Hitched to the Horseman

“Want to go another round?” he asked.

She smiled. “I really shouldn’t ignore the other guests who’ve come to see me tonight.”

“Then thank you very much for the dance.” He lifted the back of her hand to his lips and pressed a kiss on the soft skin.

Wide-eyed, she asked, “Did you give one of those to Alice, too?”

A faint grin curved the corner of his mouth. “No. She didn’t dance nearly as well as you.”

She studied him for several long, awkward moments and then smiled impishly. “Oh. Well, I won’t wipe it off, then,” she said brightly. Before he could make any sort of reply, she pulled out of his embrace and hurried off the dance floor.

Gabe stared after her and wondered why he felt as though he’d just taken a hard tumble from the saddle.

Chapter Two

Once the party finally ended, Mercedes didn’t get into bed until the wee hours of the morning. Though she was exhausted, her sleep ended abruptly when she woke up long before daylight, her body drenched in sweat, her senses disoriented.

Swinging her legs over the side of the bed, she pressed a hand to her damp face.

You’re okay, Mercedes. You’re in your old bedroom on the Sandbur. The bedroom where you played as a child, had sleepovers with friends.

Dropping her hand from her bleary eyes, she gazed around at the shadows shrouding the walls and furniture while she waited for the axis of her brain to spin in the right direction.

She’d been dreaming, she realized, but not of something pleasant or peaceful. The dream had involved a man and a horse inside a corral. She’d been watching from the fence, calling out to him, trying to warn him that he was about to be hurt. The horse had charged, knocked the man down, then reared and viciously brought his front hoofs down on the man’s back.

Gabe! She’d been dreaming about Gabe Trevino. The realization stunned her almost as much as the vivid dream had shocked her senses. She’d not gone to bed thinking of the man much. Well, maybe that tiny kiss on the back of her hand had fluttered through her thoughts right before she’d gone to sleep, she corrected herself. But her mind certainly hadn’t been consumed by the man.

With a rough sigh, she rose from the bed and stumbled into the bathroom. She might as well shower and start the day, because there was no way she could go back to sleep now.

A few minutes later, Mercedes, dressed in jeans, boots and a cool summer shirt, walked through the quiet house. In the kitchen, she realized that she’d even beaten Cook out of bed. The room was still dark.

For a brief moment, she considered making a pot of coffee, then decided she’d wait until the rest of the family was up to enjoy it with her.

Instead, she let herself out of the house through a back exit and made her way through the dark early morning to the horse barn. Across the way, she could see a faint light glowing in the bunkhouse. The wranglers would be stirring soon, catching their mounts and saddling them up for the day’s work ahead.

Mourning doves were cooing and mockingbirds were beginning to flitter to life among the live oaks. There was a peaceful beauty to the ranch that Mercedes had always loved. Even when the ranch yard bustled with life, it was a poetry of sights and sounds. The hammer of the farrier, the bawl of a calf, the nicker of a horse, the sun coming up and the moon going down.

From generation to generation and year after year, her family had worked and carved this ranch from prickly pear patches and endless stretches of mesquite trees. As for Mercedes, she’d been born here in her parents’ bedroom.

Yes, she’d been rooted here. But eight long years ago, she’d pulled up those roots and run as fast and hard as she could. Now she wondered if she’d made a mistake by coming back, trying to make this her home once again, trying to pretend that she could fall back into the life she’d led before her college life and John’s big deception, before her stint at Peterson AFB and the humiliating mistake she carried from there.

Trying to shake away the nagging questions, she walked on to the barn and climbed up on a board fence that corralled a small herd of yearling horses. From a lofty seat on the top rail, she watched the colts and fillies play in the cool morning air until she heard a footfall behind her.

Glancing over her shoulder, she was more than surprised to see the man of her disturbing dream propping his shoulder against the board fence. He was dressed in a dark blue denim shirt with pearl snaps, the standard fare that cowboys had worn for decades. Funny how the shirt looked tailored just for him. Some men tried to play the part, while others were naturals. She realized that Gabe was one of those naturals, the epitome of all things Western right down to the square toes of his brown cowboy boots.

