All the starch went out of Jake’s spine. He’d never been so glad to see anyone in all his life. This morning, she was wearing that pretty yellow top he’d glimpsed last night and the same pair of jeans. The yellow cotton knit skimmed her figure like sunshine. The scoop neckline dipped low, revealing the tantalizing swell of her breasts. She looked young and beautiful and so sweet she made his heart catch.
He shoved his other arm into the sleeve of his shirt. “I thought you were gone.”
A bewildered look came into her eyes. “Gone where?”
Jake couldn’t help himself. He was across the kitchen in three strides. “Don’t even think about leaving. Do you hear me, Molly?” He grabbed her up into his arms. “You scared the sand right out of me.”
She gave a startled squeak as her feet cleared the floor. Jake felt the wet rag flop against his nape as she grabbed hold of his neck.
“My watch. You put it in my jeans. I thought you’d left.” Jake hugged her close, so relieved to know she was still there and safe that he wanted to squeeze the breath right out of her. “You’re not going anywhere, lady. Get that thought straight out of your head.”
“But, Jake, I—”
“I mean it. I’ll dismantle the whole damned Toyota and scatter the parts from hell to breakfast. You’re staying put.” He pressed his face to the curve of her neck, loving the smell of her, a blend of lotion, talc, and feminine essence that was exclusively her own. Sunshine and wildflowers. God, how he loved her. With each passing day, the feeling grew more intense. It was almost frightening to care so much about someone. “No arguments.”
“I’m not arguing.” She laughed shakily. “I didn’t return the watch because I plan to leave. Not any time soon, anyway.”
Jake went still. “You didn’t?”
She leaned her head back, trying to see his face. “No. I just don’t need to keep it anymore, and I figured you’d feel better if you had it back. A family heirloom like that is irreplaceable.”
Jake straightened to search her eyes. “It was your only guarantee that I’d keep my word and not contact the authorities. Your collateral, remember? If you aren’t planning to leave, why don’t you need it anymore?”
Steadying herself by gripping his shoulders, she arched her spine to put distance between their chests. The rag, still in her right hand, trailed wetly down his sleeve. Jake didn’t care. All that mattered was that she was there, that he could hold her like this and protect her if it became necessary.
She was everything he’d ever wanted. Absolutely everything.
“I don’t need collateral anymore. Your word alone is enough.” A suspicious shimmer came into her eyes. “I realize that now. You aren’t the kind of man who breaks his promises.”
Her expression told him more than she could know. He wasn’t the only one who’d fallen in love.
“Thank you. That’s one of the nicest things anyone’s ever said to me.”
He wanted so badly to kiss her then. Memories of that day in the woods hurtled through his mind—how sweetly she had responded to him, how she had melted against him, offering no resistance. Not three feet away, the kitchen counter beckoned, offering a perfect stage for another seduction. The other men were already out working. They were alone in the house. He could deposit her on the edge of the counter, kiss her until she went boneless, and then peel away all those clothes. He yearned to kiss her beautiful breasts, this time without two layers of cotton to shield her nipples, and hear her gasp with pleasure. And, oh, God, how he wished he could curl his hands over her bare bottom. He could feel the sweet warmth of her skin even through her jeans.
“I thought maybe—I don’t know—that something I said yesterday had upset you, and you’d decided to leave.”
“Nothing upset me that much.”
He was beginning to feel a little foolish, but he was loath to release her now that he had her in his arms again. “Promise me something?”
“What?”
“That you’ll never leave without telling me, no matter what happens.”
“I won’t,” she said solemnly.
“Do you promise?”
“I promise. I’ll at least tell you I’m going first.”
In which case, he would do everything in his power to stop her, he thought fiercely.
“I’m sorry I frightened you,” she said. “I couldn’t think how to explain about the watch, so yesterday morning when I did laundry, I just slipped it into your clean jeans where I knew you’d be sure to find it.”
