Chapter 11
CHAPTER ELEVEN
REECE
Y esterday had definitely not gone to plan. I’d been so determined to talk to Booker, but the news about the foal had completely thrown me off track, and I’d got lost in the work instead.
Part of me was grateful for that. Not because I hadn’t got the chance to tell him how I felt, but because I’d finally felt like I was some use around here.
I still hadn’t thought of a name for the mare yet. It felt like something I needed to put a lot of thought into. She’d been through so much that she deserved a good name. I just couldn’t figure out what that was.
She’d been so stressed out and tired after we’d washed her down and treated the sores again that Booker said we needed to wait until today to deal with her hooves. I had no idea what that entailed, but I was ready to get to work again.
I slipped my feet into my soggy sneakers and winced. They still hadn’t dried out from the horse bath we’d all ended up having yesterday. My skills were a little lacking in that department, but Booker hadn’t once lost his temper with me, and we were both as wet as the horse by the end.
I needed to get some more shoes, something more suited to working outdoors. It would have to wait, though. I didn’t want to take anything else from Booker that I hadn’t earned yet. I hadn’t even been here a week, and I was still learning so much that most of the time I figured it would have been easier for Booker if I wasn’t here.
I’d yet to figure out what time Booker started work, and I was leaving the house half an hour earlier every morning until I found out. Which was why I slipped out the door of the cottage at seven thirty a.m. and headed to the barn.
I was still too late, though, because Booker was already set up with the mare just outside the barn, and my feet stumbled to a stop when he came into view.
Holy hot cowboy!
I was pretty sure my ovaries just exploded, and I knew my mouth was most definitely hanging open, but I seemed to have lost control of all of my muscles at once as my brain latched onto the sight in front of me.
There was a van I’d never seen before pulled up in front of the barn, and the back doors hung open, revealing an array of tools.
That wasn’t what had made my hormones go haywire, though.
Because Booker was already hard at work and, judging from the sheen of sweat coating his muscles, he’d been at it for a while already. He’d stripped down to a white tank, had a pair of wide leather chaps over his jeans, and his usual hat perched on top of his head.
And it was glorious.
Booker reached down, running his hand down the mare’s leg before she lifted her hoof for him. His muscles flexed as he inspected the curled hoof that was causing the mare so much pain.
Booker was so gentle with her. His big hands ran carefully over her skin as his muscles bunched and flexed, gleaming in the sun.
“You started without me,” I gasped when I saw one perfect-looking hoof on the mare. “Oh, that looks so much better. Does that feel good, girl,” I cooed as I moved to her head.
The mare nuzzled her face against the flat of my hand, and I smiled, my mind mostly on the beautiful man in front of me.
“I wanted to get started before the day heats up,” Booker said, not lifting his head to make eye contact with me until he gently put the mare’s hoof back on the ground.
“I could have helped.”
“I don’t need your help with this bit.”
My fists landed on my waist as I squinted in annoyance at him. “I need to learn this stuff if it’s going to be my job.”
“It takes years to learn the proper farrier skills to deal with something like this. What you need to do is rest and heal.” He glared back at me, almost daring me to deny it.
“I’m fine.”
“Then lift your shirt and show me your ribs,” he challenged, picking up a saw off the ground and balancing it on his shoulder as he raised an eyebrow at me.
He probably wouldn’t be saying stuff like that if he knew I’d just been drooling all over him. Still, part of me wanted to pull all my clothes off just to see what he’d do. I still wouldn’t be winning the argument we were having right now, though, because he was right. The bruising on my ribs had turned that mottled yellow of its final stage, which inexplicably seemed to make it look even worse.
“I’m fine,” I stressed, apparently deciding that the best way out of this was to dig this hole even deeper. “It doesn’t even hurt when I breathe anymore.”
Booker snorted out a laugh at that. “Really? That’s the level we’re measuring fine up against now?”
He had a point.
“I’m not broken, Booker. I might be down and a bit bruised around the edges, but I’m still the same person I always was. I don’t need you to treat me like a delicate butterfly that’s going to be crushed in your hands.”
