World Enough and Time (7 page)

“Maybe so.”

His fingertips trailed down the side of my face. “Not just because of the anticipation, either. That night was incredible too.”

“You’re telling me?” I smiled. “I don’t think I’ve ever come that many times in a night.”

He chuckled. “I’d love to claim that I do that with every woman, but that’s the first time I’ve ever made a woman come so many times.”

“Well, you’re more than welcome to do it again.”

His hand moved into my hair and he kissed me again. “Maybe I will. I rather enjoyed it.”

“Don’t let me stop you.” My fingertip ran across his sweaty skin, absently drawing light circles around his nipple. He sucked a breath in through his teeth.

“Like that?” I asked.

He closed his eyes and nodded slowly.

“Hmm, good to know.” I raised my head to kiss him and my hand went to his shoulder. Then I gently pushed him back onto the bed, lying on my side next to him as he’d just been beside me. “And since you like this”—I trailed my fingers over his chest again—“it’s a safe bet you’ll also like
this
.” I’d barely inclined my head when he sucked in a breath, and when my tongue flicked across his nipple, he released that breath all at once.

“Be careful,” he said.

I circled his nipple with the tip of my tongue. “Why’s that?”

“Because I—” He inhaled sharply when I did it again. “Because if you keep doing that, I’ll get turned on again.”

“And?”

“And then I’ll have to put you on your back and fuck you.”

“Well then,” I said. “I should keep doing it, shouldn’t I?”

Chapter Eight

Blinking back fatigue from another long, long night with Connor, I cued Jekyll into a working trot. He moved into the trot without protesting, and for that I was thankful. The immense Hanoverian could switch moods from docile and placid to pissy and unpredictable in a matter of seconds. To say the least, he’d more than earned his nickname, and I hoped he kept his “Mr. Hyde” side to himself today.

So far so good.

We made a circle around one half of the arena. Then I gave him a gentle nudge, asking for a canter on the left lead. The transition into the canter was smooth, but he led with his right leg instead of his left. This was one of his bad habits, and any kind of impatience on my part would trigger one of his moody episodes. As calmly as possible, I brought him back down to a trot, cued him again, and on the next stride, he went into a beautiful canter on the left lead.

Now if I could just get Sara—who would be riding him at an upcoming show—to correct him so calmly, they might stand a chance of getting through their dressage tests without Mr. Hyde putting in an appearance.

When I was finished with my ride, I let the reins hang loose so he could stretch his neck. Patting his shoulder, I let him plod lazily around the arena to cool off.

“Hey, Dani,” Gavin’s voice boomed through the arena and echoed up into the rafters.

Speaking of Jekyll and Hyde.
I steered the horse with my legs, guiding him to the gate upon which my boss leaned. “What’s up?”

“The farrier will be here on Thursday.” He held up a clipboard. “Do you need Jester and Calypso on the schedule?”

“Please,” I said. “Just the usual. Trim and shoes.”

He nodded and wrote on the clipboard. Then he looked at Jekyll. “How’s he doing today?”

“Still having some trouble with that left lead,” I said with a shrug. “But he’s getting better.” I half-expected him to huff and curse about the horse’s ongoing problems, but he simply nodded. His neutral, calm mood unnerved me. He was sometimes harder to deal with like this. At least when he was yelling and stomping around, I knew what to expect. When he was like this, the volatility still lurked beneath the surface. The skies were clear, but some of the worst storms were the kind that came out of nowhere.

“What about Dante?” he asked.

I swallowed. “He’s, well, he’s got a ways to go.”

Gavin eyed me, and the dark clouds gathered. “That’s not what I want to hear,” he said through his teeth. “He’s going to Wenatchee in a few weeks.”

And he’s nowhere near ready
. “I’m doing the best I can with him,” I said. “There’s just a lot of crap I need to undo. His last owner worked him over.”

My boss took and released a sharp, impatient breath, then shook his head. “Well, as long as he’s ready by then.” With that, he walked away, and I could finally release my own breath. Dante wouldn’t be ready for the show. Even if he was, just getting him into the trailer would be an ordeal and a half.

But I wasn’t going to argue with Gavin today. I was exhausted and he was in a halfway decent mood. It was best to tread lightly on these eggshells until I was ready to take whatever backlash came when I dared tell him the neurotic thoroughbred had no business going to a show anytime soon.