She had explained herself quite eloquently. “Your word alone is enough.” That she had come to trust him so much meant more to him than he could say. He threw a last, yearning look at the counter, then loosened his hold on her, letting her slide down his body until her feet touched the floor. The feeling of all her ample softness abrading his hardness almost snapped his control.
Ah, but he was a patient man, and some things were better if you waited. When he made love to this lady, he wanted everything to be perfectly right.
After cleaning the kitchen and doing her household chores, which took her until well past noon, Molly started washing the windows, a task she’d been putting off in favor of more pressing jobs. She had moved outside and completed about half of the lower story panes when she heard Jake saying, “Whoa. Easy boy.” Her heart caught, for she knew the instant she heard his voice that he was working with Sunset.
Molly descended the ladder and sneaked around the corner of the house to watch. Man and horse stood stock still, facing each other, like two pugilists waiting for the bell to ring. Until now, Jake had always sat quietly in one corner of the pen. Since that first day, he hadn’t tried to approach the stallion again.
Fascinated, she climbed the steps and leaned against the porch post to watch. On the afternoon breeze, she could hear the rise and fall of Jake’s voice but couldn’t make out all he said. Sunset cocked his ears, then snorted and shook his head. Jake only smiled and kept talking.
After a moment, Molly gave up trying to hear exactly what he said. The words themselves didn’t matter. The unthreatening way he stood was eloquent, his tone of voice conveying everything.
Sunset was nervous. The muscles in his flanks quivered, and he lowered his head, a sign of equine subservience, according to what Jake had told her. Glancing at the man, Molly decided she would surrender, too, if she were Sunset. Jake looked tall, strong, and ready for anything, a fearful opponent, indeed.
Keeping up a steady stream of assurances, Jake slowly sidled up to the horse. It was a beautiful, warm afternoon that made the thought of lazing about in the sunshine sound far more appealing than window washing. Molly considered the half-finished pane she’d so abruptly abandoned and told herself she really should go back to work. Fascination with the man, the horse, and the bonding that was about to take place had her sinking down onto a step instead.
After watching Jake for a moment, she knew he meant to touch Sunset today. Gaze fixed, heart pounding, she hugged her knees. He stood with his head bent, his face slightly averted, his arms spread. As he raised his hand toward Sunset’s neck, the stallion quivered from chest to rump, and his snorts turned to a plaintive nickering.
“I know,” she heard Jake say.
And then he was touching the horse’s neck, his palm barely grazing the glistening black coat. Molly held her breath.
“I know,” Jake said again. “But it’s okay, Sunset. That’s all over. No one is going to hurt you again.”
Sunset whickered and shifted. Slipping his hand under the stallion’s neck, Jake stepped in closer until they stood shoulder to shoulder. As if the contact were simply too much, Sunset wheeled away. Jake let him go, turning to keep the horse in sight. After circling the corral several times, Sunset stopped and turned to face him again.
And Jake began the entire process over.
An hour later, Molly still huddled on the step, watching. She had long since lost count of how many times Jake had approached the stallion, touch
ed him, and then lost him again. She’d never seen anyone with such patience. One tiny step forward, a gigantic step back. He’d told her once that horse training was very like a courtship, and she saw now that it was true. Jake didn’t seem to mind that he was making no progress. He was content to repeat the same steps as many times as Sunset needed him to repeat them.
Tears filled Molly’s eyes. Jake. She thought of all the nosegays and other little surprises he’d left on her doorstep. Her fireplace mantel was cluttered with pretty stones, colorful feathers, and parched blossoms. “Sweet nothings,” he always said with a shrug when she thanked him. Molly disagreed. Those silly sweet nothings meant the world to her.
He was like no other individual she’d ever known. Horse whisperer or ordinary man, it no longer mattered. As he approached Sunset, she could almost feel his gentleness and concern. He had a very special gift, an air about him that worked past barriers and touched in a way that even a terrified horse couldn’t resist.
“Come down here, Molly,” he suddenly called.
She snapped erect. She hadn’t realized he knew she was there.
