Riding Hard (5 page)

“No, I’m not. I’m trying to get a bead on just how bad your bad opinion of me is.”

“No, you’re trying to charm me.”

His expression was priceless, exactly like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar. “Busted.” He gazed at her. “Was it working?”

“You know it was. It’s what you do best. That’s why I’m so leery of you.”

“Leery? You mean like afraid?”

She thought about that. “Maybe.”

“Why would you be afraid of me?” He spread his arms wide. “I’m completely harmless.” Then he sniffed and made a face. “However, I stink to high heaven. I could use a shower before we sit down to eat. I can’t stand myself, so I can only imagine what I’m puttin’ you through. If you want to be judgmental about that, I wouldn’t blame you a bit.”

Smiling, she shook her head. “You just can’t help it, can you?”

“Help what?”

“Never mind. Let’s go back to the house so I can fix us some dinner and you can shower.” She started walking in that direction, but her thoughts remained with their conversation. If she understood him correctly, he was offering himself as a guinea pig, but only if she could stop judging him long enough to help him work through some issues.

He fell into step beside her. “Obviously I didn’t bring any spare clothes.”

“I thought of that.” She didn’t want him to know how long she’d obsessed about it. “How close are you to Regan’s size?”

“Pretty close, if you’re willing to raid his underwear drawer and maybe snag me a shirt or two. The jeans will be okay for another day or so.”

“I’ll see what I can find and leave them in your room.”

“That would be great. While you’re at it, maybe if you nose around you’ll come up with a spare razor, and maybe even a new toothbrush and toothpaste. Regan typically has backup stuff like that. He likes being organized.”

“I’ll look. Under the circumstances, I’m sure he wouldn’t care if I raid his bathroom supplies.”

“If you’d rather not, I could make a quick run home. Maybe that would be better.”

“No.” Just the thought of him leaving caused panic to well up again. Her sense of security depended on him being right here. “Please don’t.”

“Okay, okay. I won’t leave until Dottie drops her foal.”

“Thank you.” Her panic disappeared immediately. But now that they’d mentioned Dottie, she wanted to reassure herself that the mare was okay. “Let’s check on her before we go in.”

He nodded and switched direction. “Okay, assuming you can stand being around me for another ten minutes. If you want to let me do it while you head for the house, I won’t be offended.”

“I’ll come with you.” She adjusted her path, too. “It’s good practice for me.”

“Practice?”

“For learning to be less judgmental.”

“Ah.” He laughed and glanced over at her. “How about it, Tracy? Any chance your practice could extend beyond putting up with my stench?”

“Such as what?” She had a pretty good idea what he was talking about, but she wanted to be sure.

“Would you be willing to practice accepting my considerable failings, too?”

She met his gaze. “I guess it’s worth a shot.”

“Good deal.” He flashed his superwattage smile.

He might think he’d convinced her just now. In reality, he’d had her at whale poop.

5

D
OTTIE
HAD
TEMPORARILY
stopped leaking colostrum, so in short order Drake was back in the house and standing under a hot shower. He soaped up, grateful for the opportunity to get clean again. Tracy had found him a razor and a toothbrush. She’d even discovered an unused deodorant stick and a new tube of toothpaste that happened to be his brand. He’d replace all the items once this gig was over.

God, he hoped he knew what he was doing by agreeing to let Tracy muck around in his psyche. But he’d learned that solitary self-exploration didn’t work for him, and he couldn’t hang out in the little cabin forever waiting for enlightenment to arrive. He wanted a plan, but so far nothing had occurred to him.

As he’d predicted, his parents were royally pissed that he’d left in the middle of racing season. The guy who’d taken over his practice was quickly winning everyone’s confidence, which irritated his parents even more. They’d shoveled clients his way for years, and now some other vet was reaping the rewards.

Drake didn’t care. He might continue to be a vet, but not in the world of thoroughbred racing. He hoped his temporary replacement would be interested in buying him out, which would probably be the last straw for his folks. Oh, well. He’d tried it their way and had ended up so confused and miserable that he’d thought boinking his best friend’s fiancée was a good idea.

Talking it out with Tracy would be a relief, providing she could give up her tendency to judge him. She’d admitted that was a problem area for her, so their cooperative effort might turn out to be a very good thing. Ideally, they’d help each other.

He hadn’t decided what to do about sex. They both wanted to have it, but that didn’t mean that they should. He’d pretty much promised Josie Chance that he wouldn’t, and in a town like Shoshone there was zero probability that it would stay a secret.

For the moment he wouldn’t worry about it. As he toweled off, he caught the subtle aroma of lentil soup warming on the stove. She must have put the corn bread in the oven as well, because he could smell that, too.

For the first time in months, he felt relaxed and almost peaceful. Tracy knew the worst about him, and yet she was fixing him supper. Better yet, she needed him around because of Dottie. Remembering her panic whenever she thought he might leave made him feel a little bit like her knight in shining armor. His armor might be tarnished, but she’d agreed to look past that for the time being.

By the time he walked into the kitchen wearing some of Regan’s clothes but his own jeans and boots, she was in the dining room setting the table. She glanced up and smiled. “Dinner’s almost ready, but I was wondering if you’d—”

“Take another look at Dottie?”

