Saddled (The Stables Trilogy #3) (10 page)

Was Reece really willing to be second place? He’d have to know that J.B. would always hold her love.

Something must have crossed his face, because Reece looked away, mouth drawn into a pained smile.

“I want you to shoot for him,” he growled.  “I want you to try your fucking hardest to win that stubborn son of a bitch over.” His voice softened, and he looked back at her, his arrogant facade back in place. “I'm just offering a backup plan. I don't know if he'd be willing to sell you to me, but I'm promising you, if you want it, I'll try.”

She had to help herself up, leaning heavily on his strong arm. But once raised, she gave him one solid stamp.

Yes, she would be willing.

Chapter Twelve

J.B. was tense when he came to collect her. He practically dragged her by the reins out of the studio. Maple’s head spun with the day’s turn of events, and she stumbled after him.

Even though he hadn't specified, she trotted, her knees out and chest forward.

In the gallery, sunlight illuminating the white of the furniture brilliantly, he jerked the reins, forcing her to stop. “Whoa,” he said, his tone hushed.

The sun was setting. She’d always loved this room the most. It felt so blatantly out of place in the middle of nowhere. The art, hung on every surface, was a giant portal into the heart of J.B. It was the only place he wore his heart on his sleeve, or, as it happened, on his walls. The dusk was beginning to push through, those pinks and oranges Maple loved so much dusting the world in a soft glow.

He lazily reached a hand up to grab some of her hair, running the lock through his fingers. “There’s so much I want to say to you,” he murmured. Her insides danced. She wanted to touch him and to be touched by him.

She wanted to tell him that it was okay to feel lost and confused. That she’d wait for him. That she understood.

She couldn’t do anything but stand there.

She needed more time. Brie had rattled her, and Maple had used to excuse to waste her chance. That was on Maple, not Brie. But now, with an impossible deadline, she was truly wrestling with her choice. Should she risk being kicked from the stable and comfort him? Speak, finally?

Had she changed enough to prove herself?

Before she could make up her mind, his hands fastened on her reins. J.B. was so tall and imposing beside her, it made her thrill at his close proximity. His look was sad and his tone sadder. “Well, I’ll say this; you’re turning into a fine pony.”

It wasn’t a compliment, the way he said it. It stung, and she bit back the anguish.

When they reached the stable, he didn’t even groom her. Just led her into her stall and locked the stable door on his way out.

Maple was ready for Brie and the girls that night. She let them eat her food, not bothering to fight back. She waited until Brie’s face shone with nasty satisfaction.

Then, Maple spoke. Her voice felt raw, weak. “The auction is in a week. I’m not getting J.B., but you aren’t, either, Bitch. Prepare to be sold.” Each word was a betrayal of the vow she’d taken and labored so hard to keep.

But maybe Maple’s problem, all along, had been not speaking up for herself. It didn't matter. It was too late for Maple, but not too late to punish her tormentor. Seeing Brie’s face twist into something ugly at each vocalized word made it worth it. “That can't be right,” the brunette hissed. “You're lying.”

Maple shrugged, looking for all the world like she didn't have a care. “Maybe. But I don’t know if I’d break the vow of silence for a lie.”

“You don't know anything,” Brie sneered. But she and the girls left promptly, leaving Maple and a few scraps of untainted food. Her stomach grumbled, and she ate every last crumb.

Sleep came easily for the first time in weeks. As soon as her head hit her bed, Maple sank into worried dreams.

It was late, or very early depending on your position, when Maple woke. Restless, she focused on the subtle sounds of the stable. The AC unit was cranking up again. The wooden joints in the ceiling creaked at the change in pressure and temperature. There were gentle shifts in the hay of other stalls, the tiniest reminder of all the women present.

Maple was used to these noises. They’d been her companion during many sleepless nights.

A soft click made Maple’s heart skip. Every muscle tensed in a ridiculous mockery of sleep. She shut her eyes, focusing on the sounds.

The stall door next to her’s swung open, its hinges emitting the faintest creak. It was as ominous and loud as a trumpet it in the silent morning.

Brie.

No one else snuck out of their stall without her prodding. They might talk in whispers, but without her commanding presence, they were just lost little girls.

The soft padding of of bare feet passed by Maple’s stall, hesitating briefly. It was hard, but Maple forced her chest to rise and fall in the heavy pattern of a deep sleep. When Brie wanted to scare or hurt her, she was never this cautious or quiet.

What the hell was she up to?

It wasn’t until the metallic click of the door pierced the quiet that Maple opened her eyes again. 

Moving with exaggerated slowness, she began to try to stand up. Every rustle of the hay and scrape of her flesh on concrete jolted her system. There was a silent race happening, one in which Brie was trying to escape without being heard, and Maple trying to catch her undetected.