“Come on,” he called again.
Her legs had grown stiff. She pushed slowly up from the step. By the time she reached the corral, Jake had scaled the fence and stood outside. He smiled when she walked up to him.
“You’ve seen how it’s done. Now you try it.”
“Oh, no, I—”
He caught her chin on the edge of his hand, his gaze locking with hers. “You said this morning that you trust my word. Do you?”
“Yes, of course, but—”
“He won’t hurt you. You’ve got my word on it.”
“How can you know?”
Jake released her chin and turned his gaze toward the horse. “I feel it.”
“You feel it?” Molly was tempted to laugh, only then she recalled the many times she’d seen him out in the fields, working with other horses. A silent communication seemed to take place between him and a horse that couldn’t be explained by everyday standards, but was no less real.
Molly searched his gaze, all her senses suddenly acute. Trust. She’d sworn to never give hers blindly again.
“The whole time I’ve been working with him, I’ve caught him looking your way. That horse worships you, honey.”
Molly gulped. She had come to trust Jake Coulter in a way she hadn’t imagined might be possible when she first arrived, but she wasn’t sure she trusted him so much she was willing to put her life on the line.
Molly was trembling so badly, she could barely climb over the fence. Sunset didn’t help matters any. The moment she invaded his pen, he began grunting and sidestepping. Molly hung halfway down the inside rails, looking over her shoulder at the stallion, convinced he would trample her the instant her feet touched the ground.
“He’s only talking to you,” Jake assured her.
“What’s he saying?” she asked shrilly.
Jake came to rest his arms on a rail and gazed over the fence at the horse. “He’s saying it’s about time you came in to visit him. He’s been waiting and waiting. Isn’t it just like a woman to drag her feet?”
Molly didn’t believe for a minute that Jake knew what the horse was thinking, but she drew strength from the twinkling amusement in his eyes. If she knew nothing else about him, she believed he was a good and kind man. He wouldn’t be laughing if he thought she were about to get hurt.
Trust. It kept coming back to that. Where men were involved, it didn’t come easily to her. When she had awakened from a drug-induced stupor to find herself in a clinic for the emotionally ill, she’d lost her faith in the benevolent nature of the male of her species.
Now, here she was, at another crossroads. Jake was asking her to trust him with her safety, possibly even her life. If he was wrong—oh, God, if he was wrong—she would never be fleet enough of foot to escape before the stallion did her serious injury.
Her feet connected with the dirt. Molly gulped. It was all she could do to relax her grip on the fence rail. On legs that threatened to buckle, she turned to face the horse.
“His h-head is up,” she said in a wobbly voice. “He’s not subservient.”
“No,” Jake agreed softly. “Would you just look at that?”
Molly was looking, and she almost wet her pants. The stallion whickered, threw his massive head, and pawed the dirt with a front hoof. “Oh, God!”
“Sweetheart, he isn’t afraid of you. Look at him. That’s a welcome sight, if ever I saw one. He’s just telling you hello.”
“Oh.” Molly struggled to swallow. “Hello, Sunset.”
The stallion grunted and high-stepped in a figure eight at his end of the pen, his tail lifted high. When he wheeled to a stop, he whickered and threw his head again.
“Ah, Molly,” Jake murmured. “Go to him.”
She groped behind her for the fence rail….Nothing. “I, um … maybe it’d be better if I wait for him to come to me.”
“Just take it slow. You watched me. You know how to do it.”
“Sort of sideways?”
“If you like. I’m not sure that’s necessary. That’s my signal to him that I mean him no harm. I think he already knows that you don’t.”
Molly figured the stallion probably wasn’t afraid of her because she was so pathetically unthreatening, a plump woman of diminutive stature who tripped over her own feet.
“One slow step at a time,” Jake whispered. “Go to him.”
Molly took one step. Sunset blew through his nose and scared her half to death. “What’s that mean?”
“Nothing. He’s just talking to you.”
