What had made me think about Jenny Marcotti’s dad and my mom? My thoughts scattered when I heard a knock at the door.

Jumping from my bed, I grabbed the robe that hung on my bathroom door and shrugged it on, tying the belt around my waist. I padded through the bedroom and saw Clint standing at the front door with his boyish grin.

“Hey, sorry,” he apologized, “didn’t mean to catch you at a bad time.”

“No worries,” I responded, smiling. “What’s up?”

Clint turned momentarily shy then quickly shrugged it off. “Just wondered if you're going down for a beer with us at Luke’s? If you feel like going…we can walk down together, I mean, that's if you really want to go.” He was starting to stumble over his words. That was kind of cute, kind of Clint.

“Sounds like a plan to me,” I smiled. “What time?”

“I’m going to clean up and grab a sandwich. Be back around seven?”

“That works for me. Thanks, Clint. See you in a bit.”

I finally got my nice, cool shower. Afterward, standing in front of the bathroom mirror, I analyzed my face. My eyes were tawny brown. I didn’t wear a lot of eye make-up, but tonight for some reason, I wanted to look more sophisticated, so I went for it.

I decided to wear my favorite jean skirt and a white cotton tank. I glanced at the clock on my microwave and saw that it was about ten till seven. Opening the fridge, I grabbed a handful of seedless grapes to hold me over since I'd skipped lunch.

There was a knock on my front door as I finished the grapes, and tugged at my short jean skirt, trying to make it cover more than it was supposed to cover. I opened my door to a smiling Clint.

Chapter 3

When we arrived at Luke’s, the last cottage before the woods, the party was well underway. There were lawn chairs set up around in the side yard and a fire pit ready to go as soon as the sun went down. There was a keg on ice and a couple of coolers sitting side-by-side, stocked with other kinds of booze.

I waved to Ray and his girlfriend Denise who were sitting together on a log. I'd met Denise earlier in the week when Ray brought her by the stables. She was in her forties and she owned a salon in town. She was warm and friendly. I really liked her.

“Hey, Denise,” I grinned, glad she was here.

“Hey, sweetie,” she called out. "You're looking real pretty this evening."

"You too," I called over, giving her a smile.

Clint was talking with Luke and Rodney over by the keg. He caught my eye and came over to offer me a wine cooler. I wasn't a drinker. I had relatively little experience with alcohol.

“I thought maybe you'd prefer this to a beer,” he said, twisting the cap off and handing it to me.

“Thank you, Clint,” I replied, accepting the cold bottle. I tipped it to my lips and, because I was parched, drank the whole thing down at once.

“Easy, girl,” Clint warned, “I know it’s not whiskey, but if you don’t drink alcohol very often, anything can have a kick to it.”

"May I have another?” I smiled coquettishly up at him. He shook his head, making his way over to the ice chest for another wine cooler. He handed me the ice-cold bottle, with a stern comment.

“Slower this time, and I mean it, okay?” He raised his bottle of Bud and took a lengthy swallow. Just then, Jenna’s shrill voice filled the air. I quickly downed half of the wine cooler, grateful that Clint had turned to watch her approach us.

“Well, well, well, what’s goin’ on with you two, huh? Tylar, hey girl, look at you! I really like your skirt. Generally, short girls can’t pull that off.”