The Cowboy's Secret (Cowboys After Dark: Book 3) (4 page)

“Sorry about that,” he apologized.

“No apology necessary,” she smiled. “I was just watching Jiminy. If you don’t have any kind of english tack here, I have some with me if you want to use it. I was going to leave it in the barn at my new place, but it may as well be put to use. I think I might even have a saddle that will fit him in my car. What’s his breeding?”

“Holsteiner crossed with thoroughbred, or so I was told,” Clint replied, staring at her.
You have the greenest damn eyes I’ve ever seen, and those freckles across your nose…

“If you want, we could try it on him before I leave,”
and why are you staring at me like that?

“Yeah, let’s do that,” he agreed. “Would you be interested in gettin’ on him? He’s used to women ridin’ him I think.”
What kind of lame thing is that to say? You just don’t want her to leave.

“Absolutely,” she beamed, “in a heartbeat.”

“Well, great,” he said, unexpectedly feeling awkward and not sure why. “Let’s finish up and go on down. You’re sure?”

“You bet, but are you sure? I mean, you haven’t even seen me ride. I could be a sack of potatoes on the back of a horse.”

“Darlin’,” he grinned, leaning forward, “I just watched you walk up to a horse that would totally intimidate most anyone just because of his size, let alone how he’d been prancin’ and snortin’, you told me you’re rescuin’ race horse’s and trainin’ them up for dressage and show jumpin’, and you’re drivin’ around with a bunch of tack in your car. Am I sure, yep, I’m sure. Does that answer your question?”

“Okely dokely, then,” she laughed. “Point taken, and is that for riding, that big square paddock over there?”

“Yep, best footin’ money can buy. We water and drag it every day.”

“You’ve got your act together,” she remarked looking directly into his twinkling hazel eyes,
and you called me darlin’.

“Well, thanks,” he chuckled. “I’ve been doin’ this a long time. I hope I’ve figured out a few things over the years,”
and you called her darlin’.
“Let’s finish our lunch and go on down. I have an appointment in forty-five minutes, but that should give us enough time.”

“Sure it will, I have britches and boots in my car, I just need to change.”

“You travel with them?” he asked, raising his eyebrows.

“One never knows,” she smiled. “I’ve also rescued horses from backyards I happened to be passing.”

“No kiddin’, me too,” he grinned.

Twenty minutes later, dressed in her riding gear, Amelia was on her way to the round pen, and Clint was carrying a saddle and bridle she’d retrieved from the trunk of her car.

“That sits on my big warmblood. He’s got a high withers and flat back like Jiminy. I’m surprised Jiminy’s top line is so good,” she remarked.

“Yep, I noticed that too,” Clint nodded.

As Amelia approached the gate of the round pen she pulled another peppermint from her pocket, then picked up the halter that had been left hanging on a post. Entering slowly she held out her hand; the horse was on the opposite side, and immediately lifted his head and walked over to her.

“Damn if you haven’t made a friend already,” Clint remarked.
Make that two friends. I’d really like you to spend some time around here.

Careful boy.

Yeah, yeah, I know. Believe me, I know.

“It doesn’t take much, but I’m sure you know that,” she smiled. “I’m going to let you saddle him,” she said as the horse dropped his head so she could put the halter on. “You can reach his back better than I can.”

“How do you do your own horse?” Clint asked, gently placing the pad and saddle on the horse’s back.

“Carefully,” she laughed. “Mind you, I’ve had her about fifteen years.”

“Damn, fifteen years? That’s a long time,” he remarked, settling the saddle on to the horse’s back and reaching under his belly for the girth.

“Any animal I buy for myself is for keeps,” she said firmly.

“Okay, you wanna check that girth is tight enough while I bridle him up? You think this snaffle will be enough bit for you?”

“I’ll find out,” she smiled, “yep, it can go up another hole. This saddle fits him fine.”

Taking the reins from Clint she led the horse around for a few minutes, bonding with him, talking, rubbing his neck and moving in a circle. Clint leaned against the fence watching, his admiration growing, but while his head was attracted to her skill, his eyes kept dropping to her beautiful backside, her full, round cheeks clearly visible in the tight fit of her riding britches.

“Could you give me a leg up?” she asked walking over to him. “I’d like to ride him for a few minutes in here before we head down to the ring.”

