My Favorite Mistake (17 page)

I smirked. “I forgot to tel you that Kenzie’s pregnant.”

He laughed. “Big surprise.”

“I mean, she said that lately she hasn’t been in the mood to…you know.”

The door suddenly swung open with Sam tel ing the dogs to be quiet. He looked flushed and his hair was ruffled. “Hi, Denise, hi, Redford. Welcome to our home.” He laughed.

“Our noisy home.”

I said hel o and the men shook hands. Tingling with embarrassment, I stepped inside the beautiful y decorated log cabin. From the looks of Sam, we had definitely arrived in the middle of…something.

Kenzie appeared from a hal , barefoot and running. “Denise! It’s so good to see you!”

We hugged. “You, too…new mama. Er, I tried to cal , but my battery died.”

“Oh, that’s okay, we were just…cleaning. So that’s Redford?” she whispered in my ear. “Yowsa. He looks like that and he has a big—”

“Kenzie—” I cut in, my voice a warning. “I’m an engaged woman.”

“Don’t worry,” she said out of the corner of her mouth. “I won’t say anything…suggestive. And Sam and I wil be on our best behavior al afternoon.”

“Good,” I said. “By the way…your blouse is on backward.”

“Great news, Kenzie,” Sam said from the doorway. “Redford has a double-cab pickup—there’s room for you and Denise to ride along.”

Kenzie clapped her hands, then looked at me. “Oh, Denise, is that okay? I thought we’d stay here, but there’s a pony at Val a Farms that Sam and I want to look at.”

I stared at her. Kenzie Mansfield used to be the most cosmopolitan woman I knew and now she stood barefoot and pregnant in a log cabin, talking about ponies? What had

happened to the woman I knew?

She’d fal en in love with a man and lost herself.

“I don’t like horses,” I murmured.

“Are you up for it?” Redford asked, his eyebrows raised in question. He held his hat in his hands and—Good grief, he was so…appealing.

“Come on,” Kenzie urged in my ear. “It’l be fun.” Then she winked. “Besides, horses can be kind of sexy.”

Great. Just…great.

15

“RELAX,” REDFORD URGED.

Easier said than done, considering I was astride a mammoth creature capable of tossing me off like a rag dol and trampling me beneath its razor-sharp hooves. Worse,

Redford sat behind me on the beast, thigh to thigh, his arms loosely around mine, demonstrating the proper position for holding the reins.

I could barely breathe, but I murmured, “I’m relaxed,” over my shoulder.

“Your back is a ramrod, and your arms are like rebar.”

“I don’t know what that is.”

“Trust me, it’s stiff.”

His sexy voice rumbling in my ear wasn’t helping matters. Plus I felt like an idiot wannabe, wearing my riveted jeans, embroidered shirt, horse sweater, and suede fringe jacket.

Kenzie had loaned me a pair of her Doc Martens—they were snug, but had weathered the random piles of horse poo that littered the stable floor. However, there was no piece of

equipment that could stem the pungent odor of horseflesh…ugh—it was an acquired smel , at best.

But the owners of Val a Farms had been accommodating…while they prepared the stud that Redford was interested in, he had asked to saddle one of their trail horses to help

me, he said, to get over my fear of horses. I had been reluctant (a slight understatement), until I started feeling like a sissy as Kenzie and Sam had pleaded with me to give it a try. I had acquiesced, frankly, to get it over with.

Now, as I was being jolted around on the saddle atop “Reggie,” I was regretting my weakness. Sissies got the last laugh—they lived longer.

“The horse can sense your fear,” Redford said into my ear. “Loosen up—try to get in synch with the animal, to anticipate its movement. It’s not unlike making love.”

I jerked my head around. “You’re not helping.”

He chuckled in my ear. “Okay, I’l be quiet.”

As we walked in a circle, I tried to do what Redford said, to loosen my muscles and my joints, to sway with the horse, not against it.

“That’s good,” he murmured.

“I feel like I could fal off.”

“Use your thighs and knees to hang on.”

His unspoken words “not unlike making love” hung in the air.

“Besides, I’m not going to let you fal .”

But when I pressed my knees into Reggie, he startled and picked up speed.

“What did I do?” I cried.

“Maintain even pressure with your knees—when you squeeze, he thinks you want him to speed up.”

