Leanne Banks - Trouble in High Heels

The thought of her impending marital sentence made her want to vault out of her second-story window. Lori shook her head. The comfy room suddenly felt too small, her skin too tight. Was she doing the right thing by getting married? By the time she turned thirty, what kind of woman would she be? Would an empty marriage change her? Would she become cynical?

Desperate to escape her thoughts, she gave in to her urge to go to the barn. She would take an apple this time to give one of the horses, to prove that she wasn’t expecting Jackson to be there.

The apples looked so juicy and inviting in the bowl that she grabbed two and nibbled one along the way. The dry grass crunched under her feet. Lori inhaled deeply. She loved it here. No need for a new dress for every event. She wasn’t cooped up in her house trying not to think about her father or mother too much. Glancing down at her manicure, or lack thereof, she laughed. Her polish was chipped, her nails breaking, and her hands looked three hundred years old from being in water so much the last couple of days.

She took another bite of her apple and smiled. Who cared? Slowing down as she approached the barn, she walked inside and found it dark and quiet. Jackson didn’t appear to be here. Brushing off a twinge of disappointment, she took a few more steps and the tight feeling in her shoulders eased.

“I wondered if you were going to come,” Jackson said from behind her.

Startled, Lori stifled a shriek and whirled around, breathless. “Did you have to scare me half to death?” she whispered. “Is it too much to ask you to give me a little warning if you’re going to come up behind me in the dark?”

“Sorry,” he said, but his tone said he was much more amused than apologetic.

She took a deep breath, then another, then turned away from him. “Yeah, whatever.”

“Looks like you dropped your apple,” he said.

“Good thing I brought another one,” she said, glancing inside each stall at the resting horses. She already knew who would be awake.

“Is that for me?”

“Absolutely not,” she said. “It’s for Rowdy.” She stopped for a moment and listened. Sure enough, she heard the horse’s steps at the other end of the barn. Smiling, she walked toward his stall.

“You’re getting more brave all the time,” he said. “Soon enough, you’ll be ready to ride.”

A shiver of fear immediately rushed through her. “Ha, ha. Feeding is one thing. Riding is another.”

“When do you think you’ll be ready?”

“I don’t know. No time soon,” she said and turned to face him. “What’s it to you?”

He shrugged. “I guess I think that if you got so much pleasure from riding before, it would be good if you could do it again.”

“Except I don’t get pleasure from it anymore.”

“You don’t know that, do you?” he asked.

She opened her mouth, then shut it. “I know I break into a cold sweat just thinking about getting back on a horse again. For now, my riding days are over.”

“Unless you decide differently,” he said.

“What do you mean decide something differently? You think I’m overreacting. You think I’m a wuss, don’t you? You try breaking your pelvis and legs and doing a year of therapy and we’ll talk, okay?” She turned away, resenting Jackson because he was destroying her Zen experience in the barn.

His hand on her shoulder stopped her. “I didn’t say that. I don’t think you’re a wuss. I think you’re brave to come within a few feet of horses. This may sound crazy, but I’d like to help you.”

A sensation of warmth slid through her, and she met his gaze. “Why?”

“Glutton for punishment, I guess,” he said with a crooked grin.

She rolled her eyes. “Okay, well, thanks, but I’m just offering Rowdy an apple tonight.” She walked to his stall and the gelding came over to gawk at her. He nodded and dipped his head as if to greet her.

“He’s flirting with you,” Jackson said from behind her.

“How do you know that? Are you a horse whisperer?”

“It’s a guy thing,” he said. “We just know. There’s a pretty woman around and one guy is going to try to hog her attention. That’s what Rowdy is trying to do.”

“He’s so gorgeous,” she said, admiring his silky coat.

“And he’s succeeding,” Jackson continued in a dry tone.

“He just smells my apple and wants it,” she said.

“I could say something about your apple-”

“But you won’t,” she said and put the apple on her flat hand and gingerly lifted it toward Rowdy. He scarfed it into his mouth in a flash. She felt a crazy little rush of triumph. She’d done it on her own, and she was sweating only a little bit.

“I did it again,” she said to Jackson. “It wasn’t a fluke.”

“Yeah, you did,” he said, meeting her gaze. “You sure you don’t want to pet him?”