“What’s he saying this time?” She took another step. “I’m really not cut out for this, you know. What’ll I do when I reach him?”
“Just pet him.”
“Don’t horses bite?”
“He won’t bite you.”
Molly prayed not. Sunset had gigantic teeth. She took another step, then another. The horse stopped prancing and stood stock still, his head still lifted high, his ears cocked forward.
“Talk to him,” Jake instructed. “Reassure him.”
“Hello, Sunset,” Molly called in a quivery trill. “Don’t kill me. Okay?” She took another step. “I, um … don’t know anything about horses, you know. Make my first experience a pleasant one.” She took several more steps and ran out of courage. “I can’t, Jake. I just can’t. He’s so big.“
“You’re better than halfway. You can do it.”
“No. I think maybe …” The horse took a step toward her. “Oh, dear. Jake?”
“I’ll be damned,” he said when the horse took another step. “Will you just look at that. Stand tight, Molly. He’s as wary as you are. Don’t frighten him by making any sudden movements.”
Molly seriously doubted the horse was as wary as she was. He outweighed her by a goodly amount, and he had hooves and teeth.
Step by hesitant step, Sunset closed the remaining distance. When he reached Molly, he sniffed her chest. Then he simply stood there with his great head hanging.
Molly was no expert on horses, but even she could interpret this body language. Inexpressible weariness rolled off the stallion in waves. Her gaze shifted to his poor, abused body. From close range, she could see where the whip had sliced deeply into his flesh. Some of the wounds would leave vicious scars, and she knew the deep ones that hadn’t yet healed must still hurt terribly.
“Oh, Sunset,” she whispered. “I’m so sorry he did this. I’m so sorry.”
The horse grunted and nudged her hand. His nose felt as soft as velvet. Molly turned her wrist to touch his muzzle with her fingertips. Sunset wiggled his lip, tickling her skin.
Just like that, the fear left Molly. Sunset wanted her as his friend. Not Jake, but her. Trembling, she ran her fingers up the center of his nose. She hadn’t realized until now that horses had eyelashes. Sunset had long, sooty ones, and soulful brown eyes that pleaded with her. She touched the silky
tufts at the base of his ears, then fingered his mane, which was coarse and heavy, the texture of the strands reminding her of raw silk.
“You’re beautiful,” she whispered in awe. “You’re so beautiful, Sunset.” Growing braver, Molly stretched out a hand to touch his neck, then she stepped closer to gently stroke his shoulder, taking care to avoid his lacerations. “Good boy. You’re such a love.”
From behind her, Jake said, “You’ve got your work cut out for you today. Those cuts need disinfectant and salve. The ones that haven’t healed are starting to ooze puss.”
Molly could see that they were, a sign that mild infection had set in. “He needs antibiotics.”
“I have some penicillin in the stable fridge. Maybe later, when you’re feeling more at ease, you can give him an injection. For now, it’ll be a step forward just to clean them.”
“You want me to do it?” she asked incredulously.
“No one else can touch him,” was Jake’s reply. “His vote carries the day, honey, and he’s chosen you.”
Molly had never been chosen for much of anything. In grade school, she’d been thin and undersized. None of the other kids had ever called her name when they were teaming up for sports. As she’d grown older, she’d become a bookworm, exacerbating the problem.
Warmth spread through her—a wonderful, uplifting feeling of warmth. Sunset had chosen her. Jake was far more qualified. He knew how to doctor horses, how to give injections. He was an all around expert, while she knew absolutely nothing. But Sunset had chosen her.
“I’m going to run and get you some disinfectant and cotton. Two things for you to remember. Don’t step behind him, ever. Horses can’t see behind them, and they sometimes kick out. Another thing to bear in mind, always, is that he’s got binocular vision in front, monocular to the side. When you stand near his rump, it’s hard for him to see you unless he turns his head. Keep a hand on him so he knows where you are and talk to him a lot so he can keep track of your voice. A large percentage of the time when horses injure humans, it’s because the humans do something stupid.”