My Favorite Mistake Page 13

  “There’s a convenience store up ahead,” he said. “By my estimation, we’re halfway there. Want to stretch our legs?”

  I nodded, grateful for a break. From both the confines of the truck, and our discussion.

  Redford pulled up next to the gas pump—I couldn’t imagine how much gasoline it took to keep the monster truck running. When I alighted, I noticed the sky was indeed growing cloudy and gray, which wasn’t uncommon for February, but unsettling nonetheless. I glanced at my watch and decided to wait until we were closer to call Kenzie, especially since I couldn’t get a signal on my phone here.

  After I exited the ladies’ room, I pulled a bottle of water from a wall cooler and walked up to the counter where Redford had engaged the rotund clerk in a conversation about—as near as I could tell—fishing lures. The man could befriend anyone.

  “I’ll get that,” Redford said, taking my water. I acquiesced, knowing it wouldn’t do any good to argue, then walked outside to get as much fresh air as possible before we set off again.

  I dragged the cool air into my lungs slowly, mulling over Redford’s “gratitude” to me for having our marriage annulled. His admission, coupled with the knowledge that he had lived so close to me after he returned to the States, was—I had to concede—bruising my ego.

  My chest ached with unexpected grief, and tears gathered on my lashes. (I never cried…ever.) My ego was more than bruised. To be honest, I was crushed. Which was incredibly foolish and selfish of me, considering I was the one who had ended the marriage, and I was the one who was engaged to marry again.

  “Ready to hit the road?” Redford called behind me.

  I blinked like mad to dissipate the tears—thankful that I could blame runny eyes and a red nose on the weather, if necessary. But when I turned, the sight of Redford standing there looking so impossibly masculine in his jeans and boots and black hat was sobering enough to evaporate any tears—along with all the moisture in my mouth. Defeated, I headed back to the truck and hurdled into my seat.

  “You okay?” Redford asked when he fastened his seat belt.

  “I wish you would stop asking me that,” I snapped.

  He blinked, then a little smile came over his face. “I know what you want.”

  I closed my eyes, at my wits’ end with his innuendos and worse, with my Pavlovian responses. “Redford—” I stopped when I opened my eyes and saw what he had in his hand. A bag of peanut M&M’s.

  “These used to be your favorite.”

  I sighed. “They still are.”

  “Good.” He handed me the candy, then pulled two bottles of water from the small plastic bag.

  “You didn’t want a snack?” I asked, tearing open the candy.

  “I was hoping you’d share.”

  “No way,” I said, laughing.

  “Take them all,” he said as he started the engine. “The more you have in your mouth, the less you can talk about taxes.”

  I stuck my tongue out at him and he laughed as he pulled the truck back onto the road. Despite his teasing, he ate a few pieces of the candy, and I was struck again by the alternate ease and discomfort I felt when I was with Redford. It was like being on a roller coaster…in the first car with nothing to hold on to…except Redford himself.

  “Back to the taxes,” I said when the last piece had been washed down.

  “Please, no,” he begged. “Tell me about your friends, Kenzie and Sam.”

  A legitimate question…and an interesting story. “Kenzie works for Personality magazine. Sam was on the cover one month for the ‘small-town hero’ issue. He’s a veterinarian, and a part-time fireman in Jar Hollow, and he saved a lot of people in a nursing-home fire.”

  He pursed his mouth, nodding.

  “Anyway, they met when he went to the city to have his photo taken. Then she went to his place to do a follow-up article…and then there was the cover curse.”

  “Cover curse?”

  “It’s a long story, but basically Kenzie went to stay on his farm for a while and got into all kinds of predicaments, including almost burning down his clinic.”

  “Yikes.”

  “But Sam fell in love with her anyway.”

  “That’s a helluva guy.”

  “So, long story short, Sam teaches in the city a few days a week, and she works from their home up here a few days a week, so they’re together as much as possible.” I smirked. “I have to warn you, though—Sam and Kenzie are shmoops.”

  “Is that some kind of northern religion?”