“I don’t know,” she said. “One step at a time.” She looked at Rowdy for a moment, but Jackson ’s gaze on her made her feel strange. Avoiding his gaze, she backed away. “I guess I should go. G-”

She felt his hand close over hers and gently tug her toward him. For some reason, she allowed it. She would have to think about just why later. Some part of her craved the sensation of his touch. She would love to feel the strength of his chest against her back. She would love to feel more.

“You’re different here,” he said in a low voice as he rubbed his thumb on the underside of her wrist. “On the ranch.”

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, catching just a hint of his scent. “It’s easier. I don’t feel pulled in so many different directions. I still want to fix things, but a lot of it is so basic. Clean cabins, muck out stalls.” She gave a breathless laugh. “Even I can do that.”

He turned her around to face him, and she forced herself to meet his gaze. She didn’t want him to see how much he affected her. Smiling, she lifted one of her hands and wiggled her fingers. “Are you saying you like my new barn manicure? Didn’t you know it’s the latest trend?”

Jackson looked down at her and couldn’t keep from smiling, too. He glanced at her small hand, which was already growing a couple of calluses. “What would your friends back in Dallas say?”

“One more thing I don’t have to worry about,” she said.

“Why do you need to be the one to fix everything?”

“You’re my accountant. You know why. Because I’ve got gobs of money, so I need to use it to make things better.”

“But why you? Why not other people? For that matter, most people with gobs of money sure as hell don’t give it away like you do.”

“Maybe they feel like they deserve it,” she said.

He looked into her eyes and saw something he hadn’t glimpsed before. “You really don’t feel like you deserve it?” he said.

“Why should I have things easy when other people have them so hard? What did I do to deserve to live like a princess? Nothing. So I got the sperm jackpot when it came to my father. How is that fair?”

“You feel guilty,” he said, the realization hitting him. “This is all about your guilt. How much are you going to have to give away to appease the guilt monster?” He shook his head. “Lord, you’re even willing to marry someone you don’t love.”

She pulled her hand away and glowered at him. “Well, thank you very much, Dr. Jackson, amateur shrink, for that lovely analysis. I came down to the barn to feel better, to maybe even be able to sleep when I went back to bed, but you’ve totally ruined that.”

“Sorry,” he said. “I just hadn’t realized you were so motivated by guilt, and it’s guilt for no reason.”

“Again, thanks for nothing,” she said as she turned away.

Feeling a slice of his own guilt, he followed after her. “Wait a minute. I can turn this around.”

“You already did,” she said.

He reached for her shoulder. “Come on. Give me a chance.”

She stopped, although he could tell she didn’t want to, and shot him a dark glance. “Why should I?”

“Because I promise I’ll make you feel different,” he said.

She paused, then let out a sigh. “Not the best sell I’ve ever heard,” she said.

“And you know I don’t promise what I can’t deliver,” he told her.

She moved her head in a circle. “Okay. I’ll give you five minutes.”

“Deal.” He took her hand and led her back toward Rowdy’s stall.

“Where are we going?” she asked. “Why are we-”

“Just do what I tell you, and I promise you’ll feel different.”

She slowed her steps. “I’m not sure I’m going to like this.”

“You will,” he said firmly, tugging her the last few steps to Rowdy’s stall. The gelding immediately walked to greet them. “See how happy he is to see you?”

“Because I give him treats,” she said.

“He’s like most men. They all want your treats, one way or another,” Jackson said, his own gaze straying to her curves. “You have a lot of treats.”

She shot him a wary glance. “Careful, that was almost a compliment.”

He pulled a lump of sugar from his pocket. “I want you to give this to him,” he said.

“I did that last night. And tonight I gave him an apple.”

“I know, but then I want you to do something else.”

“What?”

“I want you to stroke him.”

She bit her lip. “Why is this so important to you?”

“Because it’s important to you,” he said. “I can tell that it is, and I can help you if you let me.”

“You sound pretty confident,” she said.

“I told you before I don’t promise what I can’t deliver.” He lifted her hand and put the sugar cube on her palm. “Give it to him, then pet him.”

She bit her lip again but slid her hand toward the horse. Rowdy immediately took his treat. Then Jackson lifted her hand to the horse’s neck, guiding her to rub him. Rowdy responded like a gentleman.