“Yeah. Am I being obsessive?”

“Nope.” Even if he thought so, he wouldn’t have said it. She’d taken on the responsibility of this pregnant mare, and she wouldn’t rest easy until the foal had been born and both mother and baby were fine.

He wouldn’t totally relax until that moment, either. Although he’d been through a lot of deliveries in his Virginia practice, most involving very valuable foals, this one loomed larger than all the others. He wanted to be Tracy’s hero.

Walking outside, he took a deep breath of the warm evening air. The sun had disappeared moments ago, leaving an apricot glow behind. Enough light remained to make out the barn, which was pink with turquoise trim, and the house, painted neon green with orange trim. The orange almost matched the horizon.

Drake remembered his initial impression of this place, the day he and Regan had talked for the first time since the Christmas Eve incident. Regan had cautioned Drake not to make fun of the paint job. Lily was a free spirit who believed in shaking things up. Since that day, Drake had spent enough time here to grow used to the unusual colors, but newcomers always gawked and some of the old-timers muttered about the neighborhood going to hippie hell.

Drake had loyally defended Lily’s paint choices to anyone who had criticized them in his presence. Considering his poor reputation around town, he’d wondered lately if maybe his defense had hurt more than helped her cause. So he’d become less vocal about it.

But the pink-and-turquoise barn appealed to him. The colors flew in the face of tradition, and he was all about that these days. His family was steeped in tradition. He might even say mired in it.

As he walked down to the barn, he realized that this equine-rescue facility made him happy. He’d forced himself not to come here too often because he hadn’t wanted to be a pest, but now he had a perfect excuse to hang around and absorb the ambiance of this little five-acre piece of goodness and light.

He envied Regan, who planned to live here for the foreseeable future. He’d continue his vet practice with Nick Chance, and he’d provide free vet care for the animals that Lily took in. Sweet. Regan had found what he wanted in life. Drake was still searching for that perfect fit.

Inside the barn, he hit the switch that turned on some lights installed along the aisle near the floor. Regan said he’d patterned the lighting after what he’d seen in the much bigger barn at the Last Chance Ranch. Drake would have to take Regan’s word for it. An invitation to the Last Chance, other than Josie’s urging him to go stand on some sacred rock, didn’t seem to be in his immediate future.

Familiar aromas greeted him as he walked down the wooden aisle—sweet hay, sun-dried straw, oiled leather and the earthy scent of horses. Would he like to own a barn like this someday? He might, if the horses weren’t racing stock being groomed for the track. The intense focus of their lives had too closely mirrored his own, and the pressure had threatened to choke the breath out of him. At the time he hadn’t recognized that.

When he came to Dottie’s stall, she was quietly munching on the flake of hay she hadn’t cared about earlier. She paid little attention to him as he walked into the stall. When he checked her teats, they were dry.

“Okay, pretty girl, what’s the story?”

Dottie continued to ignore him as she ate her dinner.

“I hope you realize what a commotion you caused around here. You scared poor Tracy to death. So now what? Are you gonna make us all wait a week? Two weeks?”

The mare lifted her head long enough to gaze at him. But those liquid brown eyes gave nothing away. Then she went back to her meal.

“A lady of mystery, huh? Okay. I’ll go eat my dinner and be back later. I don’t quite trust this lull in the action. I think you have more tricks up your sleeve.”

Giving Dottie a final pat on the rump, he walked out of the stall and latched it behind him. He could take a blood sample, but in the end it was still a guessing game. If Regan were here, he’d use his intuitive skills and probably pinpoint the moment of birth within a few minutes. That was why he was a great vet and Drake was merely an adequate one.

But he’d bring his A-game to this event. Lacking Regan’s horse-whisperer instincts, he’d set his phone alarm to ring on the hour every hour until dawn. If he lost a little sleep, it didn’t matter. He was no longer on a rigid schedule.

Tracy had turned on some lights in the house, and the cozy look of it beckoned to him. Funny how much he felt at home, even though both he and Tracy were visitors here. A week from now, regardless of what happened with Dottie, he and Tracy would be gone. Yet at this moment, he felt grounded, as if he finally belonged somewhere. Weird.

When he opened the screen door and walked inside, he had the insane urge to call out
Honey, I’m home!
He didn’t, both because it would be lame and because she might think he’d gone completely nuts. She was studying psychology, which logically had to include abnormal psych. He didn’t want to be classified with that second bunch.

Even so, he should at least announce his presence, in case she hadn’t heard him come in. He didn’t want to startle her. “Hey, Tracy!” he called out. “I’m back!”

“Good.” Her voice came from the kitchen. “I’ll take the corn bread out now.”

Damn, but this was homey. He’d deliberately avoided sharing a condo or apartment with a woman because he’d known he wasn’t even close to settling down. The thought had always felt stifling. Yet this...was not.

Tracy was in the process of setting the corn-bread pan on the stove when he walked into the kitchen. She glanced over at him, her face flushed with the heat from cooking. Her ponytail was coming loose, and little wisps of dark hair at her nape were damp with sweat. “How’s Dottie?”

