ground swiftly in long strides. He looked just plain terrific in faded jeans.
She stifled a giggle and reminded herself that she didn’t need to be admiring his cute tush or long, muscular legs. Even if she had time for romance right now, which she didn’t, he wasn’t her type. Trey was definitely an alpha male. She preferred beta males. Like Derek? queried a small inner voice. Derek, the beta male who had dumped her for a bleached blond corporate attorney whose prospects looked brighter than an unemployed children’s book illustrator?
Okay, Okay, maybe not like Derek. Derek was a jerk in any letter of the Greek alphabet, she thought darkly. But not an all-out, chauvinistic alpha male like Trey.
Look at me now, she chided herself silently, trudging along behind Big Chief Trey like some downtrodden squaw in an old western movie . She quickened her pace, determined not to bring up the rear in this demeaning fashion. This was worse, she decided. Now she felt like a toy poodle out for a walk with its master, trotting furiously to keep up.
Reaching the barn, Trey peered into some of the darkened stalls. “These will do,” he said. “You’ll need to add some fresh straw from time to time for bedding. But what’s already in here looks clean enough for now.”
Going back to where he’d hitched the horses, Marielle didn’t even make the effort to adjust her stride to his. She saw Trey glance back over his shoulder and to her surprise, he slowed his pace until she caught up with him.
“Sorry about that,” he said, treating her to one of his million-dollar smiles. “I didn’t mean to run and leave you. I spend so much time with the guys that I’m a little out of practice walking with a female.”
Marielle smiled back. Judging by the way he’d kissed her a few days ago—he wasn’t out of practice in other areas.
Trey stopped at the fence and untied one of the horses. “Here,” he said, handing the lead rope to Marielle. “You take this one and I’ll bring the bay.”
Marielle froze. She craned her neck, looking up at the big golden horse who stood placidly at the other end of the cotton rope. It stared back at her, unblinking. Its large, liquid brown eyes seemed to hold no malice. Still, she thought, it was so big, so powerful … What if it tried to run away? Or what if, God forbid, she did something unknowingly to make it mad.
She directed her gaze downwards and swallowed, her mouth suddenly dry as cotton. Its hooves were big, too. Big and possibly dangerous. For heaven’s sake, get a grip, she upbraided herself silently. It was only a horse, not a rogue elephant. She looked up to see Trey watching her. A smile quirked the corners of his lips.
“Something wrong?” he asked.
“No, no … .er, nothing’s wrong,” she assured him, hoping he didn’t detect the slight quaver in her voice. She cleared her throat nervously. “We’ll just go down to the barn and … .into its room.”
“Stall, Marielle.” Trey reminder her gently. “The word is a stall.”
“Oh, yes, of course, I knew that,” she stammered, nodding. “Stall….” Then she stood there, rooted to the spot, as she realized that she had no idea how to get the thing to move. Lead it? Uh-uh. She didn’t like the sound of that. The horse had twice as many legs as she did. It was bound to walk faster. She didn’t want to be in its way and get stepped on. On the other hand, she thought uneasily, eyeing its muscular hindquarters, she really didn’t want to be behind it either. She glanced at Trey, wishing that he’d hurry up and start for the barn with the other horse. Then she could simply do whatever he did. Yeah, she told herself hopefully, that would work.
“Marielle, are you afraid of the horse?” Trey inquired. “Because if you are, you shouldn’t be. He’ll sense your fear and it will make him nervous.”
Marielle squelched the impulse to laugh. Make the horse nervous? Ha! It was her own nerves she was worried about.
Rebecca Hamilton, Conner Kressley