  I laughed. “No. I mean, they smooch and look at each other like teenagers. And Kenzie talks about how much they—” I stopped and cleared my throat as Redford fought a smile. “Anyway, the girls and I call them shmoops.”

  “Okay, well I’ll try not to notice if their clothes start flying off.”

  “Now, back to the taxes…”

  He groaned. “Why don’t we save that for the drive home this evening?”

  “I won’t be able to read in the dark!”

  His white teeth flashed in a wide grin. “I know.”

  I sighed. “Okay, there isn’t much left anyway. For the most part, I…I just need to make sure that Tuesday morning we go in there—”

  “United,” he finished. “Got it. They will see one united couple, by golly. We’ll be so united, they’ll think we’re still married.”

  “Well,” I murmured, settling back in my seat, “we don’t have to take it that far.”

  I tried to call Kenzie several times on my cell phone, but couldn’t get a signal, and then when I did, my battery was dead. But Sam’s directions were good and, after passing through the adorably quaint town of Jar Hollow, (I saw some of the businesses that Kenzie had mentioned to me—the Cut and Curl, Jamison Hardware Store), and driving up a steep hill, we pulled into a clearing that gave way to a plateau with a picturesque view that would be stunning in the spring. I could see why Kenzie would have been enchanted.

  From her description, I recognized a smaller log building, which would be the clinic, to the right of where we sat; and the larger building, the log home that Sam had built himself, to the left. It was spectacular.

  “Nice,” Redford murmured. He nodded toward the two vehicles—Sam’s truck and Kenzie’s car. “Looks like they’re home.”

  I opened the door and climbed down. “They probably heard us pull up.”

  Redford put on his hat and together we walked to the front of the cabin. The picture-perfect landscaping was undoubtedly Kenzie’s handiwork. I rang the doorbell and from inside, a horrific noise erupted—like a dog pound on the night of a full moon.

  “That would be their pets,” I explained.

  “Good watchdogs,” Redford said.

  When a few seconds passed and no one came to the door, I said, “Maybe they’re at the clinic.”

  “Or maybe they’re…you know.” Redford’s eyebrows wagged suggestively.

  I smirked. “I forgot to tell you that Kenzie’s pregnant.”

  He laughed. “Big surprise.”

  “I mean, she said that lately she hasn’t been in the mood to…you know.”

  The door suddenly swung open with Sam telling the dogs to be quiet. He looked flushed and his hair was ruffled. “Hi, Denise, hi, Redford. Welcome to our home.” He laughed. “Our noisy home.”

  I said hello and the men shook hands. Tingling with embarrassment, I stepped inside the beautifully decorated log cabin. From the looks of Sam, we had definitely arrived in the middle of…something.

  Kenzie appeared from a hall, barefoot and running. “Denise! It’s so good to see you!”

  We hugged. “You, too…new mama. Er, I tried to call, but my battery died.”

  “Oh, that’s okay, we were just…cleaning. So that’s Redford?” she whispered in my ear. “Yowsa. He looks like that and he has a big—”

  “Kenzie—” I cut in, my voice a warning. “I’m an engaged woman.”

  “Don’t worry,” she said out of the corner of her mo
uth. “I won’t say anything…suggestive. And Sam and I will be on our best behavior all afternoon.”

  “Good,” I said. “By the way…your blouse is on backward.”

  “Great news, Kenzie,” Sam said from the doorway. “Redford has a double-cab pickup—there’s room for you and Denise to ride along.”

  Kenzie clapped her hands, then looked at me. “Oh, Denise, is that okay? I thought we’d stay here, but there’s a pony at Valla Farms that Sam and I want to look at.”

  I stared at her. Kenzie Mansfield used to be the most cosmopolitan woman I knew and now she stood barefoot and pregnant in a log cabin, talking about ponies? What had happened to the woman I knew?

  She’d fallen in love with a man and lost herself.

  “I don’t like horses,” I murmured.

  “Are you up for it?” Redford asked, his eyebrows raised in question. He held his hat in his hands and—Good grief, he was so…appealing.

  “Come on,” Kenzie urged in my ear. “It’ll be fun.” Then she winked. “Besides, horses can be kind of sexy.”

