Sweet Talking Cowboy (6 page)

Briann’s night was long and restless, but she was at the
barn that housed her horses early the next morning, getting both of them ready
for the long day that lay ahead.

The bay gelding did very well in his halter class, taking a
second, but the sorrel filly seemed to be off her game, and just was not as responsive
as she usually was to Briann’s cues.  She seemed heavy in her movements and reactions
and Briann put her away feeling disappointed with their performance.  She had been
excused from the arena without a ribbon and that was not acceptable.  She could
never be the trainer she wanted to be when the horse she was showing didn’t
have enough sparkle to keep the judges looking.

Taking herself away from the pressure for a little while,
Briann sat on the bleachers and watched the stallion halter classes, allowing
her mind to imagine what it would be like to have a top quality stallion to
exhibit.  She didn’t always agree with the judge’s decision but today’s judge
had done a wonderful job, picking a young stallion that was equal to all the
older horses, but still developing.  He was already outstanding, but someday,
he’d be competing on a national level.

When the class ended, she walked back through the barn,
looking at the horses in each stall, trying to locate any of the horses from
the Butler Farm.  She didn’t see even one.  That was unusual.  If Slade hadn’t
brought any horses to show, why was he here?

Eventually her steps brought her back to the two horses she
had brought.  She stopped in front of the filly’s stall, wondering again just
what had taken her edge off.  Yesterday, the animal had positively glowed but
now she was standing in the corner of her stall quietly munching her hay,
paying no attention to the activity in the barn.  She just wasn’t right.

Briann felt Slade’s eyes on her the minute he entered the
barn and she turned to watch him approach.  He’d cleaned up nicely, from this
distance showing no signs of the hangover she’d expected.  Just watching him
walking toward her was enough to start her heart racing.  A grin spread his
lips as he drew close and when he stopped in front of her, she could see the
tiny vessels in his pale eyes were swollen with blood.  Not tremendously, but
more than normal.

“Hey.  How’d you do this mornin’?” he asked, indicating the
horses.

“The bay took a second out of a class of twenty three, but
the filly is off.  How’re you feeling this morning?”  She couldn’t help
wondering just how much he might remember about last night.  Probably nothing,
she reminded her racing heart.

His grin widened sheepishly, but his eyes held hers. 
“Actually I’m pretty fuzzy.  Did I call you to come get me last night, or did I
just imagine that?”

She turned back to look at the sorrel horse, deciding that
was safer than looking into those steady, blue eyes.  “The bartender called
me.”

He nodded.  “Thanks.”

Now he was wondering if all his fuzzy memories were true or
if he’d dreamed up part of them.  He wasn’t sure how to ask.  After a long
moment he finally spoke.  “What was I drinkin’?”

She shrugged.  “I couldn’t tell you.  Something kinda amber colored,
in a short glass.  Why?”

He looked at the small furrows between her brows, knitted
with concern.  He grinned that same sheepish smile again.  “I think I should
buy a bottle and take it home with me.  I had a real interestin’ dream.”

Briann looked away quickly, but not before Slade saw the
faint flush that tinted her face pink.  Then he knew he hadn’t dreamed it.

“Maybe I owe you an apology?”  He said softly, still
wondering if his alcohol induced memory had made him imagine the warmth of her
response.

She looked down at her hands, and then forced her eyes up to
meet his.

“You don’t owe me an apology, Slade,” she confessed her face
burning under his intense scrutiny.  Then she pulled her eyes away and focused
on the filly in the stall.

When she looked away, he worried about what he didn’t
remember.  Had it been more than a kiss?  “Maybe you need to tell me exactly
what happened?”  His voice was soft, but she heard the concern in it.

“It doesn’t matter.  It wasn’t anything…much,” she managed. 
This was so embarrassing, she thought silently.  She wondered how much he did
remember.

One of his hands shot out and gripped her arm.  “Did I hurt
you, Bri?” he demanded.

Her heart was almost spazzing out of her chest, but she
shook her head negatively.  “No.”

“Did I do more than kiss you?”  If that much of the dream
was real, perhaps the rest was real too.