Every breath, every heartbeat, felt like an hour. Maple crawled until she could peek over her stall door, hovering in the shadows.

The door was cracked. Brie’s hands were wedged through, fiddling with the lock. In an audible snap, it fell open. Brie froze and peered behind her. Maple held her breath, too afraid to move. The shadow cover in her stall must have hidden her, because Brie placed the lock gently on the floor and stole out the open door.

This was the gravest breaking of rules Maple had seen. The talking, the bullying and intimidation-- those were things that the girls could get away with without leaving a trace of evidence. But leaving the stable? That was just crazy.

Maple’s nerves were taut as she considered what to do next.

Chapter Thirteen

I'll just go as far as the door. I won't actually leave. Then it won't be breaking the rules.

She slithered to the door, sticking to the walls in case Brie pushed her way back in too soon. She approached the open doorway with caution. Her palms were sweating and her heart was racing. Every muscle was primed, ready to run or fight.
 

With care, she peeked out the open sliver, thankful for the full moonlight that illuminated the stark landscape in a wash of silver.

Brie was running, full out, toward the other stable. The one with the horses.

Maple cowered. She shouldn’t step out and follow. If they were caught…

Let her go. She won't get far, and she'll be out of your hair for good.

It was truly tempting. Probably the right thing to do. But as Brie slipped into the other stable, Maple’s mind went to the horses. What if her warning about the auction had scared Brie into fleeing? Was she planning on stealing a horse? Even with moonlight, it was too dark for riding. It was just asking for a broken leg.

No matter which horse Brie saddled and stole, it would kill Maple knowing she could have stopped it. She didn’t know if she could get to J.B. and the others before the worst happened. Those horses, each one, was like family. She refused to let them be hurt or even killed by that horrible woman.

Leaving the comfort and safety of the stable, she ran, as quietly as she could, to follow Brie. Slowing just before she came to the stable. Maple plastered her body to the side, her breath ragged and aching. She was yet again thankful for J.B.'s training. All the running and endurance was paying off in unexpected ways.

She snuck to the door to listen. If Brie tried to saddle a horse, Maple would scream and then attack. She’d probably get hurt, but that didn’t worry her nearly as much as the thought of Brie getting away.

Instead of hearing one of the animals being saddled, Brie’s muffled voice floated out. It was impossible to decipher what she was saying, but she was obviously speaking with someone. Her whispered words were clipped. Frantic.

Maple dared to creep closer, peeking in. Brie’s figure was cut against the shadows, her hand pressed to her ear. A phone! She had a phone. How in the hell she managed that, Maple wasn’t sure, but she was almost impressed with the brunette’s ingenuity.

The conversation got heated and Brie cursed, louder, before starting to hurl the phone. Instead, she caught herself and grabbed a stray apple instead, chucking it hard at the door that Maple was pressed to.

Hand clamped across her mouth, Maple hunkered back, terrified she’d been caught. But there were no accusations hurled or bodily attacks. Instead, there was more shuffling, this time too close by to safely peek.

Moving silently, she made her way back around the side of the stable. Just in time, too. Brie darted back out, locking up.

Her tall, nude figure jogged back to the stable where Maple should be, asleep and unaware. Bouncing on the balls of her feet, Maple was torn. She knew she should run, fast as she could, to J.B. and tell him everything. Stop whatever was happening with Brie once and for all.

Except… she’d need proof. The phone. If J.B. and the guys hadn’t found it by now, what chance did she have in the dark? Reece’s unfair warnings warred in her-- J.B. was being stupid now, he’d said. Did that mean Maple’s word wouldn’t count anymore? Would she really just be digging her own grave with her accusations?

Fuck! What was going on? And what was she supposed to do about it?

She’d have to go back. Keep a close eye on Brie. The next time try and find the phone. It would give her all the proof she needed.

There was more to it, she felt it in her bones. There was, weaving in with her hesitation, a small hope. One where she was able to save J.B. Save the day. If she did this on her own, she’d no longer be a damsel in distress. She’d have proven herself. A stronger, more resilient Maple. One who’d changed.

One who was worthy of J.B.

As she thought all this over, Brie disappeared into the stable.

And Maple became horribly aware of why she shouldn’t have followed Brie the way that she had.

In that soft moonlight, she watched Brie’s hand stick back through the door. Maple’s heart dropped and she took off at a run.

She didn’t make it in time. She wasn’t even halfway to the door when Brie managed to snap the lock shut.

Maple was locked out.

Dawn didn’t come soon enough for Maple. Curled into herself, she hovered by the door of the stable. Each new ray from the sun cast a knife into her heart. Sure enough, she saw Raúl first, coming out to get horses ready for everyone to start their day.

