Total pages in book: 36
Estimated words: 32995 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 165(@200wpm)___ 132(@250wpm)___ 110(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 32995 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 165(@200wpm)___ 132(@250wpm)___ 110(@300wpm)
“Hurry toward the other exit of the stable. I’ll find you later,” he whispers in my ear.
I nod weakly and fumble to button my pants back before going to the gate of the stall. Peering out, Anders has already made it out the main entrance of the stable. Jogging toward the other exit, I quickly withdraw my phone to answer it, “Blue Hen Stables, this is Luce.”
“Are you still at the club? I need you to come work with me with that damned foal. No matter how quiet or casually I approach it…approach him, he is scared of me.”
“I am, I went for a walk,” I blurt out, my breathing a bit labored as I finally get out of the rear exit of the stable. “I’m actually approaching the stables now. I’ll be right there.”
He hangs up without saying another word. Walking alongside the building, I run a hand through my hair and try to collect myself. Fooling around with Rupert almost doesn’t feel real at this point, but my body reminds me that it was. I’m still flustered, wet, and horny. How in the hell am I supposed to play businesswoman when I feel like this? When all I can think about is getting down and dirty with Rupert?
I shove the thoughts and feelings into the pit of my stomach. They’ll still be there after a short and annoying session with Josh Anders, I’m sure. Really, there isn’t anything more I can do for him. He needs to just accept that it’s going to take time for the foal to warm up to him.
Anders is waiting for me at the entrance of the stable, his arms folded and a scowl on his face. Admittedly, he’s handsome with short cropped dark brown hair, chocolate eyes, sharp jaw, and thick brows. But he radiates the energy of a massive douchebag. There’s something about the way he talks, the way he carries himself, and the tone to his voice that declares he believes he’s entitled to everything he wants and won’t settle for anything but immediate service.
The man eyes me up and down. “I get it, you say it takes time. I just need you to prove to me that he’s not damaged goods.”
Damaged goods? The horse isn’t a can of beans or a refurbished television! I swallow my offense to his verbiage and try to brush it off. “How exactly do you want me to prove that to you?” I ask, crossing my arms to mimic his posture.
He nods toward a corral-like area. “Take him to the training ground and show me he is responsive to you. If so, I’ll believe you that it’s a matter of patience rather than the quality of the horse.”
“Shyness isn’t a genetic defect,” I mutter but then sigh and nod. “Alright, fine. I’ll show you.”
We walk back into the stable and to his stall. Though, my eyes cut over to the stall Rupert’s horse stays in. He isn’t there; he must have snuck off as well. Turning back to the young horse, I approach him just the same as before. The horse sniffs, huffs, and then leans into my touch. His coat is so soft and warm.
After some coaxing and a sugar cube or two, I manage to get permission to attach his reigns. With the gentlest of tugs, I move him toward the gate. Anders walks alongside me as I guide the horse toward the exit.
“Hmph,” he mutters.
I’m sure it’s annoying to see someone handle your horse, when your own career is centered around the animal. If I happened to be inclined to like him, which I’m not, I would tell him it’s okay. That some people are natural animal handlers, like me. Animals tend to prefer me and it doesn’t mean that I’m special nor does it mean that he’s defective. It’s just a reason I’m good at my job.
We get to the corral and I encourage the horse to trot along with me. “Good boy. Nice and steady, there we go.”
I can tell that the foal is filled with nervous energy. He wants to run, but we both know that can’t happen. He knows because I have his reigns and won’t let him, and I know because I’m supposed to be showing Anders that he can be worked with. If we were back at home, though, I would gladly take his reigns off and let him run out every last drop of energy. He needs it— I can only hope he gets his opportunity soon.
We do a couple of laps around the corral at a leisurely pace, and the foal is calm by the time we finish the second lap. I’ve all but forgotten about my encounter with Rupert, completely consumed with the task of helping the animal. At least if anything else came from today, I helped the foal feel better. Even if it is only temporary.