Knifepoint (2 page)

I'm still trying to figure out how to run with my reins in one hand instead of grabbing onto the saddle horn to keep from bouncing off. It's a wonder James hired me at all.

But I know why he did. It was obvious when we met last April that there was some pretty good chemistry between us. He put me up on a horse and asked me to ride around in a circle. Walk, trot, canter. When I didn't fall off, I guess he figured I was good enough for the job.

James's parents own the ranch.

And he hired all the summer barn staff. Not surprisingly, we're all girls around the same age. Long hair. Long legs. James likes his ladies. I could tell he liked looking at me. Not that I minded. He has the hugest, bluest eyes I've ever seen. And the way he wears his black hat pulled low on his brow… he's all dark and broodingly handsome.

I still get a shiver when I think of him.

Even now that things aren't so good between us.

James got pretty huffy a few weeks back when he found out I have a boyfriend back in the city. Tyler.

But it's pretty casual between Ty and me. Actually, it's kind of on hold. I'm the one who decided to leave town for the summer. But whatever. When James found out, he got really mad. It was like he thought I'd tricked him by not telling him about Tyler right away. He gave me the silent treatment for, like, a week. I thought that was pretty lame, especially for a guy who's nineteen.

Eventually he came out of his funk and we started talking again. But he stopped spending time with me. And he stopped taking rides out with me. He started hanging around with Carrie and Laura instead.

Yeah, and we all know how much work Carrie and Laura do around the ranch.

That was a couple of weeks ago.

Nowadays, it's pretty much me and a couple of other wranglers—Martin and Roxanne—who take out all the rides. James stays back at the barn to flirt with Laura and Carrie. I guess he figures the ranch is kind of his, which gives him permission to be lazy and duck responsibility. And that pisses me right off.

Yesterday, James and I finally had a blowout. It was bound to happen. I had just come back from a half-day ride.

I was hot. Thirsty. My knees hurt after sitting astride a horse's barrel for three hours. I hadn't eaten since 6:45 that morning, and I was starving.

I figured I'd be able to go in and have lunch before taking another ride out.

But when I arrived at the barn, four guests were leaning against the corral fence, waiting to go out on a two-hour ride. Groan.

Roxanne and Martin were on their days off, so they weren't around. Carrie, Laura and James were in the back corral, just out of sight. I could hear them goofing around and cracking the whip. Ignoring the customers.

I dismounted and started helping my guests get off their horses. One guy gave me five bucks, which was cool. I took my time removing the horses' bridles and loosening their saddles. I made a big deal of looking busy. I hoped that James and the others would start to get the waiting group ready. When they kept screwing around, I finally went over to the corral.

“Hey,” I said. Laura and Carrie smiled at me. Pretty smiles. All crystal and sharp edges.

“How was your ride?” Laura asked sweetly.

“Nice,” I said. “I'm hungry now though. I'm going in for lunch.”

“Yeah,” said Carrie. “We're going to go eat too, as soon as we give Pepper a bath. We're braiding his mane and tail for the parade tomorrow.” She pointed toward the dark-coated Clydesdale.

“Yeah,” agreed Laura. She eyed the people standing along the corral fence.

“Guess we should get started, huh, Carrie?”

Carrie sighed delicately. She handed the whip to James. “Sure. Let's go. See you guys later.” And they were gone.

Slouching in disappointment, James hung the whip on a hook. I could almost see the black thundercloud forming over his head as he walked toward the tack room. I followed, starting to feel my own anger simmering. Why the hell was he going inside when he could clearly see people waiting? It was his turn to take a ride out.

“The string horses aren't in the tack room,” I said coolly. “They're out in the corral. Where the next ride's waiting.”

James spun around and faced me.

“
Pardon
?” Acid dripped from his voice.

I was suddenly tired of his stupid games. Tired of tiptoeing around his dark moods. I pushed past him and stepped inside the tack room. “This is
your
ride,” I said, nodding my head toward the corral. “I've just come off a half-day, James. And I opened this morning. I'm going in to have lunch.”

And just like that, James flipped.

Fuh-lipped. With two quick steps, he was in my face. His eyes blazed and his lips tightened as they turned down.

