A Cowboy State of Mind Page 3

  “See ya, Zane,” she said, then glanced at the bills on the counter, her eyes and her grin widening as she saw the twenty and the crisp hundred-dollar bill sticking out from under his plate.

  He turned and walked out of the restaurant, knowing full well he was going to regret that move, but yet, somehow his steps seemed to be as light as his wallet.

  Chapter 2

  Bryn drew the back of her hand across her sweaty forehead as she tried again to approach the anxious horse. It had let out an angry whinny at the hard screech of rusted metal when one of the men had released the latch and opened the back door of the trailer. Then it had bucked and pulled against the lead when Bryn had entered the small side door at the front.

  She’d almost gagged on the stench of manure and decay, but she was determined to save this horse’s life. Too bad the horse couldn’t seem to get with the plan. She’d been bucking and fighting Bryn’s efforts to get her out of the trailer for the last fifteen minutes. She’d barely missed getting kicked on her last try.

  And the two jerks who’d sold her the horse stood by, duplicate smirks covering their smarmy-ass faces. She wouldn’t mind if the horse kicked one or both of them in the head.

  The inside of the trailer was rusted and foul, but Bryn tried to breathe through her mouth as she pulled an apple slice from a baggie in the front pocket of her uniform and held it out to the horse. She was standing just inside the door and jumped as Gator stepped into the doorway behind her.

  “You need a little help?” he asked, his hands holding on to either side of the door, blocking her escape. “I’m pretty good with getting the ladies to do what I want.”

  What she wanted was to kick this guy in his grimy crotch. Her fight-or-flight instinct was on full alert, and she swallowed back the fear rising in her throat. Sweat broke in the center of her back, and her chest tightened as she realized she was trapped between a pissed off horse and a creepy guy with a feral look in his eyes.

  The horse didn’t like him either, and Bryn dropped the apple slice and shrank back toward the door, and the slimeball guy, as the mare stamped and whinnied her irritation.

  “Why don’t you take a step back?” a deep voice from outside the trailer commanded.

  Bryn’s shoulders sagged in relief as she recognized Zane’s voice.

  A sneer pulled at Gator’s lips, but he backed out of the trailer and Bryn followed him, almost tripping on the edge of the trailer in her haste to escape the confined space.

  Zane caught her, pulling her to him as he bent his head and spoke softly in her ear. “You all right, darlin’?”

  She would be now that Zane was here. Although being pressed against his hard-muscled chest wasn’t doing anything to slow her frantically beating heart. She nodded, her mouth too dry to speak. Her hands still felt shaky, and her fingers wrinkled the cotton of his T-shirt as she held the front of it in a death grip. But she wasn’t quite ready to let it go.

  He kept his arm firmly around her shoulders as he narrowed his eyes at the other man. “Everything okay here?”

  Raleigh pulled Gator back another few steps and offered Zane an affable smile. “Yeah, Gator was just fooling around. Your girlfriend there seems to be having a little trouble getting her new horse out of the trailer.”

  Zane arched an eyebrow. “My girlfr—?”

  Bryn squeezed her hands tighter against his chest, sending him a silent signal and hoping he’d play along.

  He gently squeezed her shoulder. “Yeah, well, why don’t you let me worry about my girlfriend? And I’ll take care of the horse as well, and let you gentleman get on your way.” He peered down at Bryn. “You okay if I take a turn at getting her out of there?”

  “Yes, please,” she said, letting out a shaky breath. She let go of his shirt and passed him the baggie of apple slices. “These might help.”

  “Good thinking.” He dropped his chin and offered Bryn an encouraging smile. “You stay right here. I’ll have her out in a minute.” He let her go and stepped into the trailer.

  Bryn instantly missed the heat of his arm but was impressed he didn’t even flinch at the stench of the trailer. His ice-blue eyes were laser-focused on the horse’s chocolate-brown ones, and he talked softly to her as he eased closer.

