Stabled (The Stables Trilogy #1) by Penny Lam Read Free Book Online

missed it.”
     
    This was the one area she didn’t feel modest in. When she’d studied the two disciplines, she had fallen into the books, the lectures, often speaking to her professors at length outside of class. Her need to please had driven her to learn as much as possible. She wasn’t an authority, but she felt confident when discussing art. It was the one place her anxiety didn’t try to strangle her.
     
    “I’m the artist,” J.B. murmured. “Of the abstract paintings, at least.”
     
    Her throat constricted, making it hard to breathe. She was stunned. Apparently even in this she was susceptible to her crippling self doubt. The army of thoughts barrelled in. Did I offend him? Why did I say anything? Will he fire me now? What do I even know, maybe he just likes to paint black shit on canvas? A cowboy artist? Who the fuck does that? Oh God, I did offend him, I just know it. Can I just get up and leave--
     
    “You’re observations were correct. They are a celebration.” He didn’t elaborate and no amount of curiosity would spur Maple into asking now. Her cheeks and neck were burning and she escaped into the paperwork, unable to continue the conversation with J.B.
     
    She pictured him standing in front of a giant, blank canvas. At his feet a bucket of black, ready to stain the pristine white. To alter it forever, each stroke of his brush claiming it as his.
     
    One set of papers--the largest one-- grabbed her attention. “An NDA? Why do I need to sign this?”
     
    J.B. leaned back in his chair, hooking an ankle on his knee. Sitting like that showed how muscular he was. His shirt buttons stretched across his chest, his jeans pulled tight against his hips and thighs and--
     
    “It’s no secret I’m a wealthy man, Maple. My father started as a hundred-head ranch. Before he passed it on to me, he had well over ten thousand head of cattle, and he was dabbling in oil. At the time, it was worth millions. Now, under my hand, it’s worth billions.” He rubbed his stubble, scrubbing away some errant thought. “I’m not telling you this to brag. I’m saying it because one doesn’t become this wealthy without some secrets. If you’re my employee, I expect you to keep them.”
     
    She started to get caught up in the word ‘secrets’ when something else grabbed her attention. “Your accent is gone.” He’d said more to her since finding her with the art than he had all day. On the phone and in the stable, he’d had a strong West Texas accent.
     
    “So’s yours,” he smirked. “I reckon it’s for the same reason, too. Out here, it helps to hide our differences.”
     
    Oh, he didn’t know the half of it. Maple found a soft, small delight in knowing they had this, and the art, in common. And secrets-- they had secrets in common. Of course, she was still mortified over her analysis of his work, but he hadn’t kicked her out of his home, or called her names, or done, well, anything to her.
     
    It was strange not being scolded for speaking up, like her parents had, or punished for it, like Tony did. If anything, it felt as if J.B. was encouraging her to step out of her shell. It was exciting to have someone interested in her opinion. But instinct made her want to clamp down and withdraw, because it also made her feel exposed and under scrutiny.
     
    She signed the NDA and the other paperwork quickly.
     
    “When did you finish school, Maple?” he asked as he took it, made photocopies, and gave her the copies.
     
    “I didn’t.” Maple didn’t want to discuss it. Too many questions. While she was intrigued by his secrets, she wanted to guard her own heavily.
     
    He pushed the issue. “Why?
     
    “College turned out to not be for me.”
     
    He gauged her then, scrutinizing her face. Her ears burned. “That’s a lie, Maple. I’ll let it go, because this is just chat, but don’t lie to me again.”
     
    Maple swallowed hard. How could she respond to that? How did he know how much she