Read Wild for the Girl Online

Authors: Starr Ambrose

Wild for the Girl (3 page)

“Ready for
me
? You sound like you’re not part of the resort.”

“I’m not. I agreed to set up the stable for Mike and get him the best horses for what he needs, but then I’m done. I’m a horse trainer, not a tour guide. You guys will have to get someone else to take your tourists on trail rides.”

A twinge of disappointment tugged at his chest. She’d be leaving. But then, so would he. “Right, you don’t work with people.”

“That’s right.” She held her hand out. “Keys?”

“Sure.” He smiled politely. “Just tell me where we keep them, and they’re yours.”

“Top desk drawer, right in front of you.”

He slid the drawer open to the collection of pens, paper clips, printer cartridges, and scattered coins. A key lay in the far-right corner, attached to a prominent blue Ford emblem on a key chain. He stared blankly at the clutter until she sighed and stepped forward, reaching across him to snatch the keys. He didn’t move back, forcing her to brush her arm against his chest while her ponytail swung under his nose. It was a silly maneuver to bring her closer, an impulse he shouldn’t have given in to, and he inhaled, expecting the scent of dust and sweat to jolt him back to reality. Instead he got a warm scent of soap and something vaguely flowery that got mixed up in his head with images of steamy showers and fresh sheets, along with a strong urge to touch her. He took a firm grip on the arms of the chair until she moved away.

“Thanks. I’ll bring them back later.”

Reese shook the scented fog from his mind, his brows drawing together in concern. “Wait. You shouldn’t be trailering four horses by yourself. Take someone with you.”

She paused at the door. “Actually, I have someone. Tad insisted on coming along, since he’s too sore to do much riding today.”

Tad Prescott was the last person he’d have chosen. “He won’t be any help.”

“I don’t need
help
.” She made it sound like only a simpleton would need help managing four horses on her own. “But I suppose he’ll be good company.”

If she liked having a handsome movie star hit on her for a couple of hours. He frowned at the thought that she might.

“So Tad likes horses now, huh?” It felt juvenile to remind her that Tad was afraid of the animals she adored, but not juvenile enough to stop him from saying it.

She laughed, wrinkling her nose and stirring a crazy desire inside him to kiss it. Christ, he must miss Caroline more than he thought, which was a revolting thought. “I don’t think so,” T.J. told him. “But he’s determined to get over his fear, and you have to admire that kind of dedication, don’t you?”

He frowned as she left. No, he didn’t have to admire Tad’s dedication, or anything else about him. Not at all.

 

3

Dropping in on Tad’s lesson didn’t improve Reese’s opinion of him. The guy spent as much time flirting as riding, and the most irritating part was that T.J. seemed to find it amusing.

“Now you’ve got it,” she called out to him as he trotted around the indoor arena. “Just like when you did it bareback,” she told him.

“I’ve always excelled at bareback activities,” he said from across the arena, wiggling his eyebrows.

Big deal, Reese thought. Tad had finally figured out how to keep his ass glued to the saddle. A trot might be the most jolting gait, but Tad’s horse was doing a perfect Western jog, head low and strides lazy. It wasn’t nearly as difficult to sit as a fast, jarring trot, and Tad’s movie character wouldn’t be doing a fancy jog through town, not unless he wanted the other cowboys to fall down laughing.

Tad rounded the arena, then halted the horse in front of her. Reese stood close enough to see the wink he gave her. “Sweetheart, I would have had it sooner if you’d just told me to rock my pelvis like I was having sex.”

She seemed unfazed. “You’re right, I should have put it in terms you’d understand.”

“It might even help me if we rehearsed my riding in the bedroom before getting on a horse. Being a conscientious teacher, I know you want to provide a thorough learning experience for your student.”

She smiled sweetly. “You’re so full of shit, Prescott.”

Damn right. It was exactly what Reese wanted to say, except he would have put a lot more growl in his voice. And he wouldn’t be smiling.

Beside him, Beth piped up, “You looked great, Tad. You’re every bit as good as Harrison Ford or Kevin Costner.”

Tad grinned. “Thanks, Bethy.”

Reese refrained from rolling his eyes. He wouldn’t stick around and listen to this shit, except he didn’t want to leave T.J. to handle it on her own. She hadn’t seemed upset by Tad’s juvenile humor up until now, but the little Hollywood prick was walking a fine line. If he crossed it, Reese wanted to be there to explain it to him. Forcefully.