  His tone was soothing, low and confident, as he held out a chunk of apple. “It’s okay, sweetheart. I’m not here to hurt you. Nobody’s gonna hurt you anymore. You’re all right.” The horse shook her head, sending a spray of slobber flying across the trailer, but the next stamp of her hooves didn’t have the same weight behind it.

  Rapt by the scene, and by Zane, Bryn couldn’t believe the changes in the horse as she settled and calmed after giving another loud huff. She tentatively drew her head toward Zane’s outstretched hand, rearing back slightly, then lowering her head again as her lips carefully nibbled the apple from his palm.

  Zane held the gaze of the horse, not moving toward her or away, just sharing her space. Like the waves of a mountain lake gently lapping against the shore, the temperament of the horse and the charged atmosphere inside the trailer settled as the horse visibly calmed. She stamped her feet a few more times, then stood still.

  She accepted a few more slices of apple before letting Zane gently brush his fingers across the side of her head. He continued to speak in hushed tones, to woo the horse, to soothe and pacify, as he slowly untied the lead rope and eased her backward.

  Bryn rolled her shoulders, not realizing how tense she was, as she watched Zane with the horse. She was as transfixed as the horse, wooed by his gentle tone and calm demeanor. He was truly mesmerizing.

  She knew he was gifted with horses, had heard the rumors, but had never seen him like this. She’d witnessed him talking an ornery goat off her kitchen table a few months ago, but this was different. This was an art form, like he was a composer of his own mix of mysterious music. Music that pulled her in and held her captive. Like the kind of music she felt in her chest that made it hard to breathe.

  But Zane’s composition changed and transformed the more time she spent around him. His refrain could be smooth and smoky, slow and hypnotic, like it was now as he wooed the horse. But she’d also felt the heavy rhythm of the blues rolling off him when he drew into himself and got that pensive look when he didn’t realize someone was watching him. He could also be funny and charming like Southern rock, where his temperament could go from slow and easy to a sudden upbeat tempo she couldn’t help but sing along with and get swept away in.

  And then there were the moments when his leg brushed against hers or when he pulled her against him, like when she’d stumbled out of the trailer, and his low voice had caressed her ear and called her darlin’, and her heart had slammed into her throat like she’d been caught in the grasp of a rock ballad that caressed and seduced. It was a song that left her breathless and had her wanting to play it again and again.

  There was something about this man—something that reached into her gut and drew her toward him. He was like gravity, and she seemed unable to resist his pull. He seemed lost and hurting, yet also strong and powerful, a combination she found hard to resist.

  He wore his sun-kissed light brown hair long, curling at the edges of his collar, and his bangs often hung down to cover the side of his face if he didn’t smooth them back before putting on his cowboy hat. His hair reminded her of Chris Hemsworth’s, somewhere between his surfer and superhero styles. Zane’s jaw held just enough scruff to make her wonder how rough it would feel against her skin. The layer of whiskers wasn’t enough to cover the scar that slashed from his eye and down his cheek—the two sides of his face were a stark illustration of his personality. One side was handsome and approachable, the other scarred and distant.

  He reminded her of the stallions and skittish horses he broke: wild and wary until he earned their trust. And she wanted both to earn his trust and to shy away, to get close enough to feel h
is heat and stay far enough away to escape getting burned. And Zane Taylor was one hot fire. Tall and strong, his body was lean and hard, and he carried himself with the straight posture of a soldier. Not the typical loose, arrogant swagger of some of the other jerks she’d had the misfortune of dating.

  The last one had been a thief, stealing not just her heart and her pride but also wiping out her bank account and taking her grandfather’s truck and his prized rodeo buckle when he’d snuck out of town while she’d been at work. She got a bad taste in her mouth just thinking about it.

  But she was done with that type. She was such a sucker for anything wounded and her natural instinct was to rescue and save. But she’d had enough of trying to save men who didn’t want to be saved.