“You’re up very early,” he remarked.

“So are you. Today is Saturday,” she pointed out. “Don’t tell me that you start your workday this early on a Saturday.”

Even though he had no way of knowing that she’d dreamed about him, the fact that he’d shouldered his way into her subconscious thoughts was enough to put a sting of embarrassment on her cheeks.

He jerked his head toward the pen full of horses. “They don’t know it’s a weekend.”

He was right. Nothing stopped on the ranch. At the least, livestock had to be fed and cared for every day of the week.

She drew in a long breath and let it out as she guided her gaze back to the pen of horses. “Are all of these broken to the halter?” she asked.

“Yes.”

“What are you doing with them now?”

“Getting them used to blankets and saddles on their backs. When they get closer to two, I’ll put someone lightweight like you on them. Ever ride a green horse?”

Even though he was standing on the ground and a good foot away from her, his presence was a huge thing, crowding toward her, making her completely aware of her femininity.

She answered, “I’ve ridden a few outlaws before. But as for green horses, only once. Daddy forbade us to climb on anything that wasn’t completely broken to ride, but I didn’t always do what I was told.”

“Imagine that.”

Even though she didn’t glance at him, she could hear a smile in his voice, and the sound warmed her, drew her to him.

“Yeah. I got bucked off and broke my arm. I missed the whole softball season at school that year. I learned about green horses the hard way.”

Apparently she’d always been an outdoors person, Gabe thought. The notion surprised him, although it shouldn’t have. She’d been in the military, after all. She’d had to go through rigorous physical preparation to graduate basic training. Still, she seemed so womanly, so soft, that he couldn’t imagine her in camouflaged fatigues or wearing a pair of spurs and chaps.

“Don’t feel badly, we’ve all been dumped,” he told her.

She remained quiet and after a few moments, Gabe glanced up to see her wiping her hands down her thighs as she rose from her seat on the fence. She was wearing a blue and white patterned shirt with short sleeves. A white scarf was twisted and tied around her thick hair. Once she was standing on the ground, he could see her face was void of makeup, yet it held as much color and beauty as the sun breaking over the treetops.

Smiling faintly, she said, “I’d better get back to the house. I haven’t had any coffee yet, or breakfast.”

“I can’t do anything about the breakfast, but I’ve just made a pot of fresh coffee. Would you care to join me for a cup?”

She glanced questioningly around her. “Here?”

He jerked his head toward the barn. “I’ve got an office inside the barn.”

Surprise arched her brows. “I thought Cordero’s office was over by the cattle barn.”

“It’s still there. But I like it here—keeps me closer to the foaling mares. And your mother kindly supplied me with a few things to make it comfortable.”

She gestured toward the building situated several yards behind him. “I’d like to see this new office of yours,” she agreed. “And I’d especially like the coffee.”

Built when the Sandbur had first become a full-fledged ranch in 1900, the barn was one of the few original structures that had weathered more than a century of the extreme climate of South Texas. Because the building was made of heavy lumber, it stayed cooler in the summer and warmer in the winter than some of the newer barns that were built from corrugated iron. It had always been one of Mercedes’s favorite spots on the ranch.

As the two of them stepped inside the cavernous building, Gabe took Mercedes by the arm and guided her down a long, wide alleyway to a closed door. Gabe opened it and gestured for her to enter.

The moment she stepped into the room, she was immediately impressed with the large teacher’s desk and office chair, the computer, fax and copier, telephone, refrigerator and small cooking element. “Why, this used to be a tack room,” she said with amazement. “How did you make such a transformation?”

“Me and some of the hands partitioned off part of the feed room and moved all the riding equipment in there.” He gestured for her to take a seat on the long couch running against one wood-paneled wall. “Sit down. You might recognize that couch. It came from the den in the big house. Your mother said she needed a new one anyway. I think she was just being generous. During foaling season, I need a place to stretch out from time to time.”

While she made herself comfortable on the couch, Gabe poured coffee into two foam cups.

“Cream or sugar? Or both?” he asked.

“Cream. Just a splash. But I can do it.”