“I think a bigger horse would help, too,” Tad said.

“What’s wrong with Paco?” T.J. asked, looking over the horse she’d chosen for today’s lesson.

“He’s kind of small for a cowboy.”

“You’re a beginner cowboy, and he’s a good beginner horse. Size doesn’t matter.”

Tad put a hand to his heart to cushion the blow. “Oh, baby, if you believe that, you’ve been missing out. I’d be glad to help with that.”

“Thanks, but I wouldn’t want to come between you and Paco.”

Tad chuckled as Reese ground his teeth. He was sorry he’d forced T.J. into working with Tad. Even Beth’s smile looked a bit strained, as if she’d heard one too many of his lame come-ons.

T.J. waved a hand at Tad. “Keep going. I didn’t say you could stop.”

“No problem, I never stop until the lady is satisfied.” He threw her another wink as he nudged Paco back into a smooth jog.

Reese waited until he could unclench his jaw, then walked over to T.J. as she stood watching her student. “I’m sorry,” he said, keeping his voice low so Beth wouldn’t hear. “I didn’t know he’d be this bad. I’ll bring in someone else to work with him.”

She waved it off. “It’s no big deal. At least it’s not boring. And I hate to confirm what he said, but he
does
have a knack for it. I think he’ll learn all he needs to know in a few weeks.”

She hadn’t spoken as quietly as he had, and Beth overheard. She turned toward them, beaming like a proud parent. “Isn’t he great? Tad can do anything he puts his mind to.”

T.J. glanced around Reese, giving Beth an indulgent smile. “He’s not bad.”

Beth took it as a contradiction, her mouth drawing into a disapproving pucker. “He’s done everything perfectly, you said so yourself. What more can you expect?”

“On Paco? Nothing. But Paco’s a push-button horse. My four-year-old niece could do as well. The real test is doing it on a horse that doesn’t know exactly what you expect, or doesn’t care. A capable rider has to be able to deal with that. Tad’s not there yet.”

Reese raised his eyebrows and hid a smile. He knew it was true, but he’d expected to hear something neutral and maybe a bit passive aggressive, like how nice it was that Beth believed in her boss no matter how he rode. The sort of thing Caroline would have said. But T.J. wasn’t like Caroline in any way. He found it surprisingly refreshing.

Beth didn’t. She stiffened and looked away. Apparently blunt honesty was not appreciated in the world of stroked egos and padded truths. If T.J. noticed, it didn’t bother her any more than Tad’s continual offers of sex did.

He frowned at Beth’s rigid back. The girl’s obsessive worship of Tad Prescott might not stand out in Hollywood, but he found it uncomfortable, and wondered how Tad could stand it. Maybe the actor didn’t realize how deep her devotion ran. Or maybe he expected it.

One more reason he didn’t care for Tad Prescott.

*   *   *

T.J. hesitated halfway up Mike’s driveway when she saw the sporty Porsche Cayman S parked outside the garage. Reese’s car. She’d heard he’d driven out here in some flashy, impractical city car that wouldn’t make it through the first big snowstorm in the mountains, proof that he didn’t plan to stay long. She just hadn’t realized he’d be staying at his dad’s house.

They’d barely said more than hello the past three days when he dropped in on Tad’s lesson. Not that she was avoiding Reese, but Tad kept up a running dialogue of jokes and come-ons, making it difficult to talk to anyone else. That was probably good, since she found Reese inexplicably attractive, and love ’em and leave ’em city boys weren’t her type.

Taking a deep breath, she parked near the front door. Mike had asked to see the brochures for the new horse trailer, and since they’d released him from the hospital, she had no choice but to go to his house.

A housekeeper let her in and showed her to a study where Mike sat in a leather chair, both legs propped on an ottoman, the cast making the right one nearly twice as big as the left. At the desk across the room, Reese looked up in surprise.

Her gaze met his over a large computer monitor, then skittered back to Mike while she pretended her heart hadn’t given the same funny leap in her chest that happened every time she saw Reese. She hated herself for it. She knew damn well what it was, a silly infatuation based on nothing more than physical attraction. The kind of reaction she hadn’t had to a guy since high school. Avoiding Reese was the only solution until the response wore off. Unfortunately, it was taking a long time.

