Stabled (The Stables Trilogy #1) (3 page)

Back inside, she grabbed her shovel and set to mucking out the stables. It was hard work. She loved every minute of it. Work was the one thing she knew she could lose herself in without getting hurt. She and J.B. worked silently, but efficiently, together. She shoveled the manure and he cleared out the soiled bedding.

It was good work. It was hard work. Maple enjoyed the heat and focus. She was constantly aware of J.B.. The way he could lift and push bales of hay without a grunt. Or the way he occasionally would stop and peer at the horses in the pasture. Like he was just checking to make sure they were happy. Okay.

She swept out the old straw. Together they moved new bedding in and fluffed it out. Maple replaced the horses' food and water. By the time she was finished, her cotton shirt was stuck to her, itching and soaked with sweat. Her jeans were worse and her boots were filthy. She'd have to give them a good cleaning tonight and hope the urine didn't ruin the leather.

As if hearing her thoughts, J.B. said, "We'll get some rubber boots for you tomorrow. Is there anything else you need for the job?"

They were in Bonnie's stall together. Now that she wasn't working, Maple became aware of her close proximity to her strange employer. He'd taken his hat off and his thick black hair was plastered to his head and neck. It was a little long-- the ends curled around his ears and nape, and looked playful and boyish; at complete odds with the rest of him. His shirt was stuck to his chest and confirmed that his body was the fit, lithe musculature of a man who works hard.

Maple swallowed hard.  "Does this mean I got the job?"

Chapter Three

His eyebrows pressed tight together. "Of course. What d'ya think we've been doin' this whole time?"

"You told me to work, so, um..." her cheeks burned and she hated how nervous she was around him. He didn't seem like the type of person who had patience for timid girls like her. "I just did what you told me to? Followed orders?"

"Was it an order?" His voice lowered, raspy. From the hard work? Was she making him angry? Maple's fingers knotted together, sliding and tugging on knuckles.

"I suppose not, Sir--"

"J.B.."

Why did his name feel so strange in her mouth? She'd be okay with 'sir,' or 'Mr. Deyton.' To call him 'J.B.' seemed to be admitting an intimacy with the man. One she wasn't sure was there. She wasn't sure she could handle it being there.

"I suppose not... J.B." Yep, felt like she was chewing on something tough, though not completely disagreeable. "I don't need anything else to do the job. Thank you for this opportunity."

He nodded. "Yep." His eyes stopped meeting hers, instead gazing longingly at the stall door. Her heart fell, and she realized how much he must want to get away from her. This was his ranch, he wouldn't want to spend time with a silly girl like her.

"What about Bane?"

"I'll let the boys do him tonight. Tomorrow night Raúl'll help you. You'll meet him at dinner."

Her stomach rumbled, and she was glad he mentioned food. This day was surreal. "Okay."

"We better get the horses back in for the night," he drawled. They both took steps toward the door, bringing them close together. Her guts twisted when his hand grazed her wrist, stopping her.

They paused, air static around them. Then J.B.'s large, rough looking hand gestured. "Ladies first, Maple."

She was so self-conscious as she stepped in front of him that Maple felt every nerve alive, anticipating. The hairs on the back of her neck stood tall as she felt him move behind her, so close she caught a hint of his leather, cowboy smell. It was as if there were tiny fingers in her skin reaching out for him, craving him.

Her lungs ached, and she realized she was holding her breath. J.B. passed close behind her, close enough they should have touched but didn't. She shivered.

Then he strode by, and she followed on his heels, trying not to think about how much she liked the way his shirt clung to his broad back and the subtle smell of his sweat and cologne.

“Any other questions?” His eyes were already focused on the house, its lights standing out against the dark Texas dusk.

She shuffled, unsure if she should ask. But if she didn’t, she’d never be sure in her position. “Why me? You’d barely spoken to me on the phone, and, well, I’d not been speakin’ well then.”

“No, you hadn’t.” He thought about it a moment. “I reckon it’s because you sounded so nervous. You sounded like the kind of person I needed for the position.” There was no hint that he was joking.

“Pardon?” Her insides were fluttering still.

“Maple, what I need around here is obedience.” She shuddered, the word choice hitting too close to home. “I need someone who does what I say and can follow rules. On the phone, you sounded trainable. That bein’ said, stop sounding so damned unsure of yourself. People are like animals, you know. If you sound weak, they’ll pounce on you.” His warning was so on target she wanted to laugh.

Weak. Trainable
. She thought back to Tony, to how he’d trained her. His touch had been rough, but it had been effective. Her stomach tightened. The words he was saying should have insulted her, she supposed. Instead she was enticed, and she really, really couldn’t afford to be. She mumbled “okay,” unsatisfied with his answer and her response, but too afraid to push it further.

Maple was running straight into danger instead of seeking shelter.

As they locked up the stable and headed back, something caught her eye. Another stable. This was further in the distance, a small hike from where they were. It was little, but looked nicer. Newer.

"Do you have more horses?" She asked, trying to keep up with J.B.'s long strides.

"No. Five's more than enough for me and the boys. We really only use three; Red, Justice, and Mesa. Bonnie's too old to ride, and Bane's a menace."

"Well, what about the other stable? Should I clean it tomorrow? Does it have tools? Does--"

"That stable is shut tight." He paused, stopping hard enough she needed to backtrack a step. It was twilight, the stars were coming out. The sky was big, painted in dusky purple. "It's off limits. You aren't to go in there. Ever." Feeling his point was made, he took off again.

Maple's head swam as she scurried behind. She'd had a few questions before, but now she had more than she could count. Off limits? Shut tight? Why have a fancy new stable if you weren't going to use it? What was he keeping in there?

