Shoreline Drive (10 page)

Why did being bad always feel so good?

Chapter Seven

Ben stood outside the stall and studied the stallion, rage prickling like a cold sweat at his hairline.

The horse’s ragged coat was the color of bitter cocoa, and his black mane and tail were snarled into knots that hadn’t felt the touch of a comb in quite some time. There were other warning signs: the horse’s hide was scored with a number of small nicks and Ben could count his ribs with every heaving breath. The prominent ridges of his spine and hip bones made Ben grit his teeth against the suicidal urge to rush into the stall and examine the animal with no further delay.

But the whites of the stallion’s eyes showed as he tracked Ben’s every movement, muscles shuddering with tension and nostrils flared to catch the scent of danger. And for a horse in this bad shape, the presence of any human beings undoubtedly equaled danger.

“Oh my God.” Merry, who’d gone straight to her mother’s office to check on Alex, walked up beside him and put her hand to her mouth as tears sprang to her eyes. Ben had to look away from her, he had to keep his cool.

Ice it down, Fairfax.

Ben ground his back teeth so hard, he felt like it would take a crowbar to pry his mouth open. So he kept quiet. There was nothing he could say to make Merry feel better, anyway.

This horse had been neglected and abused, over a long period of time. And until they both calmed down, there was no way Ben was going in that stall with him.

“Mom tried to tell me,” Merry whispered, “but I didn’t think it would be this … heartbreaking to see.”

That was enough to unlock Ben’s jaw. “What exactly did your mother say about this animal?” he demanded, distantly pleased with the coldness of the words.

Merry flinched as the horse kicked nervously at the stall door. She turned an accusing gaze on Ben. “This animal? What is there to say other than that he’s in pain. Get in there and do something about it!”

“The animal isn’t necessarily in pain,” Ben said, every word falling toneless and dispassionate from his mouth. “In any case, it’s likely he’s existed in this condition for some time now. A few more moments to allow him to calm down won’t hurt him.”

“Wow.” Merry shook her head. “Your sympathy is overwhelming, Doc.”

“Sympathy won’t get this animal treated,” he pointed out.

“I can’t believe you!” Merry put her hands on her hips and faced him down like an avenging angel. “How could anyone look at that poor horse and not be affected?”

If only,
Ben thought bleakly. Pushing aside the stupid, small part of him that wanted to feel hurt at Merry’s immediate assumption about his lack of empathy, Ben shook his head.

It didn’t matter—in fact, it was safer this way. If Merry thought he had no feelings, she’d never look deeper for them.

He filtered everything out of his voice but impatience. “Just tell me what Jo said.”

Merry pursed her lips, eyes flashing with reluctance. “She was on the phone with someone about getting supplies to reinforce the crossbeams on this stall, so I didn’t get much out of her. But she said the stallion will be staying here for a while—and I guess it belongs to a friend of hers?”

Ben perfectly understood the disbelief sharpening Merry’s tone. He’d never be able to call anyone who treated an animal this criminally a
friend
.

“That would be me.” The deep, gruff drawl came from behind them. Ben pivoted to face the stallion’s owner, fists clenching instinctively.

You can’t kill him,
Ben reminded himself through the red fog clouding his view of a big guy—taller than Ben by at least six inches—with light brown hair and a close-trimmed beard.

“Sam Brennan,” the lumberjack lookalike said, holding out a giant paw and flashing a smile that faded when Ben crossed his arms over his chest.

“You’re the owner of this horse?” Ben felt his upper lip curling into a snarl, and he couldn’t do a thing about it. So long, Ice Man.

Anger surged back to the surface, hot enough to boil his blood. Despite the fact a real fight between them would likely end with a broken nose for Ben, he was savagely tempted to haul off and punch this hulking stranger. So what if Sam Brennan was beefier than prime rib? Ben had grown up a nerdy kid with a knack for sarcasm and an inability to back down—he’d been in more than his share of fights.

Merry’s hand on his arm was the only thing that kept Ben from launching himself at this abusive horse owner. Her touch sent a wave of calm through Ben, allowing him to regain control of his runaway emotions.

Her stare was so intent, he could practically feel it boring into the side of his face, and when he met her gaze, the connection between them crackled with electricity. Then she stepped up to stand shoulder to shoulder with him, and Ben’s heart jumped into his throat.