When he caught sight of her, she couldn’t avoid the emotions that skirted across his face: confusion, fear, worry… and anger.

He settled on anger as he jogged to her, his eyes darting around, making sure no one saw them.

“What the hell are you doing out here, Maple?” Mutely, she couldn’t help but notice he called her by her name and not the affectionate ‘Belleza’ he normally used. Because she was still a pony, and determined to prove it despite everything, she said nothing.

He moved to help her up, but in his haste it turned into a sharp yank. Maple found herself stumbling, clinging to him to keep from tumbling over again.

“He. will.
hurt
. you!” Raúl growled through gritted teeth. “How did you even get out!?” When she was stable, he grabbed the lock and tugged-- it was still tightly bolted. Anguish twisted his features. “Let’s get you inside
now
!”

He fumbled with the key, finally shoving it in and turning it. The heavy bolt fell open, and Maple found herself ushered into her stall. Not before Brie saw her, a look of surprise and then hateful understanding dashing Maple’s hopes of going unknown. Well, two could play at that-- Maple knew part of Brie’s secret now.

Once in her stall, Raúl glared at her. “This can
never
happen again, Maple. Got that? I can’t cover for you, and I can’t always be there for you.” He stormed out, and Maple heard a cruel snicker behind her.

“So you think you know something?” Brie hissed. “I will bury you now, Bitch.”

Maple turned and glared, not giving Brie the satisfaction of hearing her speak again. She did, however, wonder where Brie had come from. And where all the animosity stemmed from. So far as Maple could recall, all she’d done was not be overly friendly at the start.

Why was the other woman so dead-set on getting Maple in trouble? And why was she sneaking out in the middle of the night?

Maple didn’t have too much time to glare back at Brie. The stable door banged open, flinging and slamming itself into the stable wall as J.B. stormed in. He looked angry, but, Maple sighed, that was sort of his default look.

One she still, even now, thought was irresistibly sexy.

She held her breath, unsure. Raúl had obviously tried to slip her back into the stable unnoticed. But he was the same person who’d told on her when she’d groomed Bane against J.B.’s explicit orders.

But when J.B. simply barked at them to get their ‘pony asses’ out of their stalls for cart-pulling, she exhaled, relief flooding her system.

Maple hadn’t been caught, which was good.

But she was left with a host of questions and worries, and that made her feel very, very concerned.

“This is the last session,” Reece said. Maple appreciated that he sounded genuinely saddened by it. “I’ve been dragging it out, if I’m honest.”

Maple smiled and stamped once. She knew. This was the fifth day of posing in J.B.’s studio for Reece. His friendly banter and paint-smudged face had been good for her. Despite his smarmy, aggressive ways, Maple found he was truly a good friend.

It brought her no small amount of mirth to see him fend off J.B. each day, shielding the trainer from the painting. Maple hadn’t seen it, either. When she thought about it, about what Reece was trying to do for her, her stomach knotted until she felt sick.

“He’s still speaking as if he’ll take you for sale,” he sighed, eyes focused intensely as his brush smoothed over canvas. “But don’t worry,” he added before she could crumple, “I think it’s for show. And when he sees this--” another flourish of the brush, “he’ll be unable to resist you. Hell, I’m hardly able to resist you.”

Maple felt her cheeks flush. Reece somehow managed to help her keep one foot in the human world and one foot firmly in her pony-state. It made her feel, well, powerful. And feminine. She couldn’t help but notice the way his eyes lit up when she’d stamp an answer to a question, or sit carefully, her legs folding under her.

“There.” The word was colored with finality. “Come look.”

Biting her lip, she cautiously stepped over to him. Her movements were stiff but delicate, her body having grown more accustomed to modeling.

Maple’s hand flew over her mouth, catching her delighted gasp.

The painting was stunning. He’d kept the same dark tones of his other work. The canvas was black, thick and textured. He’d painted her half-hidden, her face shadowed as she gazed out from the canvas. There was a look on her face he’d captured brilliantly, one of hopeful longing. It was as if Maple was stepping into the black and begging the viewer to follow her.

Instead of painting her a willing slave, he’d painted her as someone strong and fierce, her vulnerability an asset instead of a flaw.

“There, there,” Reece murmured as he brushed his handkerchief across her cheeks. “I’m glad you like it.”

Oh, how she wanted to speak. Now more than ever before. Maple didn’t like that it was so easy for her to keep secrets, especially ones like Brie. But now she found it was close to impossible to keep in joy. It billowed and flapped inside of her, a sail insisting on being cast out and into the wind.

It was breaking the rules but… but not quite. She grabbed a nearby pen and his sketchbook and hastily scrawled
Thank you
. Reece read over her shoulder.