  So why did her heart race like it was in the Daytona 500 and her palms start to sweat anytime she was within five feet of Zane Taylor? Why did her knees threaten to give way every time he walked into the diner or she saw his truck driving through town? On the surface, he may have seemed just her type—a bad boy who defied the norm. But there was something different about Zane. Something in his eyes, a shadow of pain. He wasn’t really so much of a bad boy but more of a tortured lone wolf. All she wanted to do was rescue him. Could she?

  No. She shook herself. Don’t be ridiculous. She’d had her heart broken too many times. She wasn’t going down that road again. Even if the road was a hot-as-hell cowboy who could charm a traumatized horse into trusting him.

  But he just said he’s fixing to leave town soon. He’d also told her she couldn’t save them all. Wanna bet? He didn’t know who he was messing with if he thought she wasn’t going to at least try. So forget the wounded cowboy. She turned her focus to the horse—the one she could rescue.

  The horse’s back hoof slipped on the edge of the trailer, and she gave a frightened whinny, her eyes going wild with panic. But Zane remained calm, holding her lead tight with one hand as he gently stroked her neck with the other. “Easy, girl. Easy.”

  Her tail swished back and forth, whipping through the air, but she seemed to settle again once she was free of the trailer.

  Bryn let out her breath and turned to Raleigh and Gator. “It looks like we’re all set here.” So now you can leave, you disgusting jerks. She’d already paid them, and they’d stowed the takeout cartons with their lunch in the cab. Now she just wanted them out of her sight, before they had a chance to change their minds or try to demand more money.

  Raleigh nodded. “It appears so. It was a pleasure doing business with you.” He closed the back of the trailer with a clang, then headed toward the front of the truck.

  Gator opened the passenger door, then turned back and gave her body an additional cool once-over before offering her another of his repulsive grins. “Yeah, Bryn, it was a pleasure doing business with you. I’ll be sure to look you up next time we’re passing by this way. And maybe your boyfriend won’t be around to mess up our fun.”

  She wrapped her arms around her middle, trying to stave off the shiver that ran through her at what felt like a barely disguised threat. But she was more worried about Zane. His expression had gone hard, his lips forming a tight line. The sleeves of his shirt stretched over his flexed biceps as his grip tightened on the lead rope, and he took a menacing step toward the truck.

  Easy there. She held up a hand in warning. “He’s not worth it,” she told him, not wanting either him or the horse to get worked up.

  Thankfully, Gator had already slammed the door, and Raleigh put the truck in gear and pulled out of the parking lot. They watched the truck speed down the highway, and the air seemed to feel cleaner now that they were gone.

  “Assholes,” Zane muttered not quite under his breath. He closed his eyes, took a deep inhale, then exhaled and opened them, rearranging his expression as he regarded Bryn. “You gonna come over and meet your new horse?”

  His lips formed the slightest smile, and her stomach dipped and swayed, producing the same wild panic that had been in the horse’s eyes. Oh boy, was she in trouble with this man. She’d forgotten how intense he was, how exhilarating it was to be in his presence, to have him extend a rare smile, to be the one who evoked that emotion from him. It was addictive. And dangerous. And far from the nice, safe guy she knew she should be looking for.

  Focus on the horse.

  She approached cautiously, speaking softly and holding her hand out as she’d seen Zane do. “Hey there, sweet girl. You’re safe now.” She gently stroked the side of the horse’s head as she continued to offer gentle assurance. The horse’s tail swished a few times, but she held still, letting Bryn tenderly stroke her neck.

  “You’re doing great,” Zane said, resting his hand on her shoulder. “She likes you already. Horses are good judges of character, and she recognizes you’ve got a good heart.”

  Bryn flushed at the praise—and at the sudden rush of heat that swept along her back from the spot Zane’s hand was touching. Her mouth went dry, but she kept her gaze trained on the horse and prayed Zane couldn’t feel her tremble. She did believe animals had an innate sense about people, had seen it many times with her dogs as they shied away from some, while openly licking the faces of others. She only hoped she could earn the trust of this horse, who had obviously seen enough of the bad in people to be wary.