She started to rise from her seat, but he motioned her back down. “I can manage.”

Back at the couch, Gabe handed her the steaming coffee and then took a seat on the cushion next to her. Other than Geraldine Saddler, no woman had set foot in his private domain until now. It seemed strange and even more distracting for Mercedes to be sitting only inches away from him.

“Mmm. Thank you,” she murmured as she lifted the steaming drink to her lips.

As he sipped from his own cup, he realized he shouldn’t have invited her in here. In fact, he shouldn’t have danced with her last night. Because even now he was assaulted with the memories of her curvy body brushing temptingly against his, the scent of her skin, the softness of her sigh as it skittered against the side of his neck. He couldn’t remember a time that any woman had left such an indelible impression on him, and that could only mean trouble. Mercedes was rich, strong and independent—just like the woman who’d married him, then smashed him into useless pieces.

“So you’re home now,” he said. “What do you plan to do with your time?”

She stared into her cup rather than at him. “I—I’m not sure yet. For starters, I’m going to give myself a few days to adjust to civilian life.”

She could afford to do that, Gabe thought. In fact, she could afford to do anything she wanted to do. He couldn’t imagine having that much financial security. Sherleen had been rich, before and after they’d married. Not nearly as rich as Mercedes or her family, but wealthy enough. As her husband, Gabe had never considered his wife’s money as his, too. In fact, he’d never wanted it and had done his best to pay his own way throughout their short years together. A man of any stock didn’t want to be labeled as being kept by his wife. And to Gabe, riches weren’t measured by the balance in a bank account. Unfortunately, his ex-wife had thought differently. Now he found himself attracted to another rich woman. What the hell was the matter with him, anyway? He’d learned the hard way that he and wealthy women didn’t mix.

He said, “I guess that was a stupid question on my part, anyway.”

Her eyes were full of questions as they roamed his face and Gabe realized he needed to be more careful or his personal feelings would show.

“Why do you say that?”

What the hell, he thought. He wasn’t going to tiptoe around this woman as though she were royalty. “Nothing. Just that—well, it’s not like you have to go out and find a job.”

Disgust turned the corners of her lips downward as she rose from her seat to amble around the tiny room. “I can’t read your mind, Gabe. So I don’t have any idea what sort of impressions you have about me. But I can assure you that I don’t plan to sit on my hands.”

“I wouldn’t think so,” he drawled with a bit of sarcasm. “It might flatten them.”

She shot him a droll look and then chuckled. “Smart mouth. I’ll bet as a teenager you gave your mother fits.”

A dark cloud suddenly shadowed his thoughts. Though he reminded himself that this woman was teasing, that she couldn’t know about Jenna Trevino’s death, it still hurt to think of growing up without his mother and the horrible way she’d left this world.

“No. I didn’t give her fits,” he said curtly. “She was in her grave.”

Mercedes couldn’t have felt more awful. She wanted to walk behind the desk and crawl inside the knee hole, but hiding would hardly help her now. “Oh, boy, I messed up there, didn’t I?” she murmured more to herself than to him. Glancing regretfully at the man, she tried again, “Gabe, I—You’re a young man. I just assumed that your mother was still alive. Forgive me.”

She watched him draw in a long breath, then release it, and from the strained expression on his face, she got the notion that he felt more awkward than even she did.

“Forget it, Mercedes. You didn’t know.”

Afraid she’d worsen her foot-in-mouth disease with any sort of reply, she waited for him to say more, anything that would explain how his mother died. But after several more clumsy moments passed in silence, she decided it best to change the subject completely.

Resting a hip on the corner of the desk, she said, “So. What do you use the computer for? Keeping track of sales?”

“Yes. And I also keep a file for every horse on the Sandbur. It’s a big help in keeping track of their breeding, farrier visits, vaccinations, injuries, progress in their training. You get the picture.”

Mercedes was very impressed. Her cousin Cordero was a good horse trainer, but he’d never been that meticulous about keeping data. “You sound like a doctor keeping updates on his patients’ charts.”

“Exactly. I’ll show you.”

