away. The fewer strange smells introduced to Thunder, the better.
Amy brought the hose to her mouth, swallowing a few gulps of the water, the metallic taste of the nozzle clinging to her tongue. Logan followed suit, splashing the spray over his face and rasping his palms over the stubble lining his jaw. The thick muscles of his shoulders and back rippled beneath the tight pull of his shirt with each movement.
Amy’s palms itched at the display, a deep longing to smooth her hands over his broad shoulders and weave her fingers through the dark waves of his hair overwhelming her. She turned away and faced Traci.
“Did you round up everything?”
“Yep.” Traci handed the items to her. “Rope, sticks and strings, just like you asked for.”
Amy thanked her and attached strings to two of the training sticks.
“You ready?” Logan asked, turning off the faucet and shaking his hands dry.
Amy nodded, handed Logan the rope and one of the sticks then led the way into the stable. Her heart tripped in her chest.
A finger threaded through her back belt loop and tugged. She stopped and looked over her shoulder. Logan’s eyes peered into hers, the sensual curve of his lips pressing into a firm line.
“Go easy, Amy,” he said.
She swallowed hard, ignoring the warm flutter in her belly, and walked to the back of the stable to stand in front of Thunder’s stall. The stallion pinned his ears and tossed his head back, nostrils flaring on sharp pulls of air.
Amy’s thighs trembled. The shaking traveled down her knees to her shins, leaving her lower half weak and unstable.
“Easy,” Logan repeated.
He stood a few feet away, a tic appearing in his jaw. Traci hovered behind him.
Amy waited as Logan prepared his rope, studying the movements of his strong hands. The thick, twisted fibers seemed like such a weak support against a frightened, thousand-pound animal. She closed her eyes and placed her hand on the latch of Thunder’s stall.
LOGAN MOVED CLOSE to the stall, keeping an eye on Thunder as he whipped the rope overhead and lassoed him. The stallion cried and kicked the wall with his back hooves, thrashing against the pull of the rope.
“It’s okay, boy,” Amy murmured.
Thunder stopped at the sound of her voice, pinned his ears back and pawed the ground. Logan’s throat closed.
“Go wait for us outside, Traci.” Logan firmed his hold on the rope, then nodded after Traci left. “Let him out.”
Amy unlatched the stall and pulled it open, raising her arms and directing Thunder’s feet toward the exit. The stallion backed away, jerking wildly, but eventually exited with her encouragement.
It took several minutes to maneuver Thunder out of the stable and into the round pen. Logan removed the rope and let him buck around the pen until he settled down and drew to a halt on one side.
Amy moved toward the entrance of the pen, her tender expression causing Logan’s mouth to run dry.
“He’s not like you remember, Amy. He’s aggressive now. Likes to dive and bite. You have to start hard and end hard.” Logan lifted his training stick, jiggling the string and motioning toward hers. “Use that thing on him if you need to.”
She frowned. “I’ve never whipped a horse and I won’t start now.”
Logan shook his head. “I’ve never done it, either. But the last time I tried to work with him, he almost forced me into a position where I had no choice.”
“This time will be different,” she said, walking to the gate.
He bit back a curse. “How you figure?”
She stopped and faced him. “Because you have help. We’re doing this together.”
Together. Logan glanced away, focusing on Thunder and ignoring the pleasurable tingle sweeping through him. There was no room for distractions in that pen.
He cleared his throat. “We start hard and we end hard.”
Amy opened the gate and they entered, walking to the center of the round pen. Thunder pinned his ears and pawed the ground, dipping his head and snaking it from side to side as if to attack. Logan immediately threw his left hand up and whipped his training stick behind Thunder’s heels, lashing the ground with the string.
“Move,” he shouted.
Thunder started then ran left, making it halfway around the pen before he stopped. Amy stepped in, striking her stick against the ground behind him and forcing him forward. Thunder balked, rearing and spinning his back to her.
Amy slapped the ground with the stick again, regaining Thunder’s attention. She pointed in the air and shouted, “Right.”
Thunder complied, running around the curve of the pen, but stopped again. He laid back his ears again and made to charge.
Logan ran him back, thrashing the ground with his stick and yelling, “Move!”
They continued the tactics, shouting commands and running Thunder around the pen until he began to respond.
“Good boy,” Amy praised, easing off when Thunder obeyed a request the first time it was issued.
Logan returned to her side. They stood still, breathing hard and watching Thunder trot around the pen.
“He’s doing good, huh?” Traci called from the other side of the fence.
Amy’s eyes followed Thunder’s progress. “Looks that way.” She turned, glancing up at him with excitement. “It’s an improvement, right?”
Logan smiled. “Yeah. But he still has a long way to go.” He took a step back but stayed close to her side. “When he comes around, ask him to face you. See if he’ll give you both eyes.”
Amy did as instructed, dropping her arms and maintaining her stance. Thunder drew to a halt, faced her and pricked his ears forward.
“Remember me, beautiful?” she asked.
Thunder huffed and ducked his head.
Amy took a step forward. “It’s okay, boy.” Then another.
Thunder licked his lips and Amy moved close. She murmured phrases of affection and rubbed his forehead.
“Can we try to saddle him now?” Traci asked.
“Not yet,” Logan said. “This is just the first step. It’ll take a lot of attention and time.”
Traci eased closer to the fence, eyes glued to Amy’s actions. Thunder relaxed even more with each of Amy’s touches and eventually, he allowed Amy to smooth her palm over his neck. He leaned