Not today, though.

Gavin didn’t know shit about horses. He was a businessman who’d married Leslie, an accomplished horsewoman, and suddenly fancied himself a horseman. He talked a good game, but he didn’t know a hoof pick from a stirrup leather. Unfortunately, I couldn’t tell him as much because he also signed my paychecks.

I took Jekyll back in the barn, unsaddled him, and put him away. While I tried to decide who to work next, Susan came in, leading Xena.

“How was she?” I asked.

Susan groaned and rolled her eyes, but patted the mare’s neck anyway. “She has a stupid today.”

I laughed. “Better you than me, then.”

“Gee thanks.” She cross-tied Xena and unbuckled the girth. “Are you trail-riding today?”
“I was thinking about it,” I said. “Calypso could use a day out and so could I.”

“Well, I’m taking Bridger out as soon as I’m done with this one,” she said.

“I think I’ll join you, then.”

Fifteen minutes later, Calypso and Bridger were saddled and ready to go.

I put my foot in the stirrup and hoisted myself up, wincing as I swung my leg over. Once I was in the saddle, I rubbed my hip gingerly.

“Sore?” Susan grinned.

“Maybe.”

“And would that have anything to do with—”

“Maybe.”

“You dirty girl.”

My cheeks burned. “What can I say? He’s a lot of fun.”

Susan clicked her tongue and shook her head. “So are you going to see him again?”

“Well, maybe after I catch a few hours of sleep,” I said as we steered the horses toward the trail. “That man will be the death of me if I don’t.”

She laughed. “I didn’t think he had it in him. Who knew?”

“I certainly do.”

“Ugh, I don’t want to know.”

We came to a fork in the trail.

“Left or right?” I asked.

She pursed her lips. “Hmm, how about left? Lazybones here could use a run up a few hills.”

“Left it is.” We followed the trail to the left. This was a narrower trail, but still wide enough for us to ride side by side. It was also much more hilly than the other direction, and although we didn’t like to encourage our horses to race, neither of us could resist the occasional race up one of the steeper inclines.

“So you’re really going to see him again?” she asked. “Like,
keep
seeing him?”

I nodded. “Planning on it, yes.”

“You think this is going to, you know—”

“Turn into a relationship?”

“Yeah.”

Shaking my head, I said, “Nah. I don’t want anything more.”

“Can’t blame you. I mean, I can vouch for him. He’s a good guy, he really is.” She paused. “Just, you know, be careful. God only knows how he’s doing after that breakup.”

I shrugged. “Perfect for me, then. Like I said, I don’t want anything, and he’s leaving in a few months anyway.”

“Well, yeah, but what if you get attached? Or he does?”

“He’s leaving, so it doesn’t matter. He hasn’t said anything about that, by the way. Are you sure he’s moving?”

She nodded. “Olivia—that’s his ex—told me a while back that he’d gotten into the program he wanted at Stanford. It was his top choice and, from what I hear, they offered him a pretty sweet deal. I mean, I don’t know how scholarships or whatever work with doctoral programs, but Olivia said he was beside himself about it. So, no way in hell he’s backing out of something like that.”

Disappointment tried to tug at my gut, but I ignored it. “That pretty much settles it, then. He’s leaving, so we can’t do much more than what we’re doing.”

Susan snorted. “And I’m sure you’re terribly disappointed with what you’re doing with him.”

I put a hand to my forehead and sighed melodramatically. “Terribly.”

Calypso fidgeted when one of the hills came into view. Bridger snorted and chomped his bit.

“Think they want to race?” Susan asked.

“Hmm, I don’t know. Maybe they—” I dug my heels into Calypso’s sides and he shot into a gallop.

“You cheater!” Susan called out.

I laughed, standing up in the stirrups and pushing the reins forward so I didn’t hold him back. Behind us, Bridger’s hoof beats crescendoed as he tried to catch up. I urged Calypso on, squinting as the wind made my eyes tear up. The horses thundered up the hill, wind whipping at manes and clothes. Bridger was nipping on our heels, so I tapped Calypso’s sides with my heels to encourage him to run just a little faster.

They’d nearly caught up with us when we reached the top. There, we brought them back down to a trot, then a walk. Even though the horses had done the running, Susan and I were out of breath, laughing and patting their necks as we continued down the trail.