“Hi, Mike, how’s the leg today?” she asked.

“Itchy,” he said, scowling. “And the nurse doesn’t even sympathize.”

“Poor baby.” She matched the nurse’s attitude without sincerity. “Here, these will take your mind off it.”

“Not unless they have naked women in them,” Mike grumbled.

She heard Reese approach from behind her, and felt the hairs on the back of her neck come to attention. “You brought my father pornography?”

“Hardly.” She turned to give him a disgusted look, which died before it had a chance to form. She stared. “What happened to your suit?”

He gave her a puzzled smile. “Did you think I wore it twenty-four hours a day?”

“No, I just . . .” She swallowed hard. Just didn’t expect to see him in boots, worn jeans, and a plain T-shirt that hugged the contours of his chest. His well-defined chest that didn’t look at all like what she’d expected from a man who wore suits to work every day. Reese Barringer might do the
GQ
look to perfection, but he made tight jeans and an old T-shirt look downright sinful. She licked her lips and turned back to Mike, trying to focus on whatever the hell they’d intended to talk about. Oh yeah, horse trailers.

She tapped the photo in his hands. “The aluminum is more expensive, but a lot lighter weight, and if you have to pull any distance up mountain roads, it could matter.”

“Why do we need another horse trailer?” Reese asked. He stood too close, looking past her shoulder to see the brochures in his father’s hands.

His breath hit the back of her neck, and she shrugged off a pleasant shiver, fighting to keep her thoughts straight. “If you ever need to get a couple of horses into or out of the high country in a hurry, a two-horse is a lot easier to maneuver than a six-horse, which is all you have now.”

“And why would we want to give our horses a ride up the mountain?”

“Search parties, rescues, resupplying a camping party, any number of reasons. Also, you’ll be dealing with inexperienced riders who might change their minds halfway through the ride, or get sick, or fall off, or have an emergency back home and need a quick ride back. Same with a horse if it gets hurt a few miles from the resort and can’t walk all the way home.” God, did he have to smell like he’d just showered, then rolled in pine needles? It was a masculine, earthy scent, and made her nose tingle, along with one or two other areas.

Reese was silent for a couple of seconds. “Makes sense. Which one do you recommend?”

“This one.” She pulled a pamphlet from Mike’s hands and passed it to Reese. He stood close enough to feel his body heat on her arm, and she knew she should move away. Instead she allowed her arm to brush his. It was pretty minor as thrills went, but packed a lot of heat, most of it settling between her thighs. “The extra-tall model, because several of your horses are over sixteen hands and they need the headroom.”

“Does this price include mats on the floor?”

So the city boy wasn’t totally ignorant about trailering horses. “No, but I can talk them into it.”

“How about a tack compartment?”

“I’d recommend that, too.”

Reese nodded thoughtfully. Mike cleared his throat. “Since when do you have an interest in horse trailers, Reese?”

Reese handed the pamphlet back. “I thought I was supposed to be managing until you were back on your feet. You’re incapacitated.”

“Not mentally.” He shot a curious look at his son, then looked up at T.J. “Now tell me why I shouldn’t save a couple thousand bucks with this one here.”

T.J. leaned closer and concentrated on talking trailers with Mike while trying to shut out her other senses. They’d gone on high alert when Reese got near, and now her nerve synapses were crackling with anticipation, yearning to touch him again.

It was infuriating. He was the wrong man to be attracted to. The casual man in blue jeans wasn’t the real Reese Barringer, he was merely playing a role. The real Reese was big city all the way, suits and Porsche and those perfectly polished women Mike had mentioned. He was smooth and sophisticated, too urbane to appreciate Barringer’s Pass, Colorado. Six weeks, and he’d be gone. The man had heartbreak written all over him.

But her body didn’t care. He stayed beside her despite her feigned disinterest, keeping her nerves prickling with awareness, like a persistent tickle beneath her skin. She couldn’t get out of here fast enough.

“You can take a few weeks to decide,” she told Mike as she edged toward the door. “I have to run now, but we’ll talk about it later.”

Mike raised an eyebrow at her quick escape. “I’ll walk you out,” Reese said.

She walked briskly, anxious to get away from that tingly feeling that made her want to touch him again, but he stuck with her. “Thanks for dropping by. He hates being stuck here, and he likes seeing you.”

“No problem; I like your dad.”

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