He blinked slowly, his tongue coming out to run along his bottom lip, and I realized what I’d said. The implication beneath my words.
Because I wanted to know what it felt like to have his hands on me.
“Stay at her head. Keep talking to her,” he said, running his hand down the mare’s leg again to pick up her foot.
But when he moved the saw to her hoof, I panicked. “What are you doing?”
He peered up at me with a wry smile on his face. “I’m not cutting her leg off. I’m trimming her hooves.”
“With a saw?”
“It’s too thick to get the nippers through, and it would take too long. I cut here and take the bulk of the hoof where it’s curled back on itself, and then I can shape it with the file and the nippers.”
I nodded like I had any idea what he was talking about, not entirely sure that I had the guts to watch what he was about to do. What if the saw slipped, and he cut her leg?
“We’re going to be brave, okay?” I said, turning back to the mare and running a hand over her neck. “I’m pretty sure Booker knows what he’s doing.”
I heard his snort of laughter and then the sound of the saw cutting.
“Maybe don’t look,” I whispered to her. “If you need me to, I’ll look for you.”
The mare blinked, and I swear I saw some judgment in her eyes. “I’m only looking out for you,” I objected.
I scratched behind one of her ears, and the mare leaned into me. She was such a sweet thing. I didn’t see how anyone could have treated her the way they had. How they could have hurt her and then thrown her away like she was nothing.
We had more in common than I really wanted to admit. Except I hadn’t been fortunate enough to be thrown away.
It felt like hours passed as I gently ran my hands over the mare and whispered words of encouragement to her. All that time the steady sound of the saw working through the hoof that hurt her so much scratched across the background, proving that Booker was the type of guy who would do what was needed to fix the things that hurt you. Not that I’d needed any more proof of that. I was proof enough.
“Have you spoken to your brother since he came to the ranch?” I asked, probably to distract myself.
“Yes.”
I could hear the strain in his voice and peeked around the mare’s head to see how much further he had left to go. As I did, he finally made it through, and the gnarled end of the overgrown hoof dropped to the ground.
“Wow.”
Booker looked up with a grin, and it hit me full force. Damn, this grumpy man didn’t smile often, but when he did, it was beautiful.
“Will you pass me that rasp?” he asked, nodding toward the back of the van.
“Erm.” I stepped over to the open doors and looked at the array of torture equipment, completely lost what any of it was for, let alone what it was called.
“The file. On the left,” Booker added.
“This giant nail file thing?” I asked, holding up what I was pretty sure he was asking for.
“Sure.” He laughed. “Pass me the nail file.”
I passed the tool to him as he shook his head and then, with both hands on the rasp and the hoof held between his thighs, he started to file it down.
“Is he okay?” I asked.
Booker paused and looked up at me with a frown. “Who?”
“Your brother?”
“Xander? Yeah, I think so. Why?”
“Just seemed like if you didn’t know he was coming, and he came over, and that he might not have been okay, you know?”
Booker’s frown deepened, and he seemed to think for a second. “He didn’t say anything.”
I could tell he was uncomfortable as he went back to work. But this was what I wanted for Booker. I knew I wouldn’t get to have someone like him in my life. I wasn’t that lucky. He was doing so much for me, though, and I wanted to repay the favor somehow. Helping him to stop pushing the people around him away was the perfect way to do that.
“Maybe you should call him.”
“I’m busy.”
I hummed in agreement and let him continue working, knowing I’d at least put the thought in his head.
“Can you pass me the nippers?” he asked quietly after a while, then added, “They look like big pinchers. Right-hand door.” He nodded toward an honestly terrifying-looking pliers-thingy, and I cringed as I grabbed it and passed it to him.
I watched in fascination as he trimmed and shaped the hoof, switching between the two tools until suddenly he had a hoof that actually looked like a hoof again.
Booker lowered the mare’s leg gently before he patted her side and stepped back. “Not bad,” he said quietly.
“Are you kidding? That’s incredible.”