“His name is Java,” Sam Brennan said, his brown eyes widening as he glanced from Ben’s snarl to Merry’s thundercloud of a frown. “And hey, whoa—it’s not what you’re thinking.”

“What I’m thinking,” Merry hissed, “is that you brought this poor, mistreated horse here for Ben to fix. And he’ll do it—but I will be damned if you ever get your hands on Java again.”

That’s my fiancée going toe to toe with a mountain man twice her size,
was all Ben could think for a long dazzled heartbeat, until Sam Brennan jolted him out of it by throwing his shaggy head back and shouting a big belly laugh up at the barn ceiling.

“Oh, I like you,” Brennan declared. “By God, you are your mother’s daughter. The younger one, right? Meredith.”

Ben couldn’t say he cared for the appreciative sweep of Brennan’s gaze over Merry’s soft, rounded curves and tumbled dark curls. Not that she was dressed for flirtation today, by any means—lately she’d traded the stretchy faux leather leggings she used to wear when he first met her for plain old jeans, and her black T-shirt was baggy and worn thin in spots. Ben was pretty sure that flaky patch on her shoulder was dried spit-up.

Sam Brennan didn’t seem put off by any of that, which only made Ben hate him more. He didn’t want to respect the guy for being able to see beneath Merry’s new-mother exhaustion to the beautiful woman even she’d forgotten existed.

Ben angled his body between Merry and Sam, partly to block the man’s view, and partly to keep Merry from being the one who lost her cool and jumped the giant.

“Good, y’all have met.” Jo hustled out of the office, her long strides eating up the ground, her face intent and serious. “And Benji, you can see why we called you. What a mess!”

“Don’t call me Benji,” Ben growled automatically, then frowned in confusion. “And we might have gotten a name or two into the conversation, but I could use an explanation and some background before I start my examination.”

Jo’s gaze flew to Sam Brennan, and something dark passed over her expression. Sam said nothing, however. Just crossed his muscle-corded arms over his massive chest and waited with an air of silent calm for whatever Jo was about to say.

“Mom, what is this guy doing here?” Merry asked. “The way that horse looks…”

“I know.” Jo leaned against the stall doorway, close enough to peek inside at the heaving, stamping stallion. “But that’s what Sam does. He finds horses that are being neglected and abused, and he rehabilitates them.”

That made more sense. Something pinged in Ben’s memory. Turning a considering stare on Mr. Mountain Man, he said, “Sam Brennan. You run the biggest horse-rescue operation in Cabell County.”

“I am.” Sam nodded, his mouth flattening under the shadow of his beard. “For now.”

“I’m familiar with your program. But don’t you have a large-animal vet on staff?” Ben demanded.

“Used to. She quit. That’s why I’m here. Java’s … a special case. I couldn’t trust him to just anyone—not that there are a lot of takers. Turns out most vets aren’t willing to work on a vicious, half-crazed stallion who put his last owner in the hospital.”

“Ben will do whatever it takes,” Merry said with incomprehensible faith. “But how did you know to bring him here? How do you know Mom?”

Sam shot Jo Ellen a sideways glance. “Well, Java isn’t the only reason I’m in town. My cousin Penny Little asked me to come down and spend a week with her son, Matt, while she’s off on her honeymoon.”

Jo Ellen cleared her throat. “That’s okay, Sam, no need to cover for me. I’ve mentioned you to Merry and her sister before.” She paused, her eyes focused on Merry’s face. “When I told you about how I got my start learning about therapeutic riding and equine-assisted therapy.”

Ben saw the moment the light bulb flared bright in Merry’s brain. “Sam! With the horse-rescue program! He helped you during rehab.”

Holding her head high and her gaze steady, Jo nodded. “That’s right. Sam’s the best—he’s one of the good guys, I promise you.”

That had Merry flushing faintly and offering Sam a sheepish smile. “Oh, geez. I’m sorry for the way I yelled at you, before.”

Sam shrugged. “No worries. I’ve had worse, believe me. Now Doc, what do you think? I can’t promise you’ll get out of this with no broken bones—Java is a wild and woolly one.”

Relieved to be called back to his main purpose, Ben allowed everything to drain from his consciousness except for the overriding need to figure out where the animal’s pain was coming from and how to make it stop.