  Great. Just…great.

  15

  “RELAX,” REDFORD URGED.

  Easier said than done, considering I was astride a mammoth creature capable of tossing me off like a rag doll and trampling me beneath its razor-sharp hooves. Worse, Redford sat behind me on the beast, thigh to thigh, his arms loosely around mine, demonstrating the proper position for holding the reins.

  I could barely breathe, but I murmured, “I’m relaxed,” over my shoulder.

  “Your back is a ramrod, and your arms are like rebar.”

  “I don’t know what that is.”

  “Trust me, it’s stiff.”

  His sexy voice rumbling in my ear wasn’t helping matters. Plus I felt like an idiot wannabe, wearing my riveted jeans, embroidered shirt, horse sweater, and suede fringe jacket. Kenzie had loaned me a pair of her Doc Martens—they were snug, but had weathered the random piles of horse poo that littered the stable floor. However, there was no piece of equipment that could stem the pungent odor of horseflesh…ugh—it was an acquired smell, at best.

  But the owners of Valla Farms had been accommodating…while they prepared the stud that Redford was interested in, he had asked to saddle one of their trail horses to help me, he said, to get over my fear of horses. I had been reluctant (a slight understatement), until I started feeling like a sissy as Kenzie and Sam had pleaded with me to give it a try. I had acquiesced, frankly, to get it over with.

  Now, as I was being jolted around on the saddle atop “Reggie,” I was regretting my weakness. Sissies got the last laugh—they lived longer.

  “The horse can sense your fear,” Redford said into my ear. “Loosen up—try to get in synch with the animal, to anticipate its movement. It’s not unlike making love.”

  I jerked my head around. “You’re not helping.”

  He chuckled in my ear. “Okay, I’ll be quiet.”

  As we walked in a circle, I tried to do what Redford said, to loosen my muscles and my joints, to sway with the horse, not against it.

  “That’s good,” he murmured.

  “I feel like I could fall off.”

  “Use your thighs and knees to hang on.”

  His unspoken words “not unlike making love” hung in the air.

  “Besides, I’m not going to let you fall.”

  But when I pressed my knees into Reggie, he startled and picked up speed.

  “What did I do?” I cried.

  “Maintain even pressure with your knees—when you squeeze, he thinks you want him to speed up.”

  Not unlike making love. With Redford’s chest pressed up against my back and being cocooned in his arms, my imagination—and memory—didn’t have far to leap to make the connection.

  “By the way, I like your sweater,” he said. “Looks familiar.”

  I decided not to answer. Explaining that I’d been on the verge of giving it away seemed too complicated. But knowing that he remembered the sweater put a warm feeling in my stomach…and lower.

  I forced myself to concentrate on the efficiency of the horse’s movements, and Redford’s. Soon I was rocking rhythmically in the saddle, pleased to be getting the hang of it…until I became aware of something else entirely. Where the saddle rose up in front of me, it was applying pressure to my womanly regions…And the more relaxed I became, the more the pressure hit…home. Panicked, I glanced from side to side. Was this normal?

  “That’s it,” Redford murmured in my ear. “Now you’re getting the hang of it.”

  Indeed. It was like dancing—my shoulders flowing, my hips rocking. I was at the perfect angle to be stroked by the hard leather saddle with every stride, and I could feel myself growing warm and moist. Being sandwiched between Redford’s muscular body and the powerful horse was one of the most erotic things I’d ever experienced. With a start, I realized that if I didn’t stop, the inevitable would happen. And if I had an orgasm right here and now, I’d have to throw myself under the horse to be trampled because I’d never be able to face Redford or my friends—or anyone—again.

  “I’m ready to stop,” I said suddenly.

  Something in my voice must have convinced him not to argue because he said, “Okay. Gently pull back on the reins, and say, ‘whoa.’”

  I did, and to my amazement, the horse stopped.

  “See, not so hard,” Redford said, sliding down first. Then he talked me through dismounting properly, and quickly, so the horse wouldn’t move. When my second foot landed—in squishy poo—I felt a little unsteady, not to mention light-headed, from using dormant muscles and from my secret little sensual experience. Redford steadied me with his hand and gave me a wink. “You’re a natural.”

