Chapter 12
CHAPTER TWELVE
JASMINE
“Are you coming to my first race this weekend?” I asked as Gabe slipped out of Dash’s stall. He froze, then slowly glanced over his shoulder at where I sat perched atop the feed bin. The homemade wooden box was sturdy and held my weight with ease.
“How long you been sittin’ there?” he asked as he closed the gate and slid the bolt into place.
I knew what he was really asking. Had I been here long enough to hear all the gentle words of affirmation he’d used to praise Dash and all his hard work?
I thought it was sweet the way he talked to the ornery colt.
“Long enough,” I replied with an impish grin.
He came over to the wooden feed bin and stopped directly in front of me.
He held my gaze as he gripped the edge of the lid right next to my leg, his hand brushing my thigh, and my breath hitched.
“Scoot,” he instructed with a quick jerk of his head.
I scooted over just far enough so he could open one side of the bin.
When he leaned forward to grab the scoop, his arm grazed my thigh again, and I fought the urge to squirm.
He was so close, his woodsy, masculine scent invaded my nose as he scooped out the horse feed.
I breathed him in, watching as his muscles flexed with the movement.
He took his time scooping out the horse feed.
Then he straightened and lowered the lid before taking a step back.
“Sometimes you just gotta talk real sweet to them to get them to do what you want,” he explained with a roguish grin as he backed away. Little did he know, the same could be said for me.
He disappeared into Dash’s stall again to fill his feeder, and I took the opportunity to catch my breath.
His proximity had my stomach doing somersaults, and those subtle touches had stolen the breath from my lungs.
He was usually careful not to touch me, so it had caught me off guard.
Anticipation of what he would do next hummed beneath my skin.
“You never answered my question,” I declared as he exited Dash’s stall again and returned to me. “Are you coming,” I began, drawing out the word lasciviously, and his gaze dropped to my mouth, “to watch me race?”
“I can’t,” he said, leaning in to grab another scoop of food, and I instantly deflated.
He disappeared into another stall and seconds later, I heard the clink of the pellets against the feeder.
He emerged once more and dropped the scoop into the bin before shutting the lid.
“Rory has a dance recital Saturday,” he said, and I could almost swear I detected a hint of regret in his voice.
“Oh,” I replied, trying not to let my disappointment show. “How is Rory doing?”
“She’s good,” he said, bracing his hands on either side of my legs.
His abdomen was mere inches from brushing against my knees.
If he wanted to, he could lean up and kiss me right now.
And I would let him. “She can’t stop talking about you, though,” he added with a smirk, and that look made my stomach flip.
“I bet you get tired of hearing my name,” I quipped, and his expression morphed into something dark and dangerous.
“I could never get tired of that.” His gaze dropped to my mouth before flicking back up to my eyes.
My chest heaved as my breaths sawed in and out of me.
He swallowed hard, his throat bobbing with the action.
“I need into this side of the bin,” he said, his voice strained.
I held his gaze for several long seconds, unmoving while I waited to see what he would do.
Then slowly, he brought his hands toward my waist, bracing them just above my hips.
I gasped when he lifted me effortlessly off the lid, my hands automatically grabbing ahold of his strong arms. The muscles flexed and bunched beneath my palms. He slowly lowered me to the ground, never once breaking eye contact.
Once I was back on my feet, I expected him to let go, but his hands remained on my waist. He stood so close I could see the icy shards of crystalline blue jutting out from his pupils glow like the hottest flame.
I lifted my hand to cup his face, yearning to feel his scruff against my palm.
“Jasmine,” he rasped as though the reality of what was happening had just set in. I leaned in, desperate to finally feel his lips on mine. The sound of tires on gravel had my head snapping in the direction of the door.
Gabe released me and took a step back, running a hand over his mouth. His stoic expression slid back into place, causing my chest to ache. He turned and walked toward the next stall, and the doors opened. When Gabe walked out of the stall, I acted like I was just now seeing him.
“Hey! Dad asked me to bring your breakfast down. I left it in the tack room.” He’d gotten here early again, so I volunteered to bring him a slice of homemade quiche and some fried apples.
“Thank you,” he replied with a curt nod.
“Anytime,” I sing-songed, my voice light and playful, like what most of the ranch hands were used to hearing from me.
“Hey, Jasmine,” Jeremiah said as he approached. “I wondered who drove the side by side up here.”
Cody, one of our other ranch hands, followed behind him, a devilish grin spreading over his face. They came to a stop in front of me, and Cody nudged Jeremiah with his elbow.
“Don’t let him fool you. He was worried it was your brother coming down here to rip his ass for something,” Cody countered.
They laughed and shoved at each other the way guys did when they were messing around.
They might have been joking, but they were all genuinely terrified of my brother.
He was really a big teddy bear deep down, but his size was understandably intimidating.
“I’ve already fed these three,” Gabe interjected, motioning down the row of stalls on the left. They got the hint that social hour was over and it was time to get to work.
“Great, I’ll take care of these guys,” Jeremiah said, nodding to the stalls on the right.
I stepped out of his way so he could lift the lid on the other side of the bin where I’d been sitting and scooped out some of the senior horse feed for the older horses.
They had different nutritional needs than the young ones, so they got a different type of food.
“While Cody starts mucking out stalls,” he added, shooting his partner a cheesy grin.
Cody groaned as he grabbed the pitchfork and shovel and tossed them into the wheelbarrow.
“Are they like this every morning?” I asked, turning my attention to Gabe, but he wasn’t looking at either of them. He was watching me. I began to squirm under his scrutiny.
“Worse, usually,” he grumbled in response and glanced away.
“I’m going to eat my breakfast, then I’ll come out and get Baxter if you want to save his stall for last,” he announced to the ranch hands.
Baxter was one of the rescues Rowan hoped to train as a trail horse.
He didn’t like anyone being in his stall and sometimes would try to kick.
“’Preciate it,” Cody said.
Gabe settled his gaze on me once more. There was so much he wanted to say.
I could see it in his eyes and the hard set to his jaw, but he couldn’t talk freely, not where someone else could hear.
Finally, he reverted back to the trainer I respected and admired, the one whose approval I once sought above all others.
“You better get to training. I expect you to come home with that blue ribbon tomorrow.”
Challenge accepted.