The corner of his lips ticked up, and then he grabbed his tools and started to put them away.
“Aren’t you doing the back ones?” I asked in confusion.
“She’s been standing for a couple of hours out here, and she’s probably tired. I think we should give her a break and some feed.”
“Okay, do you want her back in the stable?”
“No, she’s doing okay out here. We’ll monitor her and see how she does.” Booker hesitated for a minute and then seemed to come to a decision. “Did you eat yet?”
I had. But I was always hungry at the moment. I’d spent too many months trying to starve myself into the perfect woman, and now I was enjoying my foodie freedom.
“I could eat.”
Booker nodded and turned to the house. “Grab a hay net for her and then come and have some breakfast at the house.”
He strode away before I could say anything.
I leaned back in my seat with a happy hum of contentment. Booker was an amazing cook when it came to breakfast foods.
The man in question chuckled as I patted my stomach in congratulations. Then I went to stand from the table.
“You cooked. I’ll do the dishes,” I said, standing and picking up my plate.
“No.” Booker took the plate out of my hands and went to pick up his own.
“I think you mean thank you,” I snarked, taking the plate back from him and trying to grab the serving dish from the center of the table.
“No.” He hit me with his trademark glare. “I mean, sit down and rest.”
“Are we back to this again?” My grip tightened on the plate as he tried to take it from me. “I’m perfectly capable of standing at a sink and washing some dishes.”
Booker sighed and finally wrestled the plate from my hand. “But you don’t need to.”
He gathered up the dishes and carried them to the sink.
“Fine. But if you’re washing, then I’m drying,” I argued, grabbing a cloth from the countertop and walking to his side.
Booker sighed in exasperation. “Can you just stop trying to fight me on everything?”
“Probably not,” I admitted.
He snorted in amusement. It was fast becoming my favorite sound. “Just relax, please?”
It was possibly the first please he’d ever uttered in my presence, and I should have been a better person and appreciated it for the gesture it was. Instead, a wicked grin slipped across my lips, and I pulled out a Booker classic.
“No.”
I turned to the sink and waited, but he didn’t start washing. Instead, he turned to face me and leaned a hip against the sink.
“You’re infuriating. Did you know that?”
“Coming from you, that’s an achievement.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You realize you’re the most infuriating person to ever walk the planet, right?”
“You’re the one who won’t accept that you’re hurt?”
“I’m not hurt!”
“If I wasn’t a decent human being, I’d dig a knuckle right into your ribs,” he snapped back.
“Well, I wish you weren’t!”
Booker’s forehead wrinkled in confusion. “What?”
“Will you just shut up and kiss me already, Booker!”
His head snapped back in surprise, and then a slow smile slid across his lips. “Thank fuck,” he muttered, grabbing hold of my waist and hauling me into his body as his mouth landed on mine.
My arms wrapped around his neck as I clung to him, letting him dominate the kiss in complete contrast to how gently his hands cradled me. Booker nipped at my bottom lip, soothing the skin with his tongue, which he pushed into my mouth to stroke along mine. All the while, his hands made a slow trail down my sides until he cupped them under my ass cheeks and lifted me up, erasing the fraction of a gap between us.
I took my time, tracing my fingertips across the muscles of his back as we kissed, making him shudder beneath me.
“We should stop,” Booker murmured, his mouth moving to my neck as he nipped at the skin.
“No. We definitely shouldn’t stop,” I gasped as he ran his tongue up my neck and sucked the lobe of my ear between his lips. “I don’t want to stop.”
“But you really are hurt,” he whispered against my skin as he ducked down and kissed along my chest where the neckline of my tank top lay.
“Please don’t treat me like I’m broken, Booker. I want you. I want every single piece you’re willing to give. It’s not because I think I owe you something, and it’s not because I’m trying to get something from you. You’re a wonderful, beautiful man, Booker. Why wouldn’t I want that in my life if I get a chance?”
Booker straightened to his full height, his hand pushing the blond hair away from my face.
“All I want to do is protect you,” he told me softly. “It would kill me if I hurt you.”