  Despite the cold, my cheeks felt warm from his praise. I was exhilarated, flush with accomplishment…and heightened physical awareness. “Liar. But thank you, Redford. It was…fun.”

  “Good,” he said, his dark eyes sincere. “I’m glad I could introduce you to a new experience.”

  I realized that every time I was with Redford, he introduced me to new things—things I wouldn’t have done on my own—and wound up liking. I couldn’t look away from his gaze, and felt a new, sizzling connection with him. My sensitized areas tingled and I was at a loss for words.

  A man entered the stable yard and told Redford they were ready in the broodmare barn. (From my reading, I knew that was a place where the girl horses stayed until they were ready to…you know.) Redford handed off the horse we’d been riding to the man and the four of us walked to the long, narrow building the man indicated.

  There the scent of horseflesh was overpowering. The barn was lined on both sides with unbelievably nice stables, each door adorned with a brass plate with the occupant’s name on it. The horses themselves weren’t visible, but we could hear them moving around and occasionally neighing.

  A man who identified himself as the foreman shook our hands and welcomed us to Valla Farms. “Mr. DeMoss, I understand you’re here to find a teaser stud to take back to Kentucky.”

  “That’s right,” Redford said with a nod.

  “We have a horse I think you’re going to like. His name is Henry—he’s part draft horse.”

  “Sounds good,” Redford said. “I’d like to see him in action.”

  “I’ll bring him in now, sir.”

  The foreman moved away from us and I asked Redford, “The stud isn’t a Thoroughbred?”

  “No. I’m looking for a teaser stud, not a stallion. Thoroughbreds don’t make good teasers—they’re too high-strung.”

  I frowned. “What’s a ‘teaser’ stud?”

  He nodded toward the big gray horse being led in. “You’ll see.”

  “Henry” was neighing—squealing really, lifting his big head as if he were calling out to the horses in the stalls. The foreman checked a clipboard, then pointed to the first stall. The man leading Henry opened the stall door, then stood back as Henry stuck his head in.

  Bla
m! I jumped as the mare delivered a swift kick with her rear hoof that zoomed past Henry’s head and landed against the stall door. Henry seemed to take the reaction in stride as he backed away and waited patiently as the handler closed the door, moved down two stalls and opened another one. Again Henry stuck his head in, sniffing the air, emitting a low squeal. The mare inside, after a bit of stamping and shuffling, lifted her tail and urinated. A bit gross from my perspective, but Henry seemed satisfied and retreated. The foreman made notes on his clipboard and directed the handler where to take him next.

  Henry made his way down the stable row, sticking his head in and dodging powerful kicks when necessary, or neighing and rearing his head when a mare backed up to him and flipped her tail.

  I wasn’t an expert, but I took a wild guess that tail-flipping was a signal that she wouldn’t mind being mounted. Except instead of obliging, Henry would whinny and back out, moving on to the next mare.

  “A teaser stud,” Redford said in my ear, “gets the mare excited so when the high-strung and high-dollar Thoroughbred stallion struts in, she’ll be ready.”

  The analogy wasn’t lost on me. A hot flush bloomed on my chest and scalded my neck. Since Redford’s arrival Friday, I’d been in a near-constant state of arousal. He was intimating that he was getting me worked up, and Barry would get the benefit. Knowing that Redford knew he was getting to me only made me more uncomfortable…and more aroused. I couldn’t look at him, didn’t trust my reaction. But I realized with dismay that the sex life of animals and the sex life of humans was more alike than different—both were complicated.

  By the end of the exercise, Henry was…stirred up, giving me my first look at a stallion’s penis. (I could strike that item from my life list.) I was duly impressed…and a little fearful for the mares. Henry must have known he wasn’t getting any action today, though, because he lost his erection as soon as the last stable door closed. Redford asked the foreman more questions about the stud while he patted down the horse. Sam also looked the horse over, checking teeth, eyes and hooves, and removing a stethoscope to listen to the horse’s organs.