Not unlike making love.
With Redford’s chest pressed up against my back and being cocooned in his arms, my imagination—and memory—didn’t have far to leap to make

the connection.

“By the way, I like your sweater,” he said. “Looks familiar.”

I decided not to answer. Explaining that I’d been on the verge of giving it away seemed too complicated. But knowing that he remembered the sweater put a warm feeling in my

stomach…and lower.

I forced myself to concentrate on the efficiency of the horse’s movements, and Redford’s. Soon I was rocking rhythmical y in the saddle, pleased to be getting the hang of it…

until I became aware of something else entirely. Where the saddle rose up in front of me, it was applying pressure to my womanly regions…And the more relaxed I became, the more the pressure hit…
home.
Panicked, I glanced from side to side. Was this normal?

“That’s it,” Redford murmured in my ear. “Now you’re getting the hang of it.”

Indeed. It was like dancing—my shoulders flowing, my hips rocking. I was at the perfect angle to be stroked by the hard leather saddle with every stride, and I could feel myself growing warm and moist. Being sandwiched between Redford’s muscular body and the powerful horse was one of the most erotic things I’d ever experienced. With a start, I realized that if I didn’t stop, the inevitable would happen. And if I had an orgasm right here and now, I’d have to throw myself under the horse to be trampled because I’d never be able to face Redford or my friends—or anyone—again.

“I’m ready to stop,” I said suddenly.

Something in my voice must have convinced him not to argue because he said, “Okay. Gently pul back on the reins, and say, ‘whoa.’”

I did, and to my amazement, the horse stopped.

“See, not so hard,” Redford said, sliding down first. Then he talked me through dismounting properly, and quickly, so the horse wouldn’t move. When my second foot landed—in

squishy poo—I felt a little unsteady, not to mention light-headed, from using dormant muscles and from my secret little sensual experience. Redford steadied me with his hand and gave me a wink. “You’re a natural.”

Despite the cold, my cheeks felt warm from his praise. I was exhilarated, flush with accomplishment…and heightened physical awareness. “Liar. But thank you, Redford. It

was…fun.”

“Good,” he said, his dark eyes sincere. “I’m glad I could introduce you to a new experience.”

I realized that every time I was with Redford, he introduced me to new things—things I wouldn’t have done on my own—and wound up liking. I couldn’t look away from his gaze,

and felt a new, sizzling connection with him. My sensitized areas tingled and I was at a loss for words.

A man entered the stable yard and told Redford they were ready in the broodmare barn. (From my reading, I knew that was a place where the girl horses stayed until they were

ready to…you know.) Redford handed off the horse we’d been riding to the man and the four of us walked to the long, narrow building the man indicated.

There the scent of horseflesh was overpowering. The barn was lined on both sides with unbelievably nice stables, each door adorned with a brass plate with the occupant’s

name on it. The horses themselves weren’t visible, but we could hear them moving around and occasional y neighing.

A man who identified himself as the foreman shook our hands and welcomed us to Val a Farms. “Mr. DeMoss, I understand you’re here to find a teaser stud to take back to

Kentucky.”

“That’s right,” Redford said with a nod.

“We have a horse I think you’re going to like. His name is Henry—he’s part draft horse.”

“Sounds good,” Redford said. “I’d like to see him in action.”

“I’l bring him in now, sir.”

The foreman moved away from us and I asked Redford, “The stud isn’t a Thoroughbred?”

“No. I’m looking for a teaser stud, not a stal ion. Thoroughbreds don’t make good teasers—they’re too high-strung.”

I frowned. “What’s a ‘teaser’ stud?”

He nodded toward the big gray horse being led in. “You’l see.”

“Henry” was neighing—squealing real y, lifting his big head as if he were cal ing out to the horses in the stal s. The foreman checked a clipboard, then pointed to the first stal .

The man leading Henry opened the stal door, then stood back as Henry stuck his head in.

Blam!
I jumped as the mare delivered a swift kick with her rear hoof that zoomed past Henry’s head and landed against the stal door. Henry seemed to take the reaction in stride as he backed away and waited patiently as the handler closed the door, moved down two stal s and opened another one. Again Henry stuck his head in, sniffing the air, emitting a low squeal. The mare inside, after a bit of stamping and shuffling, lifted her tail and urinated. A bit gross from my perspective, but Henry seemed satisfied and retreated. The foreman made notes on his clipboard and directed the handler where to take him next.