She hesitated.  How could she admit she’d let him get his
hand under her shirt, on her bare breast, or how much she’d liked it.

He swore softly.  “Damn, Bri, I’m so sorry.”

When she lifted her eyes and looked at him she saw the guilt
in his expression.  It broke her heart.  “You didn’t do anything I didn’t want
you to do, Slade,” she confessed quickly.

He searched her face.  “Are you sure?”

Briann nodded.  “I was surprised.”

“By the way I kissed you?” he probed.

Again she nodded.  “And the way it made me feel.”

He hesitated before he continued, not sure he wanted to hear
if she was repelled by his actions.

Finally he asked.  “How, Bri?  How did it make you feel?”

She shook her head negatively.  “Just let it go, Slade. 
Just forget it happened.  Let’s just be like we’ve always been.”

His head moved slowly from side to side.  “That can’t
happen, sugar.  I kissed you the way a man kisses a woman he wants.  I remember
that much.  I think you kissed me back, but I need to know.  Did you, Bri?  Did
you like my kiss enough to kiss me back?”

Slowly she raised her eyes to meet his and then shyly, she
nodded.  “I’ve never…been kissed…like that.  It made me….feel…things.”  She
dropped her head and turned away.

Silence stretched between them until she opened the stall
door and went inside.  Bending over, she lifted the horse’s front foot and
working a coin out of her pocket, used it to clean out the crevice around the V
shaped ‘frog’ that protrudes from the center and back of the hoof and cushions
the footfall to protect the delicate bones in the equine leg.

“What’s wrong,” Slade asked, moving into the stall, stopping
in front of where she was bent over the animal’s hoof.  Taking his pocket knife
from his pocket he opened it and handed it to her.

Briann took the knife from his hand and hoped he couldn’t
see how just being this close had caused her heart rate to increase
dramatically.

She used the point of the knife to scrape the manure and
shavings out of the crevices in the oval shaped hoof.  “I dunno.  There was
something in the way she shifted her weight just now that looked like she might
be uncomfortable on this foot, but I don’t see anything.”  Handing the knife
back to him, her strong fingers pressed on the bottom of the hoof and around
the sides, looking for any sign of soreness from the horse, but the animal
ignored her actions.

Slade closed the knife then returned it to his front pocket
before her leaned over to look.

Briann was bent over the foot, her back to the front of the
horse her braid hanging down in front of one shoulder and Slade was now bending
over, his back to the rear of the filly, their heads separated by scant inches
as they each studied the foot, trying to detect any small injury.  Then Slade
with one finger indicated a place just above the bulb of the heel, almost
covered by her hand.

“Look at that.  Is it a cut?”  His finger nudged her hand
back as they both lowered their heads for a closer look.  His cap fell off as
they bumped heads, then each turned to look at the other.  His eyes moved
quickly from her eyes to her mouth, remembering the sweetness of her kisses the
night before.  Without straightening up, without thinking, he captured her
braid in one hand, holding her head steady when he leaned toward her.  “Bri,”
he whispered softly as his lips touched hers.

Their heads were nose to chin, but it did nothing to curb to
fire that ignited as his lips touched hers.  She slowly released the horse’s
foot and without allowing the kiss to end, they stood up.  He folded her in his
arms and kissed her long and deep, reveling in her eager response.

He wasn’t drunk or dreaming and she was in his arms,
returning his kiss with a fire that took them both by surprise.

“Hey,” came a good natured yell from someone passing the
stall, “Get a room.  This barn is G rated.”

Awkwardly they ended the kiss and stepped apart.  It had
happened in the cold light of day, with at least one witness, so there was no
way to deny it or pretend it hadn’t happened.  They just stood there for a long
uncomfortable minute looking at each other, neither knowing what to say, then
Slade bent, retrieved his cap and extended one large hand and took one of hers.

When he spoke, there was a roughness in his voice that
caused her skin to tingle.  “Did you see that place I was trying to show you?”

Grateful for something else to occupy her mind, she nodded. 
“It was so small.  Do you think something like that would make her feel so
bad?”  She was surprised at how normal her voice sounded.  It certainly didn’t
reflect what was going on inside of her at the moment.

