Must Love Horses. Vicki Tharp

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СКАЧАТЬ burp the alphabet backwards. By thirteen I’d perfected my directional detonations…” And by twenty-three you were your company’s next best thing to a sniper. By twenty-seven you’d lost your leg, your career and your wife. Yeah, pretty fucking amazing.

      Her smile slipped from her face and she sat up. Water dripped onto her shirt. “There.” She pointed at his eyes. “What was that?”

      He wrapped the other towel around her shoulders. “What was what?”

      “What were you thinking right then? It was like someone kicked sand on your fire.”

      “It was nothing.”

      “Liar.”

      Suddenly he wanted a drink, wanted some pills, wanted to get the fuck out of his head.

      Her eyes held his, a dense, lush forest full of private, probing questions.

      Questions he had no intention of answering.

      “What about kissing?” Her eyes darted to his lips.

      His mental gears ground at the unexpected change in subject. It made him like her that much more. “What about it?”

      “Are you amazing at kissing?”

      “Uh…” His brain jumped the track trying to shift gears so fast.

      “If all the women you’ve kissed were given a multiple-choice test, would they say: A, Yowza, my toes curled and my insides went jiggly; B, It wasn’t as bad as kissing my brother; or C, I’d rather French my pug?”

      He nudged her legs apart, stepped between them, and cupped her jaw. “Kissing is very subjective.”

      “If you acquire an adequate polling size—”

      He leaned down and kissed her. He kissed her to shut her up, he kissed her to stay out of his head, he kissed her because he wanted to.

      Her lips were warm and dry from being out in the sun all day. She nipped and sucked his upper lip, diving in deep when he opened his mouth to hers. She was bold and voracious, exploring his lips, his teeth, his tongue. She smelled of dirt and horse sweat, and a lightness more intoxicating than the booze could ever be.

      He groaned when she wrapped her booted heels behind his ass and squeezed him closer. Because he wanted nothing more than to carry her to his bed and slowly, painstakingly explore every inch of her tight, lithe body. He broke the kiss.

      Her eyes remained closed, then fluttered open, a lazy, well-kissed smile spread across her lips. “Yowza.”

      A huff of a laugh escaped him. He pressed his forehead to hers while his racing heart slowed and they both caught their breath. He dropped his hands to her strong thighs and stroked the length of them—which didn’t help the whole wanting-to-go-caveman thing.

      When he could talk again, he said, “Yowza is right.”

      Her eyes explored his face. He felt everywhere her gaze landed, nose, cheeks, chin, lips. Back to his eyes.

      “Why are you looking at me like that?” she asked.

      “Like what?”

      “Like you’re waiting for me to wish it away, to take it back, to regret I kissed you.”

      “Do you? Regret it?”

      Seconds ticked by. Her eyes brightened from forest green to lush pasture. “About as much as I regret streaking at Aaron Edelstein’s bar mitzvah.”

      His heart shrunk by a third. “So…a lot?”

      “Aaron Edelstein was a pompous, pretentious prick. My streaking was the most excitement the town had seen in ages, and, as a bonus, my parents never made me go to an event I didn’t want to again. So, no regrets, not a sliver.”

      He smiled and helped her off the counter. “Good to know.”

      A few minutes later he had Sidney peroxided and all lubed up with a generous dose of triple antibiotic cream. “That should about do it.”

      “Thank—”

      Two heavy feet landed on the front porch and the cabin shuddered, snuffing out her just-kissed glow.

      “Oh no,” she said.

      The lever handle on the front door rattled and turned, and Sidney scrambled to her feet. The door slammed open, cracking against the wall and bouncing back. Sidney caught it on the backswing before it slapped Eli in the face. The horse brought a bold hoof inside.

      “Get out!” Sidney hollered, even though it looked like she was fighting the giggles. “Go. Get.” She waved her hands and shooed him back, step by step, until he had all four feet off the porch and on the dirt.

      She turned to Boomer and said, “Well, I guess my ride is here. Sorry about that.”

      Boomer stepped out onto the porch, tucking his thumbs into the front pockets of his jeans. Sidney tapped Eli on the knee. The horse’s legs folded like a card table and Sidney climbed on. She gently squeezed her horse forward with her calves. He squashed the prick of jealousy as he remembered how those heels had felt locked around his thighs.

      Sidney pointed to her head and said, “Thanks.”

      Boomer tipped an imaginary hat and watched the pair leave, Sidney’s hips swaying back and forth in step with the horse’s long, ambling strides. He stepped back into his cabin, where the scent of his shampoo and Sidney still lingered. He grabbed a short glass and a tall bottle of whiskey and poured himself three fingers. Because he liked the burn as the liquor went down, he poured himself two more.

      His first assessment of Sidney had been as spot on as a sniper’s bullet at point blank range. He breathed in deeply as her scent faded away. She smelled…she smelled exactly like trouble.

      * * * *

      The week passed in a blur of dust and sweat and cold meals eaten way too late and hot coffee drunk way too early. Too much work and not enough Bryan. Sidney had caught glimpses of him in the distance, nailing shingles on the top of one of the cabins, and had been with him and everyone else at mealtime.

      Shortly after breakfast, with the sun still low in the sky, the breeze blew with a teasing hint of warmth. The days were warming up fast as summer approached and the white caps on the mountain peaks slowly rolled up.

      In the round pen, Sidney worked Thing Two—the sorrel gelding with a blaze down his nose double the width as the other sorrel’s, Thing One.

      Though all the horses had progressed well since she’d increased the training to two-a-days, Two was the calmest, so she’d picked him to ride first.

      He was saddled and standing at the end of the reins like an old broke kid’s pony. She stepped forward and scratched the base of his neck with her fingernails. Two’s lips quivered as he bobbed his head and rocked side to side to make sure she got the itchiest spots.

      “Ready?” Bryan called from behind her.

      “Is СКАЧАТЬ