“I was gonna suggest that if you hadn’t,” he nodded.

Lifting the flap of the saddle she pulled the girth tighter by one hole on each side, then gripping the reins in one hand she bent her knee, holding her foot out behind her so Clint could hoist her up. Bending down and placing his hands around her shin, his face was close to her glorious bottom, and he swallowed hard, willing away the faint stirring in his cock.

“On three,” she announced.

“Yep,” he said, grateful for the diversion. “One, two, three!”

She jumped as he lifted, and swinging her leg across the horse’s back she landed gently in the saddle.

“How’s the weather up there,” he chuckled.

“Fine, slight breeze from the South,” she laughed, and gathering up the reins she closed her legs against the horse’s side asking him to move.

Jiminy, immediately recognizing the soft hands and strong legs of a competent jockey, dropped his head as he strode forward, and as she rode him around the pen her smile grew.

“This horse is an absolute dream,” she proclaimed. “I have to buy him. Please tell your friend you’ve found him a home.”

“You’ve only walked him,” Clint protested.

“I already feel the connection. It’s one of those things, and you know exactly what I’m talking about,” she replied firmly.

“Yeah, I do,” he nodded,
and that feelin’ doesn’t just happen with horses,
“but let’s wait a bit. An eager buyer gets screwed,” he warned.

“You’re right,” she exclaimed, “but I definitely want to take him down to the arena. Let me just feel his trot.”

She closed her leg against his side and the horse eased into the trot. As she began to post she asked for more speed and he responded instantly. A few trips around the edges of the pen and she pulled him to a stop next to Clint.

“You look real good up there,” he declared.

“I feel real good. I said it before and I’ll say it again, this horse is a dream. Let’s go to the ring. Do you have the time?”

Clint glanced at his watch. Grant Miller was bringing his sister Yvette over for a quick visit to The Woodshed, and he only had about twenty minutes before they arrived.

Screw it. This is more important. They can wait if they have to. Might do the girl some good if she has to sit and worry for a while.

“Yep, let’s do it,” he nodded, and walked ahead to open the gate.

The trip down proved what a solid horse Jiminy was. As they moved past one of the paddocks several of the horses began to gallop around, kicking up their heels, but Jiminy paid them no heed.

“You don’t have any poles here I would guess?” she grinned as she entered the ring.

“Not yet, is the answer to that question, but I’ll see what I can do,” he promised. “Not sure if it’ll be next time you ride him though, it might take me a while.”

Next time? Next time?

Shut up. I can have a female friend.

No, you can’t, and you know it.

“Next time?” she grinned, as if repeating his thoughts. “I can come back and ride him again?”

“Well, sure, I doubt any of us guys can ride him like you do. You’ll be doin’ everyone a favor.”

“Oh, my gosh, that’s fantastic. Thanks.”

As he leaned against the rail and watched her trot the horse around, then start to canter, he sighed heavily.

He needs this kind of rider. This is a good thing. I’m doin’ right by Matt and right by the horse.

But even as the thought crossed his mind, he knew his motivation to have her return was more than that, much more.

C
lint became so engrossed watching Amelia put Jiminy through his paces he was startled when he heard a car moving up the driveway; checking his watch he couldn’t believe how much time had passed.

“I’m real sorry,” he called across the ring. “My appointment’s arrived. I have to go.”

Trotting over to him Amelia stopped the horse and leaned across his neck.

“I could ride this guy forever,” she beamed. “Thanks so much. Should I just put him back in the round pen? I’d like to groom him before I leave.”

“Why don’t you untack him in the round pen, let him have a roll, and tell Mitch or Zane you’d like to clean him up. They can show you where everything is, and where you can leave your saddle if you’d like to.”

“Yes, I would, thanks, and thanks for lunch, thanks for everything,” she sighed. “This has been an unexpectedly wonderful afternoon.”

“You’re welcome,” he grinned. “Gotta run, oh, and, uh, why don’t you call me and leave me your number. Train And Trail Horse Farm. I’m listed.”

“Sure,” she nodded.

He stroked the horse on the neck before hurrying away, and as she watched him march up the hill she thought he was one of the most truly interesting men she’d had the pleasure of meeting.

