Vivian Arend - Rocky Mountain Rebel

“You okay?” Joel leaned down and peered at her. “You’re this weird shade of green. Breakfast not agreeing with you?”

“Didn’t eat anything,” she confessed. “I was afraid I’d lose it.”

He swore. “It’s ten o’clock, and you haven’t eaten?”

She wondered at the annoyance in his voice. It was just a meal. “Trust me, it’s not the first time I’ve gone without breakfast. I’ll live.”

He examined her closer, top to bottom, and she tried not to wiggle. His examination wasn’t sexual, but damn if she didn’t want it to be. At least when his gaze was rolling over her, she could put hell horses on the backburner and ignore part of what she was there for.

He finished his nonsexual, but still stimulating perusal by staring at her feet. He shook his head. “You don’t have any cowboy boots, do you?”

She snorted. “Umm, no.”

“Fine. Today you can wear these, but we’ll have to get you some real boots.”

Right. She’d checked before. Not because of the horse thing, but because she liked how they looked. Too expensive for her pocketbook. “I’ll poke around.”

Maybe there would be some used ones at the thrift store. Salvation Army or somewhere.

That’s when she finally registered what he was holding out. “Rubber boots?”

He twisted his feet forward to show off the pair he wore. “The finest bit of footwear on any ranch.”

She eyed the black monstrosities suspiciously. “To ride a horse?”

He shook his head. “You’re not riding today.”

“Oh, thank God.”

The words burst free about the time his laughter surrounded her, and he led her back to a bench, squatting to pull off her runners. He held the floppy tops of the rubber boots open. “Nope, you don’t have to worry about the big smelly beasts for today. So relax, and enjoy your lesson, okay?”

Now she wished she’d eaten breakfast.

It was more than a little distracting to have him kneeling in front of her. Another opportunity to have their heads at about the same height. He was this enormous mass of a man, and the stroke of his hand over her sole as he straightened her damn sock shouldn’t have felt so good. The way the back of his knuckles rubbed her calf as he held the boot steady and she pushed her foot in was downright sinful.

She leaned forward on the second boot, her hand on his shoulder for balance, close enough his scent surrounded her.

Wow. Putting on rubber boots with Joel Coleman was making her motor run. Was she pathetic or what?

But stupid? She didn’t want to be that. So instead of kicking herself in the ass for being a little too fast off the starting gate with her hormones, she decided to enjoy it. He smelt good as she took a deep breath, the scent of soap fading, the masculine aroma of a man who’d been moving all morning rising. He hadn’t reached the sweaty stage yet, just smelt like Joel.

She resisted licking his neck. That was good.

Joel broke the easy silence between them. “Ready for your first lesson?”

“If there’s no actual riding involved, I’m as ready as I can get.”

“You’ll be happy to know there’s no actual horses involved either.” Joel stood and held out his hand.

No horses? She was nearly distracted enough by his words to miss that first second of slipping her hand into his.

Nearly, but not quite. She’d spent too much time last night fantasizing about his hands to ignore it entirely. Her fingers vanished into his hand as he curled tight around hers and tugged her down the hall. “We’re gonna start at the beginning. Welcome to day one.”

He stopped beside a boxlike space, one of about ten in a row. Each had a gate at the front made of wooden slats, openings between them. Wood shavings littered the floor and off to one side was an unmistakable pile of crap that stank to high heaven.

Joel let her fingers go to grab something leaning up against the next gate.

The pleased expression on his face when he turned back was the only thing that stopped her from kicking him into tomorrow. Especially when he held out the mystery object—a shovel—and announced, “Lesson one. Cleaning stalls.”

Maybe he should have worn a cup. The flash of rage in her eyes shocked him with its intensity.

Then, in the next breath, all was calm. She stared at the floor, her shoulders shaking slightly. “I’ll shovel shit forever to avoid the actual horses.”

Joel grabbed his own shovel. “Well, it might not be the method they’d use at some fancy training school, but you said to teach you what I know. I’ve hung out in these barns since I was little, following my dad and brothers. Taking care of the animals and doing chores. I didn’t start with the big smelly beasts.”

She lifted her head and smiled as she clung to the shovel handle, using it to hold herself vertical. “You gonna call them that all the time now, just to tease me?”

He grinned his answer. “For the next while we’ll take it easy. You got until May to get ready, so there’s no rush, right?”

She eyed the line of stalls warily. “I’m gonna be working full time. I can’t be over here doing your chores every spare moment I get.”

“No, you’re not. ’Cause you and me are also going on the town. Plus spending other time together.” Her pulse quickened—he saw it in the curve of where her neck and shoulder met. Hell yeah, his body tightened as he considered what was coming in the days ahead. “You’re going to get used to the animals slowly, and every time you accomplish the next task, you get a reward.”

His sister-in-law had been right. Everyone liked an incentive, and by the way her eyes lit up, it seemed Vicki was no different.

“What kind of things you got in mind?”

“We’ll make some of them up as we go along. Today? You get this task done and I’ll give you a surprise.”

“You’re not even going to tell me what it is?” Her lower lip was out, and it was so damn adorable he nearly reconsidered.

“I can tell you you’ll like it.” He hoped she’d like it. This part of the planning was worse than figuring out what lesson to give her with the horses.

He wanted to lift her to the top of the railing and consume her like a feast. Kiss her until she gasped for air, hold her squirming self to his body and let her rub all over until his cock gave up aching.