Damn it
, she thought. This was just like when her mom put wrapped presents out four weeks before Christmas. When those presents were put out early, it was painful for Maple. The urge to peek became her only thought, and unavoidable impulse. Curious to the point of madness.

She'd just landed the perfect job. No one knew her out here. It was isolated, just his house, the stable, and wide, open space. Those beautiful horses that wouldn’t have questions for her, or expectations she couldn’t meet. She couldn’t let the mystery stable get in her head. She couldn’t fantasize about her grim, mysterious boss. She couldn’t, wouldn’t, screw this up.

So why did he have to go and place a large, wrapped present in front of her and say "don't look?"

“This is your room. Bathroom’s just through there--” he pointed to a small door to her left, “and the kitchen is left, at the end of this hall. I imagine you’ll hear the boys if you’re worried about getting lost. Feel free to look around the house; if a door’s open, you’re welcome to look. If it’s closed, it’s closed for a reason.”

Like the stable
. J.B. left her without saying goodbye.

Her mind blanked as he walked away. Her body hadn’t reacted so acutely to any man. Ever. Oh, it reacted like this to her ex, Tony. But it had taken a year of him training her to make her wet and wanton at just a command. When she was with J.B., though…

All it took was a look. Or the breeze catching his scent. When their bodies got close. Things that meant nothing to him, probably. Things that normal people wouldn’t notice. But Maple noticed them all, and her panties were soaking, her nipples hard and begging for attention. Shamed, she went into her new room, needing to escape the day and the dredged up feelings.

Her room was small, but nicer than she’d dared to hope. The comforter was plush and white, as were the sheets and pillows. The walls were painted a muted grey. In a corner was a small table and a blue velvet wingback chair. Against one wall was her wardrobe, with a place to hang up top and drawers beneath.

Above her bed was a massive painting of a horse, much like Bane. Pitch black and majestic, the horse’s face appeared to leap from a shadowy stall. Despite the amateur slabs of paint, it was beautiful and creepy. Peering close, Maple didn’t recognize the artist’s signature.

Maple found her bags had already been placed at the foot of the bed. She went and peeked into the bathroom. It had a shower, small and tiled, but with one of the larger, fancy shower heads. Sink, mirror, and a mosaic on the floor. It looked Spanish, with blues that matched the chair in her room. When she squatted, Maple saw that each tile was hand painted.

Whoever decorated for J.B. liked small, luxurious touches. The things in this room were worth more than everything she owned put together.

In her bag were her toiletries, which she grabbed and took to the shower. Maple hadn’t worked that hard in a while and her muscles were singing with ache as she stepped under the hot spray.

The soothing lavender scent of her soap, the hot water, and the quiet should have helped her unwind. Instead, in the silence, she could feel her brain kicking back into gear. It filtered through each look J.B. had given her that day. She replayed every gruff phrase until her mind had memorized the slow, gravel drawl of J.B. His smell. The way his muscles moved as he worked.

The way he commanded her, without even trying.

This is my punishment
, she thought.
This is what I get for trying to hide.
She’d tried to leave home because farming hadn’t fit. She couldn’t see herself married and cooking and working the farm. She couldn’t see a white wedding dress or an antique bed with two dips and two feet of distance between them.

She’d wanted city lights and books and foods and cultures. Maple had wanted men. This was one of the reasons she’d left. Silt Springs had three hundred and eighty nine residents. Her high school class had been composed of twenty people, twelve of whom had been girls. If she wanted prospects, it meant leaving home. If she wanted to avoid the Bible-thumping farmers, she needed to leave West Texas.

So she’d gone to Louisiana, to Tulane. She’d found the lights, the food, the books, the cultures. She’d found men. Or, more fair to say, men had found her. One man in particular showed her exactly why rural girls didn’t belong with big city men. Tony.

With his Adonis body and golden hair, he’d been the prettiest boy she’d ever seen. Too bad his outside was the only attractive part about him. She didn’t realize that until he’d snared her. Tony taught her to come hard, fast, and easy. His “sweet little country slut.” But he’d also tortured the pleasure out of her, the memories of which still made her tingle.

Like that one time he’d choked her while he fucked her, his fingers squeezing until blood vessels popped in her eyes, her scream locked in her lungs by his fingers--

Stop
. Grabbing the knob, Maple switched the water to cold, as far as it would go. Ice peppered her skin in tiny rivulets, chilling her shut eyelids and hurting her bared teeth.
Stop thinking about it. You learned your lesson. Move on.

Maple ignored the needy ache between her legs.

After everything, after he left her and she’d left Tulane, he still had a grip on her. He’d stoked the black flames in her, and given a choice between a marriage like her folks or someone like Tony, she’d pick the latter. Sometimes being consumed by fire was better than a lifetime of ashes.

She shut the water off and grabbed a towel. It was fluffy and warm; she realized it was sitting on a heated bar. This seemed so ridiculous to her that Maple burst out laughing, able to step out of the shower and away from her toxic thoughts.

Just be glad for the job.

Fact was, she was lucky. Maple knew that, somewhere, though her conflicted feelings sometimes blurred that awareness. It was luck that Tony had cast her aside and luck that she’d made it to her parents unscathed. It was luck that no one came looking for her after she left Tulane, especially since she’d just drove home with no warning. Now she was here. She had a job-- a good job. It fit her better than she could hope.

She’d have to pour over some youtube channels later and make sure she remembered everything to care for the horses. But when she’d been in the stable, it had felt natural. She just knew what the horses needed. It felt good to be there.