“First, a little more context from you,” he said briskly, setting his medical kit on the large chest to the left of the stall door. “I understand you acquired the animal very recently, but tell me everything you know about the conditions he’s been kept in. The more complete a patient history I have, the more I’ll be able to focus my attention on the likely danger areas.”

Ben’s head was bent over his notebook, all his attention absorbed in organizing his notes and the questions he’d need to ask to be sure and get all the relevant details—so when Merry’s slender hand landed on his arm, he was startled. The wink of his grandmother’s diamond on her ring finger shot through him like an arrow made of heat and anticipation.

Gripping his elbow with surprising force, Merry tugged until Ben turned to face her. “Ben, wait. I have a bad feeling about this. It sounds really risky.”

“This is what I do,” he reminded her even as the concerned frown between her drawn brows warmed him down to his core. “That horse needs my help.”

“I know.” She flinched as Java punctuated her unhappy words with a ferocious snort and another slamming kick to the wall of the stall. “And I know you’ll do everything you can to help him. But surely there’s a procedure for this kind of thing—I mean, that poor horse is out of his mind with terror. Can’t you tranq him or something, just to make him be still?”

“I can’t risk a tranquilizer before I have a better idea of his general condition,” Ben told her, as gently as he could. She seemed honestly worried, which was a novel enough experience on its own to have Ben’s heart racing. “Plus, he’s clearly severely malnourished, which could affect the strength of whatever drugs I give him.”

Merry ducked her head, dropping her hand away from his arm. Ben immediately missed the pressure of her fingers. “I get it. It’s fine, do your thing.”

“I’ll be careful.” That was the most Ben felt he could safely promise, and it was enough to make Merry meet his eyes. Reading the lingering fear there, Ben risked a small, teasing smile. “Don’t worry—you’re not going to get rid of me that easily.”

Behind them, a short, sharp gasp reminded Ben that they were not, in fact, the only two people in the world—let alone the only two people in the Windy Corner stables. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw Jo Ellen’s eyes riveted to her daughter’s left hand.

Crap. The timing could be better, Ben knew. This was all happening a little more quickly than he’d anticipated.

“Ah,” said Sam Brennan, in his deep, even-tempered drawl. “Looks like congratulations are in order.”

“Merry?” asked Jo faintly. “What’s going on?”

*   *   *

When Merry was thirteen, she’d been caught shoplifting underwear from Victoria’s Secret. Facing her mother’s white, tense face across the barn corridor now, Merry felt exactly the way she had when she’d left that pink-and-red-striped dressing room with four bras bunched up under her shirt.

But this was different, she reminded herself forcefully. She wasn’t doing anything wrong here—she wasn’t acting out like a petulant brat, hoping down deep that the pinch-mouthed, disapproving saleslady would call her father and tell him exactly what Merry had done, and force him to come pick her up.

He’d been working that day, of course. It was long-suffering Ella who’d ridden the bus out to the mall and collected her delinquent baby sister from the bored security guard.

This time, Merry was prepared to stand on her own and defend her choices. But as Ben turned, too, and put his arm around her, Merry got that same shiver that had thrilled her earlier.

She wasn’t on her own in this.

“I’ve asked Merry to be my wife, and she agreed,” Ben announced. “Now, can we get back to the business at hand?”

“What? No,” Jo sputtered, her jaw going loose with shock. “Merry, is this true?”

The way her mother was looking at Ben’s enfolding arm made Merry hyperaware of the way it was draped over her shoulders like a warm, protective shield. Suddenly uncomfortable with the implied intimacy—this wasn’t exactly the way to keep Ben from getting any funny ideas about their wedding night!—Merry shrugged it off.

Ben frowned down at her, but she shook her head. “I don’t want to start this thing under any false pretenses. That’s no way to begin a marriage.”

Some unnamed emotion tightened the corners of his eyes, but he shrugged and went back to his notebook as if the outcome of this conversation couldn’t matter less to him. “Suit yourself. I’ve got work to do.”

Sam Brennan, who’d been watching this whole exchange with every evidence of interest, jammed his hands in his jeans pockets and sauntered over to lean against the barn wall by the tack box. “I swear, y’all are better than a soap opera. I’m waiting to find out you’re actually brother and sister or something.”