“What is it about him, Jiminy?” she whispered to the horse. “Is it his confidence? He’s guarded, mysterious somehow. Can’t quite figure it out. Come on, let’s walk you out a bit.”

The horse ambled forward as she let the reins fall loose in her hands, and looking up towards his home she saw him walking towards the guest house where his visitors were waiting.

You’re a cowboy with a secret, that’s what it is. You’ve got a secret.

Once inside The Woodshed, standing next in his spanking chair, studying the nervous young woman before him, Clint was doing his best to shake away his thoughts of Amelia down in his riding ring. Though he didn’t want to be he was attracted to her, there was no denying it; not only was she a skilled horse person, she was bright and bubbly, with sparkling eyes, and smart, so dang smart, with a sassy mouth and-

“So here we are. I was kinda shocked when the judge said what he did, but when I called dad he had to agree with him,” Grant finished.

Clint had only heard smatterings of what the young man had said, and frowned as he tried to recall the words.

Something about the judge saying she needed a good spanking.

“Did the judge order it, or was it a suggestion?” Clint asked.

“Like I said, after he imposed the fine and suspended her license for six months, he said, ‘what you need is a good spanking, young lady.’ The fine she’ll have to pay out of her own money, but the suspended license is a big pain in the butt for me and dad. We’ll have to drive her back and forth to work every damn day.”

“I see,” Clint nodded. “Well, seems to me if it’s a pain in the butt for you two, it should definitely be a pain in the butt for her, wouldn’t you say, Yvette?”

“Yes, Sir,” she whimpered.

“Hah!” her brother scoffed. “This is how she is. She’s all polite and respectful when she’s in trouble, but then she turns around and does what she likes. She’s a manipulative cow, that’s what she is.”

“Would you say that’s accurate, Yvette? Tell me the truth,” he said sternly.

“Kind of,” she said quietly.

“Speedin’ isn’t just about you, it’s about the little girl you might run over, or the people in the other car you might hit. Don’t you get that?”

“Yes, Sir,” she mumbled.

“Repeat it, then ask me to spank you, and spank you hard.”

“Whhaat?” she exclaimed, lifting her eyes from the floor and staring at him.

“You heard me, and for every second that you stand there stalling, you’ll get an extra swat, so take as much time as you like,” he proclaimed, dropping his eyes to his watch. “One, two-”

“Speeding is bad because I might hurt other people,” she blurted out. “Please will you spank me, uh, hard.”

“That last part wasn’t convincin’,” he frowned. “Why do you want me to spank you hard?”

“Ooooh,” she moaned. “I want you to spank me hard because I speed all the time, and get tickets…”

“And I wanna stop doin’ that; say it,” Clint ordered.

“And I want to stop doing that,” she parroted.

“Do you think a good spankin’ will be effective?” he asked.

“I, uh, I…”

Her voice had grown shaky, and he knew a hundred responses were swirling through her head, but he could feel her defiance waning, and perhaps, just perhaps, the scolding was having the impact he wanted.

“You what?” he pressed, leaning forward.

“I, uh, think it might,” she whispered.

“I think that’s about the most honest thing you’ve said in a while, right?” he inquired, leaning back.

“Yes, Sir,” she mumbled.

“Hmmm, I think the arm of the couch for you,” he declared, and taking her by the elbow he walked her to the sofa on the opposite side of the room.

“Do you mind if I wait outside,” Grant asked. “I don’t know why, but I feel a bit weird watchin’ this.”

“If you’d prefer,” Clint replied.

Grant nodded, and walking out the door, settled into the chair on the porch.

As the door closed, Clint ordered the girl to bend over the wide, padded arm of the couch.

“You were in court this mornin’?” he asked, walking to the oak buffet to pick up the paddle he intended to use.

“Yes, Sir,” she quaked, horrified at her predicament.

“And you came straight here?”

“Just stopped for a coffee first,” she answered as she bent over the arm of the sofa. “You couldn’t see us right away.”

“Yes, this is true,” he murmured absently, and picking up the round leather paddle he walked back to her, stopping to pick up the clipboard with the written agreement.

“How many speedin’ tickets in total?” he asked sternly, handing her the clip board and pen. “Sign at the bottom”

“Four,” she whimpered, picking up the pen and scrawling her signature without hesitation.