  “So what do we do now?” she asked. “Should we call Logan and ask him to bring over a trailer so we can get her back to my farm?”

  Zane shook his head and moved his hand to gently rest it on the horse’s neck. “No way. She’s been through enough today. I’m not putting her through the distress of getting back into a trailer.”

  “Then how are we going to get her home?”

  He tilted his head, eyeing the cloudless blue sky. “Seems to me like a good day for a walk.”

  “A walk? You know my farm is over two miles outside of town.” Not that she hadn’t ever walked home from town before, but she’d never done it with a three-legged dog, a traumatized horse, or a devilishly handsome cowboy in tow. And certainly never with all three at the same time.

  Zane shrugged. “It’s not that far. Probably won’t take more than an hour. But you could call Logan to pick you up, and I’ll meet you out there.”

  She cocked an eyebrow. “Not a chance. If you’re walking, I’m walking.”

  “Don’t you need to finish your shift?”

  She shook her head. “Nah, we’re dead today, and Vi is happy to pick up my tables. I already told Gil I was taking the rest of the day off to deal with the horse and my car. And he was good with it.”

  The corners of his lips tugged up. “Then I guess we’re taking a morning stroll.”

  She held his gaze, her mouth curving into a grin. “I guess we are. I just need to grab my dog.”

  He glanced toward his truck, still parked under the tree. “Yeah, I should probably grab mine too.”

  She raised an eyebrow.

  “Well, not my dog. I meant the dog.”

  “Uh-huh,” she said, letting out a soft chuckle. “Why don’t I grab them both?”

  “Good idea. I’ll stay here with the horse. No use getting her any more upset.”

  “Do you need anything else out of your truck?”

  He looked down at the corroded and frayed rope knotted around the horse’s head. Her skin was abraded in several spots where the rope had rubbed. “I’ve got a blue lead rope behind the seat of my pickup. Why don’t you grab that when you get the dog?”

  * * *

  Ten minutes later, Bryn emerged from the diner. The two dogs pranced at her heels as she practically skipped toward Zane, bouncing on the balls of her feet. Her eyes were bright, and a huge smile broke across her face.

  He chuckled softly. “What’s with you? You look like you’re walking across a trampoline.”

  “I feel like I’m on a trampoline, like I’m going to bounce into the air with excitem
ent.” She held the lead rope and her backpack, but dropped them to throw her arms around his neck and clutch his back. “I need something to hold on to so I don’t float away.”

  He could feel her shoulders trembling as he pulled her against him. “You’re shaking.”

  “I know. And I can’t tell if it’s because I’m so happy and excited because I just bought a horse or if I’m terrified and panic-stricken because I just bought a horse.” She pressed her cheek into his chest. “Can you just hang on to me for a second? Just until I feel steadier?”

  He swallowed, wanting to say something witty or cute but unable to think of a thing, his brain too undone by the warmth of her body flush against him.

  She tilted her head and let out a shuddering exhale. He could feel the warmth of it on his neck. “I can’t seem to catch my breath.” She looked up at him from under dark lashes, her eyes wide and frightened. “I think I might hyperventilate. I need something to ground me. Quick, do something to shock my brain out of this panic mode.”

  He didn’t think, didn’t analyze, he just did the first thing that came to mind. He leaned down and kissed her.

  It was a quick kiss—a hard press of his lips against hers. But as he drew back, he couldn’t help but steal another soft taste of her mouth, one more tender graze, but enough to leave him breathless for more.

  She pulled away, her eyes round, her lips parted in a surprised “oh.”

  Was she mad? Had he overstepped? She’d said earlier she wanted to be friends. Did “friends” entail a shock-reducing lip-lock? Although it had been panic inducing for him—his heart was pounding like a scared rabbit facing a wolf.

  He watched her face, waiting for a reaction. She just stared at him, wide-eyed, like maybe she was the scared rabbit. That seemed the more likely scenario, that he was the wolf. Sweat broke out on his back, and he raised one shoulder, trying for an offhand shrug. “You said to do something to shock you.”