Leaving the couch, he walked past her and went to stand behind the desk. Mercedes swiveled around to see him switching on the computer. While the machine whirred to life, she used the time to study him from beneath a pair of lowered lashes.

Apparently he’d not taken the time to shave this morning. A black stubble of beard covered his jaws, upper lip and chin. His hair, what she could see of it beneath the brim of his hat, curled damply against the back of his neck, as though it hadn’t been long since he’d stepped out of the shower. The scent of soap and musk and man all swirled together and drifted across the small space between them.

Stirred in spite of herself, she looked away and made a steeple of her hands. For the past eight years, she’d worked around men on a daily basis. Some of them had been goodlooking, even sexy. A few had become buddies. And one—Well, she’d thought Drew was a very special friend until he’d proved not to be a friend at all. But even before his betrayal, she’d never found his flirtatious smile and rumbling laugh this distracting. He’d never had her thinking of hot nights, sweaty sheets or even a slow, wet kiss the way this man was doing now.

Mercedes believed the sexual side of her had died along with her dreams of finding love. Yet for some reason she couldn’t understand, Gabe Trevino seemed to be shaking her back to life.

“Okay,” he said, breaking into her thoughts. “Here’s a chart on He’s A Peppy Charge. Take a look.”

Attempting to shake away the sensual fog settling over her, Mercedes placed her coffee mug on the desk then walked around to stand next to him. With every ounce of strength in her, she forced herself to focus on the monitor screen rather than him.

“Everything is here,” she observed. “His birthday, family tree, color and markings, vet visits, blood tests.” She scanned the data until she reached Gabe’s personal comments and then she read aloud, “Deceptive charmer. Tries to buck if not completely warmed up. Great speed and athleticism. Needs experienced cowboy on his back.”

A provocative smile curved her lips as she turned her head to look at him. “Does that mean you?”

The moment she saw his eyes narrow, Mercedes knew she’d struck a nerve and nudged him over the invisible line that had been acting as a polite barrier between them.

As he moved closer, she sucked in a bracing breath.

“Just what are you doing here, anyway, Ms. Saddler?”

Gabe had never intended to let this woman provoke him. From the moment he’d spotted her on the fence, he’d planned to appear cool and collected, even if his insides felt like a boiler on the verge of exploding. But now the teasing glint in her sexy blue eyes made him forget all about his earlier determination. Now his focus refused to go beyond the moist pout of her lips, the idea of how she would taste and feel.

“Uh—what do you mean?” she asked hoarsely.

Before Gabe could stop himself, he wrapped his hand around her forearm and tugged her against him. As her breast flattened against his chest, he could feel her heart flutter, and his own begin to pound.

“I mean, here,” he clipped out. “At the horse barn. Where you knew you would find me.”

Gabe hated the way her soft curves aroused him, yet at the same time, he couldn’t deny the excitement rushing through his veins.

Scowling at him, she said, “I walked down to the horse pen because it’s a nice, cool morning and I wanted to get out of the house. This is the last place I thought you would be.”

Her lame excuse filled his snort with a mix of humor and sarcasm. “Really? This is where I work. Where did you think I’d be?”

“In bed. Where everyone else is right now!”

Her nostrils flared like a filly being circled by a stallion, and Gabe felt a hot, feral flame flicker deep inside him.

“Everyone is in bed—but you and me,” he pointed out lowly.

Her tongue darted out to moisten her lips and it was all Gabe could do to keep from closing the last bit of space between their faces. “If you think—”

“I think a whole lot of things,” he bluntly interrupted, “but I know we’re both thinking about this.”

Mercedes wasn’t sure if he tugged her forward or if she simply wilted against him, but the next thing she knew his mouth was hot and heavy on hers, his arms were wrapped around her shoulders, anchoring her upper body against his.

The intimate connection was such a shock to Mercedes’s senses that the thought of resisting didn’t have time to enter her mind. And then as his lips began to search and plunder her mouth, she realized that she didn’t want to resist. She didn’t want to do anything but stand in the circle of his arms and drink in the heady taste of him.

