neither. She’s sad, broke and needs a job. Go on, be nice to her.’
She had an air of melancholy to her that was for sure, from the way she’d played her guitar last night, like it really meant something to her. But sad? ‘I’m not a babysitting service.’ And she’s not a baby, far, far from a baby.
‘Will you at least be nice and find her something to do? Pretty please?’ He heard the chink of glasses in the background. ‘See what she thinks? And even if she’s not interested in staying long term, she can help out with the horses until we get back, which will give her a bit of cash.’
‘I was quite happy sorting the horses on my own, thanks.’
‘Roisin might even take her on as a stable hand. I bet she’s good with animals.’
He laughed. ‘You should see her with a pitchfork. I’ll catch you later.’ He flicked the phone off before she got a chance to say anything else, and took the handful of strides to the other side of the yard. And the girl, no, woman, who he seemed to be lumbered with.
‘Were you hoping I’d finish it before you got back?’ Her voice was soft, a question that went beyond the stable duties.
‘At the rate you work? No chance.’ He smiled, hoping it looked at least halfway to good-natured, swung the fork off his shoulder and stripped his shirt over his head.
She wolf-whistled.
‘You watch what you’re getting into, girl.’ He waved an admonishing finger at her and she gave him the Vs. ‘You watch it yourself, Mister.’
Hmm, any minute now and he’d be tempted to put her over his knee if she carried on the teasing. ‘Let’s move on to the next box. You’re getting better.’
‘Couldn’t get much worse you mean?’
‘Something like that.’ He watched as she got into the swing of it, lifting her fork more easily and with a steady rhythm now she knew what she was doing and every now and then she’d catch him looking and stick her tongue out or just grin.
For a lost and lonely girl she had a self-confidence that surprised him, and she worked hard, not pausing to chat or flirt like the other girls did.
‘So, what do you do here?’ They’d emptied the wheelbarrow for the last time and were putting the beds back down. ‘It isn’t just horses, is it?’
‘What did Marie tell you?’
She tucked a long strand of hair behind her ear and pursed her lips. ‘Well.’ She put her head on one side as though waiting for inspiration.
‘I’ll take that as not a lot then. So you came all this way for a job you know jack all about?’
‘I trusted Marie.’ She looked straight at him. ‘Are you saying I shouldn’t have?’
‘No, not exactly. Do you trust everyone you meet, then?’
‘Unless they give me a reason not to, Mr Cynical. And, anyhow, I hadn’t got anything else lined up, I’ve got to do something, so why not this?’ Her small shoulders went up in a shrug.
‘But what’s “this?” Stable hand?’
‘Well, what do you do?’
‘I’m a sex therapist.’
She laughed, carried on tossing straw in the air. ‘You’re a sex therapist?’
‘Yup, that’s what I do here, what we all do.’
The straw lost her attention. ‘You are kidding, right?’ Her eyes narrowed. ‘You’re not. Wow.’ She leaned on the fork and eyed him up like she hadn’t seen him before. ‘But you’re a man.’
‘Well-spotted. Does that mean I don’t qualify to know about sex?’
‘Well, no, but… So, if you’re a sex therapist what does that make me?’
‘Good question. Chief shit shoveller?
‘I can do other things as well, you know.’ The glare she gave him was steelier than he expected. ‘So, you get wackos here who are sexaholics? Or can’t get it up and stuff?’
‘We get normal people like you and me who want better sex lives.’
She looked directly at him, her eyes slightly wider and gave a short, incredulous snort. ‘You don’t need to teach people about sex, you just do it, right? Sex is just sex.’
‘Not necessarily.’ He tucked his hands into his pockets and leaned back against the wall. ‘People don’t always know what good sex is, or how to ask someone to please them.’
She’d coloured up a bit, but wasn’t backing down. ‘Bollocks. I mean I wouldn’t go to a sex therapist. I mean if you like someone enough to sleep with them, then it’s just going to happen isn’t it.’
‘Is it? Is sex always the same for you, whoever you do it with?’
Her colour shifted another notch up the scale towards red hot. ‘Yes, well no. Well, it just works better sometimes than other times.’ She shrugged. ‘Depends how much you fancy someone I suppose.’
‘Have you never been left high and dry, wanting more?’
‘I’m fine with a cuddle, I don’t have to, you know…’
‘Come?’ God, how he would just love to take her here and now, to show her what passion was really about. He pushed off from the wall and took a step towards her, and she flinched, but didn’t move away.
‘I could make you come.’
‘I can make myself come thanks, no big deal there.’
‘I can make you come,’ He took another step closer. Stroked along her lip with one finger, ‘without touching you where you want me to most.’
‘Slightly bigger deal, but if I get in the zone, think the right things…..’ Her voice tailed off as eased his thumb between her teeth.
He shouldn’t, he should keep his distance. But she was turning him on something rotten. She was all feisty and sassy, but there was also a streak of the submissive about her. A streak he didn’t want to ignore. He’d forgotten what ‘pure’ meant after he’d walked out on his home, his job, his wife. And every woman since had been just there for the sex. And every woman in the future would be. And he wasn’t going to start anything with Kezia, he just wanted to show her. No, he just wanted her. To see her surrender, for him. To him.
‘All you have to do, is say please.’ James paused. There was hesitation in her eyes, but she’d stilled, gone quiet. Was waiting. And it was making his balls tingle in a way he’d almost forgotten existed.
He traced along the top edge of her teeth with his salty thumb and Kezia wanted to say please. Well, more like shout it out. Not to any arty-farty sex therapist crap, but to a good, hard shag. His hard-on was straining against his jeans and she could smell him; pure sex. Yes, he scared