Going slow was necessary for dealing with the horses, but hell if going slow sexually wasn’t going to kill him.

Her nose wrinkled. “Okay, teach me, but don’t try to tell me this doesn’t stink.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” Joel showed her where to find the latch to open the gate. He moved a wheelbarrow into position. “Just think. When you go home after a long day of work, wouldn’t it be nice to have a clean bed and a cool drink waiting for you?”

“You got French-maid fantasies. Nice.”

He laughed. “While you’re missing the French-maid costume, you do get to make beds.”

He showed her how to clean the mess into the wheelbarrow, then he pushed it outside for her the first time.

“Oh, man.” Vicki fanned a hand in front of her face.

“Come on.” He left the full barrow for a moment and walked her around to the garden side of the manure pile. “This part doesn’t smell as much. It’s wonderful compost now that it’s aged. We turn it over in the fall and by the spring it’ll be ready to be worked into the garden.”

Vicki raised a brow before a full-fledged snicker broke free.

“What?”

She clutched her hands over her chest dramatically and stared into the sky. “Be still, my beating heart, for I am a-swoon with delight. My new boyfriend showed me a compost pile.”

Joel smirked. “It’s one of the ‘little things’ you’ve always wanted to experience, admit it.”

Her eyes sparkled. “It’s been on the list forevah. What other secrets you gonna share while we toil with the behind-the-scenes shit?”

“Ha ha. Watch and learn, my young Padawan.”

Joel helped her empty the heavy wheelbarrow, then took her to the pile of shavings to fill up a load. She tipped the bedding to the floor in her cleared stall, but barely got the oversized contraption back to vertical.

“I don’t suppose you have any junior-sized barrows?”

Joel shook his head.

She spread the shavings with the pitchfork, a little awkward with the length of the shaft compared to her arm reach, but she didn’t complain. Joel watched her for a minute to make sure she had it, but cleaning stalls wasn’t rocket science, so he went back to work as well.

They continued at their tasks, chatting over the stall walls. Joel had a good time working alongside her. For a novice, she did a decent job. Never complained, didn’t take breaks or try to shortcut. She put her back to the task, wrinkled-nose expression firmly in place, and got it done.

She’d gone quiet in the past ten minutes. Still bouncing, but her energy directed toward finishing. And the expression on her face when he caught a glimpse was no longer as if she were holding her breath, but more as if she was having fun.

Well, what do you know?

They finished about the same time. Joel stepped behind her as Vicki laid a hand on the sidewall of the stall and leaned in. She breathed deeply, and he laughed.

Vicki twisted. “Fucking hell, can we put a bell on you or something?”

“I must be seeing things, because I coulda swore you just sniffed the wall.”

She gave him a hesitant smile. “Okay, it doesn’t stink so bad anymore, so I was, you know, curious. How can it make that much difference we hauled the shit out and, voila, everything is roses?”

“It’s the new bedding. We replaced one scent with another.” He took the pitchfork from her and put it aside. “Admit it. It smells good now.”

“I’m not going to go that far.” Vicki shook her head. “If you bottled eau de barn, I doubt it would be a big seller.”

“You’d be surprised.”

“Speaking of surprises…” Vicki held up a hand to put her work on display. “I finished, boss. What do I get?”

He tugged on her sweatshirt sleeve. “Take this off.”

Eyes going wide, Vicki grabbed the bottom and lifted it over her head without a word. As her tank top came into view, Joel decided life was damn good. This might be a reward for her, but he was going to enjoy it too.

He tilted his head toward the stall where they stored extra hay to have it conveniently on hand. The pile was running low, leaving only a few bales, which was exactly what he needed right now. He’d placed a thick horse blanket over the pokey surface. “Have a seat.”

She hesitated for a second before dropping to the bale and facing him. He reached to the top of the post where earlier he’d placed the jar of cream.

“What’s the surprise, Joel? You’re making me nervous.”

“Trust me. You’ll like it.”

Vicki muttered under her breath, but let him step behind her without any more questions. He straddled the bale, scooped up a couple fingers worth of cream and rubbed his hands together. “Pull your hair out of the way,” he ordered.

She gathered it together and hauled the long strands forward, and once again he got caught in her freckles. He slipped his hands over her neck and shoulders, distributing the cream evenly before going back and working it in, using his thumbs to add pressure.

“Oh God, a massage? Yes, of course I’ll clean your horse poop for a massage.” She groaned, tilting her neck forward. “You should have told me. I’d have done your share of the work as well.”

Good firm muscles flexed in her arms and shoulders. Real strength, not fashion-thin soft arms. “You worked hard, I don’t want you to be sore tomorrow.”

She fell silent for a bit, well, not noiseless, but no words. Plenty of sounds, though. Moans and groans and little exhalations of pleasure, and right on schedule, Joel’s hard-on arrived. He ignored it best he could. Figured he was going to spend a lot of the next month or so jerking off in the shower after he’d finished spending time with Vicki.

He traced a finger along her spine, softer now, wanting to feel her reactions. Get her accustomed to his touch. She leaned back when he lifted his hand away, as if attempting to stay in contact.

“Turn and face me.” It was asking for trouble, but what the hell. Live dangerously.

Vicki twisted on the spot, her legs tucked in front of her like she was unsure where to put them. Joel reloaded with cream before he reached for one arm. “Drape your legs over my thighs. I want to do your arms.”