Booker cradled my cheeks in his hands and kissed me softly.
“You won’t hurt me, Booker. I trust you.”
He searched my eyes for a moment, and then he smiled that smile that made my insides set on fire.
Booker’s hands wrapped around my waist, and he picked me up so my legs wrapped around his hips. “Then let me show you how true that is,” he said, kissing me as he did.
Booker strode across the kitchen, sitting me down on the kitchen table, his hands coming to my jeans as he opened the fastening.
“Lift,” he instructed, and I lifted my hips so he could push my jeans and panties down along with them.
Booker’s lips came back to mine and smothered the groan that left my mouth as he took that opportunity to push his tongue inside my mouth.
There was no fight for dominance when it came to me and Booker. I was absolute putty in his hands. I trusted him.
My hands came to the edge of his undershirt, and I pulled it off, breaking away from his lips so he could take it off.
Booker was the most perfect man I’d ever seen, and for a moment, I trailed my fingers across his abs. “It’s not fair that you look like this,” I told him. “But I’m very glad that you do.”
His head fell back as he laughed, and I took the opportunity to quickly unfasten his jeans. He looked at me wryly, the corner of his lips twitching as he took over, slowly sliding the zipper down as I panted over him like a dog in heat.
But I was sadly disappointed when he stopped, leaving the jeans hanging open and not taking them off like I was desperate for him to do.
Instead, he pulled off my shirt and then ran his fingers across the edges of the lace on my bra before he pulled it down, exposing my breasts and licking his lips.
“It’s not fair that you look like this,” he whispered, looking back up into my eyes. “But I’m very glad that you do.” His fingers gently trailed across the yellowing bruising on my ribs then, and his expression turned sad. “I hate this, though.”
“I know.” My hands came to his cheeks, and I kissed him gently. “But that’s all in the past now.”
He nodded firmly in agreement. “Lie back, baby. Let me show you how a man is supposed to treat his woman.”
I laid back against the cold wood of the table. Booker gently picked up each of my ankles, putting my feet on the tabletop and spreading my legs wide.
He looked at me like a starving man facing his first-ever meal and licked his lips. His fingers trailed across my wet core and my back arched at just the slightest touch.
“I’m going to take my time with you, Reece,” he told me as he pulled up his chair and sat down. “And when I’m done, you won’t even remember his name.”
Booker ducked his head down and licked a line up my core. My hips shot up off the tabletop, and he gripped my hips, putting me back in place. I lifted my head off the wood and peered down my body at him, and he grinned.
“Stay still, baby. I’ve got work to do.”
And work he did. Booker slid two fingers inside me, making me gasp as his tongue went straight to my clit, teasing that little bundle of nerves as he worked his fingers in and out of me, hooking them up to brush against that spot inside me that made my toes curl.
He brought me to the edge again and again until my head was thrashing from side to side as I whimpered and begged for him to let me come.
“Please, please, Booker. I need it. I need it.”
“Patience, baby,” he crooned, kissing the inside of my thigh as his thumb came to my clit and worked me up into a frenzy once more. “I’ve got you. I’m going to make it so good for you that you’re going to fly.”
“Fly? I swear if you keep teasing me, I’m going to kick you in the face,” I panted.
I felt like I was vibrating. My skin was on fire, and every part of my body sang a tune that only Booker could play. I’d never experienced this before, and I was almost afraid of what would happen when he finally let me come.
“There’s the fire that I want to see,” he murmured before his head dropped between my legs and he sucked my clit between his lips. “Now come for me, Reece,” he whispered against my core.
Booker pumped his fingers faster inside me as he worked my clit with the flat of his tongue. His free hand wrapped around my thigh as he pushed my pussy against his face and feasted.
I swear my heart stopped. It skipped a beat as I balanced on the edge of what Booker had brought to life inside me. Every muscle inside me pulled taut as the inevitable rushed toward me.
And then I snapped.
My back arched as I screamed. Pleasure flashed through every nerve of my body, setting me on fire with white-hot flames of ecstasy.