Henry made his way down the stable row, sticking his head in and dodging powerful kicks when necessary, or neighing and rearing his head when a mare backed up to him

and flipped her tail.

I wasn’t an expert, but I took a wild guess that tail-flipping was a signal that she wouldn’t mind being mounted. Except instead of obliging, Henry would whinny and back out,

moving on to the next mare.

“A teaser stud,” Redford said in my ear, “gets the mare excited so when the high-strung and high-dol ar Thoroughbred stal ion struts in, she’l be ready.”

The analogy wasn’t lost on me. A hot flush bloomed on my chest and scalded my neck. Since Redford’s arrival Friday, I’d been in a near-constant state of arousal. He was

intimating that he was getting me worked up, and Barry would get the benefit. Knowing that Redford knew he was getting to me only made me more uncomfortable…and more aroused.

I couldn’t look at him, didn’t trust my reaction. But I realized with dismay that the sex life of animals and the sex life of humans was more alike than different—both were complicated.

By the end of the exercise, Henry was…stirred up, giving me my first look at a stal ion’s penis. (I could strike that item from my life list.) I was duly impressed…and a little fearful for the mares. Henry must have known he wasn’t getting any action today, though, because he lost his erection as soon as the last stable door closed. Redford asked the foreman more questions about the stud while he patted down the horse. Sam also looked the horse over, checking teeth, eyes and hooves, and removing a stethoscope to listen to the horse’s organs.

It was hard for me to take my eyes off Redford, though. Seeing him in his natural environment was mesmerizing. He was a big man, could hold his own against a behemoth like

Henry when he started to prance around. While stil talking, Redford grabbed the lead rope and settled the horse down within seconds.

“He’s something,” Kenzie whispered.

I turned to look at her. “The horse?”

“No, not the horse, sil y—Redford.”

“Um…yes, Redford knows his way around horses.”

Kenzie angled her head. “He seems to know his way around you, too. Are you sure there’s no unfinished business between the two of you?”

I looked at her, my throat and chest tight. “I’m engaged, Kenzie.”

She narrowed her eyes. “But you’re not married yet. If you stil have feelings for this man, Denise, you’d better find closure now rather than later, when so many lives wil be upended.”

Her dialogue was cut short by the appearance of Sam. “Kenzie, are you ready to look at that pony?”

“Oh, yes! Let’s go.”

Redford was shaking hands with the foreman when we walked up, making plans to talk again after he returned to Kentucky. I felt a sad little pang thinking about him leaving, but reminded myself that I, too, would soon be swept back into my regular life.

The four of us fol owed the handler to a barn, where he handed off Henry, then were led to another building that he cal ed the birthing barn. Inside were more stal s, equal y as fancy as in the broodmare barn. He led us to one on the end and opened the stal door. Inside, a brown mother and her leggy gray foal stood nuzzling.

Kenzie fel in love instantly. “Oh, isn’t it the most precious thing you’ve ever seen?”

Sam agreed, but seemed more interested in checking out the foal’s physique.

“This here is Henry’s foal,” the handler said.

I looked at Redford. “So he does get to…um…”

Redford laughed, his eyes merry, then he leaned down. “Eventual y you have to let the teaser stud go al the way, or he loses interest altogether.”

My skin burned. Was his remark a veiled threat…or a promise? Was Redford implying that this was my last chance? His expression looked innocent enough, but I knew Redford wel enough to know that there wasn’t anything innocent about him.

Kenzie and Sam arranged to come back to get the foal, and Kenzie chattered about it nonstop as we started back to their house. How she wanted their baby to grow up around

horses and to have his or her own pony. Sitting in the back seat with her, I nodded, pretending to listen. But I was actual y stil pondering her earlier warning—if I had unresolved feelings for Redford, I should explore them now, while Redford was here and before I married Barry.

Throughout the day, the skies had grown increasingly leaden, the temperature increasingly colder. And within a few minutes of getting on the road, we encountered freezing

rain.

“I was afraid this was going to happen,” Redford said, shifting into a lower gear.

“Don’t worry—we have plenty of room for the two of you to spend the night,” Kenzie piped up.