He looked ugly.

I took a step backward.

“You don't tell me what to do,” he snarled through gritted teeth. His breath stank of cigarettes and coffee. His voice rose. “This is
my
ranch. You work for
me
.”

I squashed the urge to point out that, in fact, it wasn't his ranch. At least, not yet. But he was so worked up I was afraid that he'd clock me if I opened my mouth in argument.

James pointed outside, through the open door. I'm certain the people standing along the corral fence heard his every word. His eyes narrowed. “That's
your
ride.
You're
going to take those people out.” He jabbed his finger against my breastbone as he spat the words.

“
You don't tell me what to do
.”

I stared at him.
Was he serious?
My mind reeled as I tried to figure out how a person could go from nasty to downright demonic in fewer than ten seconds.

James stared right back, challenging me. When I didn't move, he gave me a sour little smile.

My mind scrambled to form cohesive thoughts. The blood boiled as it rushed to my head. My lower jaw tightened.

I was so angry I wanted to cry. But I ground my teeth together and bit the tears back. Crying was the last thing I'd let James see me do. I cleared my throat.

Waited until I could trust my voice to be steady.

“Fine,” I said. My voice shook anyway, and I hated myself for it. “I'll take this ride out. Not because you told me to, but because there are good people out there who are waiting to explore the wild Rocky Mountains on horseback. That's what they pay money to do here, at
your
ranch, James.”

I turned on my heel and stormed out of the tack room.

Outside on the steps, I stopped to swipe my arm across my eyes.

Then I rounded the corner to greet my guests.

Chapter Three

Thinking about yesterday's fight with James makes my pulse quicken. I'm still so angry with him. I'm angry with myself for backing down too. I'm sure, when he finally catches up with me, he'll have a lot to say. I might even lose my job. But I guess I'm okay with that.

At this point, I think I'd be fine with moving back to the city and actually making some money. I've had my nature fix. Maybe I'll start looking on Craigslist tonight. See what's out there.

Immersed in my thoughts, I don't notice Darren's return. “Ready for that adventure ride?” He's leaning on the corral fence again. Smiling at me.

My stomach does a slow dip 'n' dive, settling low within my body. I close my eyes in a final pointless prayer that one of the other wranglers will magically appear—maybe even the ranch heir himself? But no one comes. It's all up to me. This is my day to show my
cojones
, it seems. I sigh inwardly.

I work up a friendly smile and turn to Darren. This might be my last day here.

Might as well make it an adventure.

“You bet,” I say. “I am
so
ready.”

His grin widens, and my stomach tilts sideways a bit. Oh, is he ever nice to look at. I guess this might work out to be kind of fun after all. Maybe. As long as I can manage to stay on top of Whiskey.

Can you hold your Whiskey?
my brain bleats, and I utter a thin little laugh.

I take a few steps toward him with my hand outstretched. “I'm Jill,” I offer.

His hand, warm and strong, takes mine. “Pleased to meet you, Jill,” he says.

The second he touches me, I blush from my toes to the roots of my hair. I want to drop through the ground. Is anybody else witnessing my complete and utter loserdom? My eyes dart around. All is still. The flag ripples high on the pole, but otherwise there's no movement anywhere that I can see. The ranch is still dozing.

I look back at Darren. His eyes take me in, roving over my body. Not in a sicko way. Just enough to make me feel suddenly shy. I drop his hand and wipe my sweaty palm on my jeans. He smiles warmly again.

I try to get a grip on my fluttering insides. What's my deal today? This guy makes me feel like I've never flirted before in my life.

Taking a deep breath, I size Mr. Bar G up. Darren. I scan his long, lean body with the same degree of interest that he gave to mine moments ago. I decide to pair him with Springsteen, who's big and fast. And sure-footed. The last thing I need is a dude horse that loses track of its hooves on rough ground.

I slip a bridle over Springsteen's head and he takes the bit willingly.

Loves to run, the hairy bugger. I tighten his saddle and stroke his neck a bit, inhaling his gorgeous hay-dirt-and-poo smell. I hand the reins to Darren.

