Chapter 4
Zara
Jesus Christ, this man gets hotter by the minute. I thought he looked amazing in his very tailored tux but seeing him in his dress down clothes. Hellfire . . . His T-shirt stretches across his chest, and you can just make out the muscle’s underneath. His shirt hangs open, and his jeans fit like they were specially made for him. Even his god damn boots are sexy. Slightly dirty but well looked after. Why am I getting jealous of his bloody boots?
Drew leads Jasmine back out of the stables and into the yard. I walk ahead and open the gate to the field. As I open the gate, I turn to face Drew, who is having a hard time with Jasmine. She doesn’t seem very happy about going anywhere right now. She’s pulling back, pushing him sideways, and she doesn’t look like the nice friendly horse I met yesterday.
“Is she okay?” I ask.
“Yeah, she’ll be fine, just a bit jittery,” he says, trying to hold on to her. Then he stands in front of her, kisses her nose, and whispers something I can’t quite hear. I’ve never seen anything like it in my life. She stops pushing, nods, and buries her head into his shoulder.
“Come on, Jazz, let’s see if this grass tastes as sweet as it looks.” He gently guides her towards the field, and as he reaches the gate, he lets her off the leading rein.
She slowly walks in and gradually breaks into a trot, then a canter, and before long, she’s flying around the field, kicking and bucking and looking so happy.
“So . . . you were going to tell me why you wanted a horse?” he asks as he closes the gate and locks it.
“Honestly . . . I didn’t want a horse. My father wants me to have one. He thinks that if I have responsibilities here then I will not be able to leave.”
“You mean move out?”
“Yeah, or go travelling or even spend a weekend away. I’m twenty-four and have never been anywhere without my parents. But you don’t have to worry about Jasmine. I’ll look after her, and I know I’ll fall in love with her. She’s beautiful, Mr. Blackmoore.”
“Please . . . call me Drew. Your father has the honour of calling me Mr. Blackmoore, not you.”
“I don’t think my father would like it. I should keep our . . . this . . . formal. Don’t you think?” I stutter, panicking.
“Formal? You mean businesslike?” he asks, raising his eyebrow.
“Yes, exactly.”
“Can I ask you another question?”
“Yes, of course.”
“Have you ever . . . ever . . . had a boyfriend or seen anyone for a while?”
“Oh god no, Father wouldn’t like that. I’m not . . . erm . . . as naive as he thinks, but I’ve never had a relationship.”
“Hmm,” he says with a slight smile on his lips.
“What?” I ask, nudging him with my elbow. He stumbles and then laughs.
“You’re not what I imagined. You must be quite the heartbreaker. Not begging to get tied down, married, and kids. The guys must get pretty pissed off when you dump them.”
“I don’t dump anyone. I don’t get into it with anyone. Anyway, this is not a conversation for the first time we really meet.”
“It’s not the first time though, it’s the first time we’ve had a conversation, it’s the first time we’ve been alone. But we’ve met before. A few times.”
“Ah, yes! The galas,” I say, rolling my eyes. I’m introduced to so many people and shown off like a prize pony.
“Do you hate them as much as I do?” he asks.
“I don’t know . . . How much do you hate them?”
“I’d rather have root canal treatment, but the dentist won’t oblige when it’s not necessary.”
“Why do you go to them then? If it’s so painful.”
“Business, to mix with the right people and to see what’s on offer.”
“You mean women?”
“Yes and no, it depends on what mood I’m in, and if the mood takes me then I’ll maybe find something interesting to do with the rest of my evening.”
“So, you don’t have a wife or regular girlfriend?” I ask and I have no idea why.
“No wife, I do have a couple of friends who I see occasionally. A man has got to eat, Princess.”
I take in what he says, and then his smirk hits me. “Eww . . . you were talking about— Mr. Blackmoore.”
“Drew! If you call me Mr. Blackmoore, I won’t answer you. And yes, I was, I was waiting to see your reaction. Not the broad-minded type?” he asks, his smile widening.
“I’m broad-minded. I just wasn’t expecting you to be so . . . so . . . crass.”
“You think that’s crass? You wouldn’t want to be alone with me in my bedroom. Crass doesn’t even come into it.”
Oh god! I can feel the heat pooling between my legs, and as I move from one leg to the other, I notice his smile getting even wider. He knows exactly what he’s doing, and I want him to stop. Now! But I don’t want him to stop. The longer I stand next to him watching Jasmine run around the field, the more his scent is invading my normally logical brain. His arm keeps brushing against mine, and the tingles shoot all over my body.
“I’ve no intention of finding out.”
“Really? Hmm, that’s a little disappointing.”
“Why? You’ve got your friends. You don’t need another one.”
“I might . . . and you’re like me more than you think.”
“How so?” I ask, my mind racing and my chest heaving at the thought of being with him alone in his bedroom.
“You don’t do relationships, and neither do I.”
I manage to gather myself just enough to speak clearly. “You know my reason for not getting into a relationship . . . What’s yours?”
“No real reason. No broken heart or fear of commitment. I just don’t have time. My horses come first, even over my family. I don’t know a woman who would put up with that. I’m not broken, I’m not a project to be fixed, I just haven’t met anyone who would be happy living with me, and I wouldn’t want someone to waste their life on me.”