Somewhere outside, she heard a rooster crow, a horse snort, another squeal. Inside the room a clock was tick, tick, ticking. Or was that the sound of her heart beating in her ears? She couldn’t tell anymore. Her senses were beginning to melt into a useless puddle.

A keening moan gurgled in the back of her throat as her hands searched for some sort of support. It came in the way of his hard shoulders, and her fingers were about to latch over them when he suddenly jerked back from her.

The abrupt separation of their bodies tilted Mercedes’s footing and left her snatching a steadying hold on the edge of the desk. As she stared at him in stunned fascination, she felt her lips burning, her lungs dragging in long ragged breaths.

After several hard swallows, she finally managed to ask, “What—what was that all about?”

His jaw hardened as his gray gaze swept over her flushed face. “To let you know that I don’t play games, Mercedes. Not with you. Not with any woman. Try it again and I promise you—you’ll get burned.”

Straightening her shoulders, she lifted her chin. “Pompous ass,” she snarled at him. “Do you think every woman that gets within speaking distance of you wants to crawl into your bed?”

Without warning, his hand shot out and cuffed around her upper arm. Mercedes glanced down at his fingers biting into her flesh and then she saw them—tough welts of jagged scars on top of his wrist and disappearing beneath the cuff of his shirt.

Somewhere, somehow he’d been terribly injured. The visual evidence, even the mere thought, shocked Mercedes almost as much as his kiss had, and for long moments she couldn’t tear her eyes away from his brown skin.

“Gabe, your—”

Before she could say more, he jerked his hand away and quickly stepped back from her.

“Get out of here, Mercedes,” he gritted. “Go find some other man to amuse you.”

She couldn’t believe that only seconds before sympathy for the man had swept through her. Right now, she’d love to slap his jaw.

“In case you’ve forgotten, the Sandbur is my home. I’m not going to tiptoe around you as though you’re something special. If I want to come here to the horse barn or anywhere else on the ranch where you just happened to be, I will! And if you don’t like it, you can just—go!”

Not about to wait for any sort of reply from the man, Mercedes stomped out of the little office and marched down the alleyway of the barn. By now, sunlight was slanting through the door of the cavernous building, shedding light on the stalls lined against both walls. Several horses were sticking their heads over gates, watching her movements. Under normal circumstances, she would have stopped and greeted every animal. As it was, her lips were on fire, her eyes stinging with tears, and she couldn’t get out of the barn fast enough.

Back in the tiny office, Gabe switched off the computer and slumped into the desk chair, then immediately jumped back up and grabbed his coffee cup. As he splashed more hot liquid over the portion that had cooled, he muttered several choice curse words at himself. He didn’t know what in hell had come over him or possessed him to grab the woman, much less kiss her.

She’d done nothing more than tease him. And she’d done it gently, at that. Nothing she’d said or done had warranted his behavior. Even if she had come down to the barn purposely to see him, even if she was using him to amuse herself, that didn’t mean he should have taken the bait. He liked to think he was older and wiser than to let his head be turned by a pretty face.

But the moment she’d stood next to him, her face only inches away, her scent drifting over him, tantalizing every cell in his body, his common sense had crawled out the door. Now just the memory of her lips beneath his, the feel of her hands moving against his chest was enough to leave him hard and frustrated.

So what are you going to do now, Gabe?

Remind himself that he was nothing more than a hired hand and get to work.

Chapter Three

Later that morning, Mercedes was in her bedroom, trying to motivate herself to finish unpacking the boxes that were stacked in one corner. So far, she’d done little more than hang a few garments in the armoire.

What was she really doing here on the ranch, anyway? she asked herself for the umpteenth time. Was she really home to stay, or was she simply using the ranch as a launching pad to some other job at some other place?

Sighing wistfully, she dropped the slinky blouse back to the open box lying upon the bed and walked over to a huge arched window. Since her upstairs bedroom was on the west end of the house, the window was partially shaded by the enormous limbs of a live oak, yet through the break in the leaves she could see a part of the ranch yard and a small portion of the horse barn. Just looking at the old barn and recalling her encounter with Gabe Trevino was enough to make her blush.