“That wasn’t fair,” she said, panting.

“Just keeping you on your toes.”

She pointed at me and gave me a menacing glare, though her poorly hidden smile killed the effect. “I’m going to get you back for that.”

“Yeah, we’ll see about—” My cell phone vibrated in my pocket. “Oh for Christ’s sake.” While I fished it out, Susan craned her neck.

“Gavin?” she asked.

“Probably. Since we had the audacity to take a trail ride on a nice day.” I looked at my phoned, and my stomach lurched.

Matt
.

“Oh fuck,” I muttered.

“Boss man?”

“My ex.” I put the phone to my ear. “Hey.”

“Hey, Dani.” His voice made bile rise in the back of my throat.

I coughed. “Um, what’s up?”

“I found some of your stuff while I was going through some boxes,” he said. “Not a whole lot, but would you mind coming by to get it? Like, soon?” The disgust in his voice set my teeth on edge.

“How soon?”

“Today, if you can.”

I laughed. “Jesus, Matt, you think I can just drop everything and come over? Listen, I’ve got a lot going on these days.” Susan and I exchanged mischievous looks and I smothered another laugh. “I’ll call you in a few days, but I can probably come by this weekend.”

He huffed. “Fine. Just, as soon as you can, okay?”

“Of course,” I muttered. After I’d hung up, I swore under my breath.

“What’s his problem?”

“Apparently he found some of my stuff in the apartment.” I shoved my phone back into my pocket. “You know, it’s lovely how he always sounds so fucking thrilled whenever he calls about stuff like this. Like, how dare there be any evidence that I ever set foot in that goddamned place.”

“Ugh, he’s a bastard,” Susan said with a dismissive gesture.

“You’re telling me. After I get my stuff, he’ll probably have an exorcist in just to make sure I’m completely gone.”

We rode on, talking about the horses and Gavin instead of my ex, but the phone conversation lingered in the back of my mind. Matt’s efforts to evict me from his life and remove all reminders of my existence hurt, but not as much as they used to. In fact, it occurred to me that this was the first time my ex had crossed my mind since before Connor and I met down by the waterfront last night. I couldn’t help but smile to myself. Nothing removed Matt from my thoughts like a night of sweaty, desperate sex with Connor.

And I think I could go for some more Connor-induced amnesia tonight
.

Chapter Nine

The moment Connor walked into the restaurant, I knew there was something I’d hoped he would help me forget, but I couldn’t remember what it was.
Mission accomplished
, I thought when I stood to greet him with a quick kiss.

“Sorry I’m late,” he said. “Traffic was insane.”

“It’s always insane in this city, isn’t it?”

He laughed. “True enough, true enough.”

“That’s one thing I just haven’t gotten used to yet,” I said. “The roads are confusing enough without all the traffic.”

“Yeah, I hear that.” He quickly perused the menu before setting it aside. “It’s one thing I’m not going to miss about this place.”

I raised my eyebrows. “Miss?”

“Yeah, I’m—” His gaze shifted and his cheeks darkened a little. “I’m leaving the area in a few months.”

So it’s true
. “Oh. Um, where to?”

“Northern California,” he said. “I was accepted into the doctorate program at Stanford.”

“Wow, congratulations.”

“Thanks.” He smiled. “They were my top choice. Not that I particularly want to spend five years of my life in California, but…” He shrugged. “There’s a price for everything, isn’t there?”

Indeed there is
. I cleared my throat. “So, hopefully this doesn’t make me sound like a complete idiot, but what exactly does one do with a degree in linguistics?”

“Well, I’m specializing in Forensic Linguistics.”

“Forensic Linguistics?”

“Yep. It’s pretty cool, I think,” he said. “They study things like suicide notes, threat letters, that sort of thing. See if they can identify who wrote them based on how they use language. Word choices, stuff like that.”

I absently ran my finger along the edge of my menu. “Isn’t it pretty obvious who wrote a suicide note?”

“If it’s actually a suicide, yes. But sometimes it’s a forgery to cover up a murder.”

“Really?”

He nodded. “Or, as another example, it’s a way of determining if a confession is legitimate or forged. When someone has a certain speech pattern or writing pattern, then their confession or suicide note deviates from that, it can raise some red flags.”