He shrugged.  “If it’s getting’ sore, it might be just
enough to keep her from focusin’ on you.”

“I guess I’d better get some Corona to put on it.  Maybe
it’ll feel better then, before I have to ride her this afternoon.”  She started
to move past him, but one of his arms stretched across her waist to fasten at
her hip.  He turned her to face him and slowly dropped his head for a quick
kiss, his other hand slipping up to cradle the back of her head.

“You’ll just have to get used to this.”  He whispered, still
holding her face close to his.  “It’ll probably happen a lot.  You just taste
so damn good.”

He released her and his eyes followed her as she went to the
tack box in front of the stall and lifted the lid.  She rummaged around for a
minute and then returned with the yellow, red and black tube of salve.

Slade lifted the filly’s leg and held it while Briann
applied a generous glob of the thick yellow salve to the tiny cut, making sure
she got some of it into the split.  Being careful not to look at Slade, she
stood up and watched as he gently lowered the animals hoof into the shavings
that covered the floor of the stall. Then he stood up as well.

“Have you had lunch?”  He asked, looking at his watch.

She shook her head negatively.  “No.”

“That’s part of why I came lookin’ for you, this mornin’,”
Slade started.  “I have to meet a man in a few minutes for lunch and would love
for you to come with me.  I think you’ll enjoy goin’.”

She looked down at the pants and shirt she’d changed into
after the halter class.  “I’m not sure I’ll make much of an impression.”

“You are perfect,” he said, his eyes openly appraising her
body clad in snug Wranglers and a tan tee-shirt.  He lifted his hand and
caressed her cheek slowly.

She smiled at him and hoped he couldn’t see how his touch
made her heart go crazy, but then his hand dropped down to her neck and the
back of one finger traced the pulse point in her throat knowingly.

They had lunch with a celebrated country music singer who
was interested in sending a horse to Slade for some training.  He’d raised the
gelding from a foal with the hope of someday roping off him, but the trainer
who’d started the colt for him had run into a problem getting the horse accustomed
to a rope.  The problem had grown until now, anyone moving a rope around the
colt could set him off and he transformed into a bucking machine.

Briann was impressed with the singer’s knowledge of horse
handling and his determination to give his horse every chance to be a better
animal.

“I heard you’d worked with Cooper Harding and everyone knows
he’s the best,” the singer said.

“He
is
the best,” Slade agreed, “so why didn’t you
take the horse to him?”

The singer chuckled.  “Actually, I did talk to him and he
suggested you.  He’s not taking in anymore outside horses.  Just those he
raises himself.”

Slade nodded.  “He said that was what he was gonna do.  I
guarantee he’ll get mega money for those horses and won’t have to deal with
problems created by other people.”

After more discussion, the singer gave Slade his card and
promised that his horse would be shipped to Butler Farm as soon as possible.

Slade was right; Briann did enjoy having lunch with them. 
As they left the restaurant where they had eaten in a reserved back room away
from adoring country music fans, she couldn’t help thinking that in spite of
his wealth and fame, the man was very down to earth and only wanted to live a
normal life, doing the things he liked, being with people who enjoyed the same
things he enjoyed.

The filly won her class that afternoon and the colt again
took a second place.  Briann was proud of them both.

Back at the barn, she began the chore of getting her stuff
together so it wouldn’t take her long to get loaded.  Luckily her classes had
finished fairly early so if she pushed it and drove steady, she could be home
before Uncle Mike and Aunt Poog went to bed.  That was what she planned to do.

As she moved around, gathering up her brushes and buckets,
Slade just watched for a while, and then he stepped in front of her, bringing a
halt to her packing.

“Are you goin’ home tonight?”

Looking up at him, she hesitated.  “Aunt Poog and Uncle Mike
are expecting me.”

He gently stroked the back of one hand against one of her
cheeks.  When he spoke, he voice was coarse and low.  “I’ll call them for
you.”  He caressed her lips with his thumb.  “Stay with me.”

“You aren’t going home?” she asked, nipping the thumb that
toyed at her lips.