at least I’m doing something right,” he said, not wanting to be charmed by her. Needing not to be. Despite Mac’s suggestions—and his own body’s response—to the contrary, he had rules about how he did his job. Rules that didn’t include getting involved with his subjects.
“You’re doing pretty well, actually,” she responded.
He was pretty sure she meant with the horse, but neither of them was looking at Petunia. “You sound almost surprised by that.”
She lifted a shoulder. “Maybe. A little bit. As I said before, for a guy who wants to learn to ride, you just don’t seem all that excited about the actual prospect of being around a horse. And it’s hard to ride one without encountering that minor detail.”
“I suppose I thought it would be like signing up for a trail ride at a vacation resort. You line up, climb on a horse, and meander along a bit until you figure it out. I thought I would be coming down here, hoisting myself up, and trotting around the ring a few times while you told me how to do it right. I guess I didn’t realize there would be so much more to it.” Or you. “I didn’t think—”
“That maybe the horse cared who climbed on its back?”
“Well, they’re used to it, aren’t they? Does it really matter who climbs on once they get used to being ridden?”
“They’re highly sentient creatures. It matters.”
“I didn’t mean any disrespect.”
“Tell that to Petunia.” Her lips curved then, and the dry smile put them back on an even keel.
“I already promised her carrots. At this rate, she’ll have me catering meals.”
“Apples.”
“Excuse me?”
“Her favorite treat. Preferably Granny Smith. Take a bite, then give it to her.”
“Whole?”
Elena nodded. “No cooking or catering required.” Then she grinned. “She probably won’t even hold you to the movie offer.”
He swore he felt his cheeks warm slightly. “Thanks. I’ll, uh, keep that in mind.”
She shrugged. “Just trying to give you an edge.”
“I need an edge?”
Her grin turned a shade wry. “Maybe you’re not used to needing one. But it wouldn’t hurt your chances.”
“What you’re saying is, that women aren’t all that different, no matter the species. So when you come calling, have something in hand.”
Her eyes twinkled. “It certainly never hurts.”
And how was it he’d never noticed the light scatter of freckles across the bridge of her nose? Their implied innocence was so at odds with her knowing eyes and full-bodied laugh. But then, she was a study in contradictions when it came to his reaction to her. What was one more thing?
Somehow they’d come to stand closer to one another than he’d realized. She was stroking Petunia’s neck, and their fingers accidentally brushed across one another. She pulled her hand away, and stepped back. Other than that flash of embarrassment when she’d mentioned noticing his scent, it was the first time he’d seen uncertainty in her expression or demeanor.
“Okay, enough fraternizing,” she said, and he wasn’t sure if she meant him with the horse…or the two of them with each other. She nodded toward the halter. “Time to get that on her if we’re going to get anything else done today.”
“You’re the one who insisted on me making friends first.”
“Here, take the rope.” She handed him the end with the clasp. “Then you’re going to loop the rope over her neck and hook it, making a loose collar and leash, to give you some control over her movement while you put the halter on.”
She moved behind his shoulder and reached past him to show him how to work the rope and slip it around the base of the horse’s neck. He was paying attention, but he was also noticing that she had a nice scent, too. Dammit.
“Now, transfer the rope to your other hand, and carefully slip this end over Petunia’s muzzle.” She turned the halter so it was facing the right direction, but keeping it in his hand.
He felt himself leaning closer, breathing in her scent. Which was dangerous, given his current state of mind—and khakis, but an impulse he seemed helpless to curb. She was wearing overalls that had seen better days. Months, even. And by rights she should smell like a barn. Only she didn’t. And, standing this close, he noticed how smooth and soft-looking her skin was. For someone working such a physical job, exposed to the sun and wind, he’d expect her to look a bit more…weathered. Then there were those freckles sprinkled across the tip of her nose. They were cute, and she wasn’t the cute type. She was no-nonsense and wore her confidence as easily as she did those ancient overalls. What she was not was freckles and soft skin and a slightly lush bottom lip that just begged a man to taste it. Bite it. Just a little.
“Confused?”
If she only knew. He turned just as she went to lean in to move his hand on the harness. The result was his nose, buried in her hair, right where he’d wanted it moments ago, and knew he had no business leaving it. He should be immediately backing up, putting the appropriate space back between them. In his mind, that’s exactly what he did. In reality, though, he took full advantage of the accidental contact and breathed in the scent that was all Elena.
And, he belatedly realized, she was letting him.
Of course, she was more or less trapped between him and a whole lot of horse, but she could have shifted away, or given any signal that she wasn’t enjoying the incidental moment of intimacy.
Like he was.
Even then, his strategic, work-mode brain didn’t kick in. The one that should be telling him to use the moment to his advantage. It was true, he didn’t use sex or seduction as a means to an end, but he didn’t rule out a little flirting. It was a very human, natural form of communication that men and women did on street corners and in elevators every day. Done properly, it lowered defenses and put a potential contact at ease. As long as it was harmless and he could keep his emotional distance, no harm, no foul. But this wasn’t that. This…well, he didn’t quite know what this was. Whatever it was, it didn’t feel all that harmless.
Which was, in the end, what convinced him to put an end to the moment. One of the main rules of his job was, never stay in a situation you don’t understand any longer than absolutely necessary. At the moment, he felt totally out to sea and that was definitely not a typical place for him to be.
“I think I got it,” he said, and shifted away from her to slip the rope over Petunia’s neck, then guide the halter over her muzzle.
Elena reached up and helped him secure the nylon strapping. “Buckle the sides there, and I’ll get the back.”
He fumbled with the unfamiliar rig for a moment as her continued presence deep in his personal space continued to mess with his equilibrium on almost all fronts, then finally got it all snapped into place. He rubbed Petunia’s muzzle and shifted so that his attention
