Ride A Wild Heart. Peggy Moreland
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pocket.
As he turned to head back to the house, he saw a truck by the barn…and stopped, staring, his heart slowly sinking to his stomach. He knew who the truck belonged to. And knew, too, that he might as well get it over with. No sense in avoiding the inevitable.
Bending over, he quickly stuck a foot into a boot, pulled it on, then gritted his teeth as he hopped a full circle, struggling to tug on the other one. Winded by the exertion, he straightened, hitching his hands low on his hips, and stared in the direction of the barn, dreading the confrontation.
But he had to do it, he told himself. There was no way he was going to be able to avoid seeing her, short of leaving Clayton in a bind.
Setting his jaw, he headed for the barn, trying to hide his limp, just in case she was watching. A man had his pride, after all, he reminded himself. He stepped inside the dim interior and paused, letting his eyes adjust to the sudden change in light. He heard her murmuring softly to a horse in the far stall. As the sound of her voice washed over him, he curled his hands into tight fists at his sides. God, how he’d missed her.
But he wouldn’t let her know. Not when she had left him high and dry, without a word of explanation.
Hoping to keep his presence unknown for as long as possible, he followed the sound of her voice, keeping his tread light as he moved down the long alleyway. At the stall where she worked, he moved to the gate and braced his hands along its top rail. Inside, she was bent over, cleaning clods of dirt and stone from a sorrel mare’s rear hoof. Worn jeans covered long legs, slightly bent, and hugged slim hips shaped like an upside-down heart. A bright yellow T-shirt stretched across her back and was tucked neatly into the waist of her jeans. The brim of a stained cap shadowed her face, and hair—nearly the same shade of red as the mare’s sleek coat—spilled like a waterfall from the cap’s back opening and over her shoulders.
At the sight of her his chest tightened painfully.
“Hello, Carol.”
She dropped the mare’s hoof and whirled. He watched her green eyes widen and was glad that he’d had the element of surprise on his side. If the situation had been reversed and she’d walked up on him unsuspected, he was afraid he might have fainted dead away. Or cried. And he wasn’t sure which would’ve been worse.
Her eyes slowly narrowed and she turned her back to him, stooping to lift the mare’s hoof again.
“Hello, Pete.”
“Saw you at the rodeo last night. Were you there to watch me ride?”
She tossed a frown over her shoulder. “In your dreams, maybe.” Turning her attention back to the horse’s hoof, she added, “If you’re looking for Clayton, he’s not here.”
Though her comment stung, Pete hadn’t expected any less from her. She’d made it clear two years ago that she didn’t want to see him again. But what she hadn’t made clear was why. “I didn’t come to see Clayton. I came to take care of the place while he goes chasing after Rena.”
“He’s wasting his time.”
Pete opened the gate and stepped inside, closing it behind him. “What makes you say that?”
“Rena finally wised up and realized that Clayton doesn’t want a wife.”
“He married her, didn’t he?”
She dropped the mare’s hoof and slowly turned to face him. “Only because he had to.” She tossed the hoof pick into the tack box and retrieved a brush. Placing a hand on the mare’s wide rump, she moved to the animal’s opposite side.
Pete watched her, wondering if she felt she needed the barrier of the horse between them. “Clayton didn’t have to do anything. He married Rena because he wanted to.”
She snorted a laugh as she swept the brush along the mare’s neck. “Uh-huh. And I’m sure that’s why he stays on the road all the time, seldom coming home and rarely bothering to call to check on his wife and kids.”
He knew what she said was true. Hadn’t he worried about the same thing, constantly nagging at Clayton to call Rena and let her know that he was all right? Still, he felt an obligation to defend his friend. “You know what life’s like on the circuit. Racing from one rodeo to the next. Operating on little or no sleep. Eating breakfast in one state, dinner in another.”
She stopped brushing and lifted her head, focusing in on the cell phone he’d tucked in his shirt pocket. Slowly she lifted her gaze to his, arching a brow. “You know, technology is a wondrous thing. A person can pick up a phone and make a call no matter what the time or their location.” She gave her head a shake and went back to her brushing. “Sorry, Pete. Can’t buy into that excuse.”
He tossed his hands up in frustration. “Okay, so maybe Clayton hasn’t been the model husband.”
“He hasn’t been a husband, at all. Or a father.”
Pete quickly stepped to the mare’s side to glare at Carol over the animal’s back. “Now wait just a damn minute. Clayton loves those kids.”
She stopped brushing and rested her forearm along the mare’s spine. “Yes, I think he does,” she said, meeting his gaze levelly. “But the sad part is, he doesn’t know how to express it.”
“And you’re a professional when it comes to dealing with relationships head-on, aren’t you, Carol?” He knew the blow was low and well aimed. But he didn’t care. She’d hurt him when she’d disappeared from his life, and the need for revenge was strong.
He watched her face pale, then she took a step back, dragging her hand from the horse’s side. Turning away, she tossed the brush into the tack box. “Don’t go there, Pete.”
“Why not?” he asked, rounding the horse to confront her. “You don’t seem to mind talking about other people’s relationships, their feelings. Why can’t you talk about your own?”
When she angled her head to look at him, the eyes that met his were emotionless. “Because where you’re concerned, I don’t have any.”
Taking the mare’s lead rope, she opened the gate and led the horse out into the alleyway. Pete caught up with her just outside the barn. He grabbed her arm and whipped her around to face him, his fingers digging into the flesh above her elbow. “Yes, you do,” he said, his voice tight with suppressed fury. “You loved me once. I know you did.”
“No,” she said, trying to pull free. “I never loved you.”
He grabbed her other arm and forced her to face him. The mare shied away from the scuffle, jerking the lead from Carol’s hand, then trotted over to graze on the grass growing at the side of the barn.
“Yes, you did,” he growled and gave Carol a shake, determined to make her admit it. “I tasted it every time I kissed you. Felt it every time you put your hands on me. I saw it in your eyes when we made love.”
Panic filled her green eyes, and she frantically shook her head, denying his claim. “No. I didn’t love you. I didn’t.”
He jerked her up hard against him. “Yes, you did.” Then, as if even now he could prove it, he crushed his mouth over hers. He felt her resistance, tasted the denial on her tightly pressed lips…and was even more determined to make her remember what they’d once shared.
He swept his tongue along the seam of her lips and, when she kept them stubbornly pressed together, wondered if he’d been wrong. Maybe she didn’t love him. Maybe she never had. But then he felt a shudder pass through her, and her lips parted beneath his on a low moan of surrender while her hands climbed up his chest to curl around his neck. He felt the dig of her short, blunt nails in his skin as she drew his face closer, the fullness of her breasts as she surged against him, the desperation of a long-suppressed need as she mated her tongue with his.
Carol. Oh, Carol. What happened to us? he cried silently.
Tightening his hold on her, he