He longed to get her even hotter and sweatier. It would be so simple to walk over there and gather her into his arms. He couldn’t be absolutely sure how she’d react, but he didn’t think she’d resist once she got over the initial surprise. Women seemed to like the way he kissed.

She probably thought of him as some sort of Don Juan, though. She eventually might forgive his betrayal of Regan, but he couldn’t deny that he was popular with the ladies. At least he had been before coming here. If he and Tracy ended up having sex, it would be a hundred times better if she made the first move.

So instead of crossing the room and kissing her, he stayed where he was and answered her question. “Honestly? If I didn’t know better, I’d say that mare’s decided not to deliver for a couple of weeks. Her teats are perfectly dry now.” He walked over to the sink and started washing up.

“So it’s a false alarm.” She picked up a knife and cut the corn bread into squares. “I brought you out here for nothing.”

“Not at all.” And even if Dottie had issued a false alarm, he’d never think this trip was for nothing. He loved being here with Tracy. It was the most fun he’d had since arriving in Jackson Hole. “Something’s going on, or she wouldn’t have produced that colostrum this afternoon. I still plan to watch her closely tonight.”

As she transferred pieces of corn bread into a napkin-draped basket, she paused to look at him. “You’ll come and get me if she goes into labor, right?”

“You bet.” He was counting on the excitement of the moment to distract him from the temptation she’d present when she was half-awake and wearing something skimpy. “You wouldn’t want to miss the main event.”

“Absolutely not.” She held out the basket of corn bread. “You can take this into the dining room and I’ll bring the soup. Oh, I nearly forgot. There’s wine. Do you want any? Or a beer?”

He shook his head. He didn’t need a fuzzy brain, both because of the mare and because of the hot woman he was determined not to touch until she touched him. “We can save that for a celebration after the foal is born.” He wondered if that would be when Tracy let down her hair and her barriers. Maybe. He hoped Dottie would give birth real soon.

“Good idea. I won’t have any, either. We should stay sharp. I’ll bring us some water.”

Drake had to smile as he walked into the dining room. She’d lit the tapers sitting in silver holders in the center of the table. Regan had given Lily those candlesticks, and since then the happy couple had eaten by candlelight almost every evening. Drake was touched that Tracy thought he was worthy of candles.

Place mats had been put down, too, he noticed, and cloth napkins. A plate to hold the soup bowl stood waiting at each place. A butter dish was already on the table. “This looks nice.” He positioned the basket of corn bread where they both could reach it.

“I don’t entertain often.” She walked in with a bowl of steaming soup in each hand and placed them on the table. “Lily and Regan are set up for it, and I decided to make things festive as a way to thank you for donating your time to this effort.”

“It’s my pleasure.” It was the polite thing to say, but the words had never been truer.

“Choose your seat.”

He glanced at the table. She’d arranged the place settings so that one of them would be at the head of the table and the other to that person’s right. He stood behind the chair at the second spot. “I’ll sit here.”

She laughed. “I figured you for the head of the table.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know. You sound like Rhett Butler, and he would take the head of the table.”

“I’m happy to destroy another stereotype.”

“Then have a seat.”

“Not yet. I might not automatically sit at the head of the table, but I’m Southern to the bone, which means I will help you into your chair.”

“Oh!” She smiled brightly. “That would be lovely.” She paused until he came around. “Sarah Chance would approve of your manners.”

“Is that right?” He pulled out Tracy’s chair, waited until she was seated, and slid the chair smoothly up to the table, just as he’d been taught as a boy. This close, he was tempted to lean down and kiss the soft skin behind her ear, but she’d probably jump ten feet if he did. Releasing his hold on her chair, he moved to his own and sat down.

Tracy put her napkin in her lap. “Sarah’s big on manners, including the old-fashioned things like holding a lady’s chair and opening doors. All three of her sons are known for it. The cowhands who work for her are expected to behave that way, too.”

“Is she Southern?” He’d pretty much given up on the idea of making friends with Sarah, the matriarch at the Last Chance Ranch. He hadn’t met her, but she was reputed to be extremely protective of her extended family, which included Regan. She might approve of Drake’s manners, but she certainly wouldn’t approve of him.

“No, she was a Yankee originally. She’s almost like the queen of this area.”

“So I’ve heard.” He understood why Regan hadn’t taken him out to the ranch to meet Sarah. He kept hearing about the woman, though, and he couldn’t shake the idea that if he had Sarah on his side, everyone else would ease up. He’d had a nice talk with Josie today. Maybe that was a start.

“I’ve known Sarah forever, so she doesn’t intimidate me, but I can understand how she would affect others. She has a regal bearing about her, which makes sense if you know that her mother was a model and probably trained Sarah to have great posture, too.”

“Guess so.” He spread his napkin over his lap. “Thanks for feeding me.”

“You’re welcome, but Lily deserves the credit. I don’t like to cook, so she made a special effort to leave food for me. Even though it’s vegetarian, which I don’t normally eat, Lily makes it really taste good. But you know that already because you’ve had dinner here before.” She grabbed her spoon. “And I’m babbling. Sorry.”