“That’s not what I thought you were going to say. I thought you were going to tell me the old ‘I’ve been cheated on’, ‘I don’t trust women’, or you might even have had gold digger issues.”
His eyes sparkle with mischief as he listens to me admitting my assumptions. “Jasmine looks fairly settled, so I might head back home. Carlos took the truck; do you think you could drive me home?” His lips smile widely and show his perfect white teeth.
Good teeth say a lot about a man.
“I would love to, only I don’t drive. I’ve always wanted to learn, but I’ve never had the opportunity. Plus, Father wouldn’t like it.” My smile fades, and I dip my head. I’m sounding more and more pathetic with every word. “I could ask one of the staff to drive you?”
“No, I’ll call Carlos, and he can come back for me.”
We both turn and walk back towards the stable building. He turns as if to say goodbye to Jasmine and freezes. “Fuck!” he yells and runs back towards the fence.
Jasmine is racing up the field at speed, and it doesn’t look like she has any intention of stopping. He reaches the fence, and before I can even think about following, he’s sat on the top of the fence.
“Woah, Jasmine,” he says soothingly as he raises one hand and then the other, but she’s still flying like the wind. My pulse races as I go to stand behind him. If he falls back, he could really hurt himself.
“Woah, Jasmine, I’m not going anywhere,” he says loudly but still with a kind tone to his voice, but she’s still coming and fast.
“Jasmine, stop!” he yells, and finally, she decides to listen as she slows down quickly into a trot and then finally comes to a stop right in front of him.
“Jesus, Jasmine, were you trying to kill me. You silly girl,” he says softly as he rubs and kisses her nose.
I wonder if I run at him like that whether he’d pull me into his arms and kiss me softly like that?
“Is she okay?” I ask, stepping around from behind him.
“Yeah, I think she just panicked. We should have brought her in before I left. I think seeing me walk away upset her.”
“You have a strong bond with her, don’t you?” I say, more of a statement than a question.
“Yeah, I’ve had her since she was born. She had a few problems, so I spent a lot of time with her. I think she sees me as a father figure.”
“I wish I felt that way about my father,” I whisper under my breath.
“What was that?”
“Oh, I love it when my father leaves me alone. I wish he’d do it more often.”
“I think this a bit different,” he says harshly.
“Oh, yes, I never meant . . . Look I’m sorry. I never meant to annoy you.”
“I’ve been a constant in her life, always been there for her, and I’ve just sold her on. How would you feel if your father did that to you?”
“I think I’d be relieved to get out of this place,” I say without thinking.
“This is not a joke, Zara. Horses have feelings. They are very intelligent and astute animals. If you don’t know that then I think I should rethink the sale.”
“Please, Mr. Blackmoore, don’t do that. My father will wonder what the hell I’ve done. I promise I will look after her and give her everything she needs,” I beg.
“Fine, but I’m going to come every day to check on her. If I feel that she’s getting depressed or anxious, I’ll be taking her back.” He jumps off the fence into the field and takes hold of Jasmine.
“I appreciate that, thank you,” I say as I watch his strong arms take hold of his baby and lead her to the gate.
I open the gate and admire his control as he leads her across the yard and into the stable building. The way the muscles in his back move under the T-shirt, the way his arse cheeks move in the moulded jeans, and those thighs . . . those legs . . . Oh my god. I don’t think I’ve ever been attracted to a person’s back before.
Jasmine’s hooves clip clop loudly through the stables, and as he closes the door to her pen, he gives her another kiss on the nose.
“I’ll be back tomorrow. Be a good girl and don’t cause any trouble.” He rubs her nose and turns to walk away, but I’m standing so close to him we end up in an embrace.
“Sorry, sorry. I shouldn’t have been in your way.”
“You can get in my way anytime if your eyes are going to sparkle like that.”
Oh god, he’s flirting . . . Shit! The cameras. My eyes flit quickly to the cameras that are everywhere. “It was my fault. I’m sorry. It won’t happen again,” I half yell, so the cameras pick it up.
He catches on quickly. “Make sure it doesn’t,” he says loudly. “But if it does, be prepared, Princess,” he whispers into my ear, sending electric shocks through my body that all lead to one specific area.
I can feel the heat building between my legs, and I’d love nothing more than to pull him into one of the pens and let him have his way . . . Thankfully, I’m not into making pornos, so that’s completely off the table.
I step back and gather myself with a couple of deep breaths. Jesus, that was close.
“Did you call Carlos?” I ask, half hoping he says no.
“I texted him. He should be here any minute.”
“Oh! Right. Well, I suppose I’ll see you tomorrow?”
“You will. I’ll be here”—he checks his calendar on his phone— “around 11:00 a.m. I suggest you don’t turn her out until I’m here. I wouldn’t want any accidents.”
“I’m more than capable of turning her out.”
“And do you think you could stop her from jumping the fence and trying to make her way back to her old home?”
His eyes are dark and serious, pulling me further and further in. “No, I don’t. Thank you,” I reply.
The sound of tyres on the gravel pulls us both out of the staring contest, but when we step outside, I’m surprised that it’s not Carlos in the truck.
“What the hell are you doing here?” Drew growls.
Who the hell is this? and what are they doing here?