“This is Springsteen,” I say. “Climb on up. I'm going to grab my saddlebags from inside, and then we'll get moving.”

I head into the barn.

My eyes take a moment to adjust to the dimness inside. I fumble around in my saddlebags, feeling for my sunscreen, lip balm and water bottle. All there. Good. I take my phone out of my chest pocket and slip it into one of the soft leather bags.

I search around on the desk for a pen so I can write a note for the other wranglers to let them know what time I left.

No pen. What a surprise. I find a pencil, but its lead is broken. I toss it. Whatever.

I'll be back in a couple of hours. Those lazy hungover asses will probably still be asleep by the time I get back.

My coffee has gone cold, but I take one last sip and set the mug down on the desk. I'm as ready for this as I'll ever be.

I step into the corral and slip the saddlebags up behind Whiskey's saddle. I tie the leather straps to secure it, then swing up onto her back. Okay,
swing
is a bit poetic. There's nothing graceful about mounting a horse, I'm afraid. Not for me, at least. It's just a grab-and-scramble kind of thing. Once I'm up, though, I'm good to go.

I decide to skip the usual safety and skills talk. This guy's a wrangler. He looks like he knows his stuff. Doing a bit of comparison shopping at another ranch is what I figure. Seeing what kind of value we offer our guests. Taking that information back to Bar G.

Fair enough.

I decide right then and there to show him a good time.

I ease the main corral gate open, careful to close it behind me so the other horses can't get out. You only make that mistake once. It's still pretty quiet around here. I spot a couple of guests drifting back to their cabin from brunch in the main lodge. Not much else is moving. Must've been a heavy night of partying for the ranch staff.

I catch a glimpse of Jeremy through the restaurant window. He's wearing his white shirt and black tie, perfectly turned out for his shift despite probably still being hammered. We practically had to pour his ass into the car last night when we left the Ram and Raven. He waves as we pass the window, then turns his attention back to his customers. My head gives a tiny throb of sympathy for how the poor guy must be suffering. At least I was the DD last night. If I'd been drinking too, there's no way Darren would've gotten his adventure ride this morning.

Ah, yes. An adventure ride. That's what this guy's paying for, after all. So be it then. I step it up a notch, booting Whiskey into a brisk trot. We ease into a slow canter, leaving the ranch behind and entering the provincial park that borders it. Hundreds of acres of trails, river and mountains await our exploration. Never mind that the wranglers usually stick to the same four or five well-worn trails— it's the thought of all that unexplored territory that makes me feel so free.

I guess I'll miss this part of the job.

We're pretty far from the ranch when it hits me: Darren never gave me a ticket stub for his ride. I have no way of knowing whether he signed the waiver form. The one that says you might die from tripping, falling, drowning, being eaten by a bear, burning in a forest fire, plunging off a cliff or otherwise meeting your untimely end in a horse's company, so sign here on the dotted line. In fact, I don't know if he even
paid
for this ride.

Damn. That's a pretty big oversight.

I start to turn around in my saddle to ask Darren whether he did, in fact, sign the waiver in the main office. Maybe he just forgot to give me his stub.

But in the next moment an evil little thought starts to curl around the edges of my mind. So what if he didn't sign it? He knows how to ride. I highly doubt he'll break his neck and sue. I'm probably going to get my butt fired as soon as I see James anyway. And even if I don't, I think I'm moving on, so…wouldn't it be fun for me to just… take this mystery cowboy out on a free ride? It'll be my last little
screw you
to James.

I'm so chuffed by my naughty plan that I turn around and flash Darren a full-on grin. Surprised, he grins back.

Ooh, those butterflies again. With a whoop and a kick, I spur Whiskey into a hard gallop. We fly through the forest, laughing, as the morning sunshine streams through the pines.

Chapter Four

Okay,
I
fly through the forest, laughing in the sunshine. It takes a moment for me to realize I don't hear Springsteen's footfalls behind me anymore. When did I lose Darren? I slow Whiskey to a walk, and then I stop. I turn around in the saddle to look behind us. There's Darren— waaaaaay far back at the trail junction. Jesus, is he getting back
on
his horse?