Chapter 11

I stopped bein' the victim
But you weren't there to see
I never felt bitter
Till you crippled me
I felt like a refugee from the pain
I had to wear that shroud with no shame
Deceit and lies
were your crying game
I never fell in love so deeply in vain

(lyrics from ‘Mr Hurricane’ by Beast)

The mare’s sweat soaked flesh rippled under her fingertips and the horse lifted her head from the straw and looked back, her eyes rolling in discomfort. Chelsea laid a kiss against the mare’s cheek and whispered soft words of encouragement while she did her best to ignore what Jimmy was doing down at the business end and not just because of the fact that at the moment he was elbow deep checking the position of the foal or filly. 

Jimmy was nice to look at. Girl, women who came up for trail rides or lessons sometimes came off their mounts when he walked out of the barn with his shirt open, never mind when his shirt was actually off like it was now and she was no more immune to that particular visual than any other red blooded woman. Plus she knew, as she listened to him settle back into the straw, he was well aware of the effect his physique had on her. Like now, as he wiped his arm off with a towel and tossed that over the side of the stall, he could put his shirt back on, but he didn’t. She considered suggesting that he’d catch a cold if he didn’t but decided against it. That would only suggest she’d been taking in the view.

“Your dad waited up last night. The lights were on up at the house most of the night.” Chelsea was tempted to point out that this meant that he had also been waiting up but instead she shrugged and kept those thoughts to herself. 

“I’m not a little girl anymore,” she reminded him quietly as she stroked the mare’s neck. He made a noise in his throat that she interpreted as half amusement and half agreement. The mare’s entire body shuddered and they both got very still, ready to go to action stations if need be but the soon to be mother laid her head back down on the hay and her breathing went back to normal, or almost normal. 

“So this...rebellion of yours...how’s that going so far?” Chelsea clenched her teeth. She’d known when he hadn’t just asked for her father’s help that Jimmy wanted to talk. She just didn’t want to fight.

“Jimmy don’t, please,” she hissed, doing her best to keep her expression calm and impassive. If the mare so much as caught a sniff of the emotional tumult in the room her stress would be doubled. As it was Chelsea was more than impressed with how calm Snow was being with her first. 

“Is he...does he treat you well?” There were a dozen questions Jimmy could have asked. That hadn’t been the one she’d anticipated. Chelsea glanced over at the tall blonde but he was staring at a space somewhere between his knees where they were pulled up as he sat on the straw with his back against the far wall of the stall. 

“He does actually,” she answered softly. Jimmy nodded and a disdainful grin tugged at the corners of his full lips. 

“I assume this is supposed to be some kind of lesson in humility,” he began, his tone changing from what had sounded like actual concern to something that was far closer to outright scorn. Chelsea didn’t reply immediately. She hadn’t thought of it quite that way. Maybe, she thought, back in D.C. there might have been an element of that, but it had also been about letting go of some of the apron strings she’d felt tied to, of being free. 

“He’s fun, that’s all,” she replied carefully. Not that she wanted to talk to Jimmy about Mike, but she did feel she owed him some kind of explanation. 

“I’m not.” It wasn’t a question, it was a statement and there was anger in his voice as he forced the words out through clenched teeth. Chelsea winced but didn’t answer. Jimmy was quiet and thoughtful, the strong silent type that women always say they want, what she had thought she wanted. Now, as she watched him wring a piece of straw in his long fingers, it was hard to believe that she had really loved the self contained, domineering man whose sky blue eyes now looked more like ice. “So are you just sewing your wild oats, is that it? This is some kind of summer fling?” Mike was gone at the end of the summer, back to D.C., they both knew that, but it wasn’t something they had talked about.

“I don’t know,” she answered truthfully. The mare’s belly rippled as she snorted through another contraction. For a moment Chelsea concentrated on Snow, on soothing her, but it also gave her a moment to think. 

“Am I supposed to wait?” When she looked over at him, for just a moment she thought that Jimmy might actually be going to cry. His eyes were huge and round and when he turned to look at her, tears shimmered in his blue eyes. “Do I wait while you run around and have fun?” 

“I...you don’t have to do anything.” She hadn’t given him or his feelings much thought she realized as she turned her face away from his accusing stare. “Do...do whatever you want,” she added, guilt making her chest tight and her eyes burn as she felt his gaze like a blazing heat focused directly on her. 

“Or whoever?” His bitter chortle made her shudder. “Yeah, I don’t think daddy’s little girl would like that too much. No, I’m not under any illusions that you’d stick around if I did that.” Chelsea took a deep breath. Even though Mike was going back to D.C. at the end of the summer it had never occurred to her that she would go back to Jimmy. Obviously he thought otherwise. 

“You can do whatever or whoever you want Jimmy,” she told him quietly but firmly. She heard him snort in a way that said he clearly didn’t believe her and she ground her teeth together. The mare’s ears twitched and Chelsea forced herself to blow out the breath she was holding. “I don’t expect you to live like some kind of monk, I’m not a child anymore Jimmy. I know you think that this is some kind of rebellious faze I’m going through but....”

“I think we both know that I haven’t thought of you as a child for a long time now.” 

There was anger, bitterness and resentment in that statement but there an underlying message too. If she was trying to lay the blame at his feet, he wasn’t accepting it. It was also a reminder that he held prior claim to her, to her body. Chelsea shuddered, sense memory reminding her of the way his body felt when it moved over hers’. 

She tried to think of a scathing retort or a cutting personal attack but her brain wouldn’t respond, instead sending images of stolen moments in his small room just above their heads, his skin made gold by candlelight, his now icy blue eyes looking more like sun warmed bays in the Bahamas. 

She had loved him, once. 

Chelsea turned her face away, blinking back tears of pride and shame. She heard the rustle of straw behind her, knew by instinct that he was moving towards her, that if she didn’t tell him not to that he would wrap her up in his arms and she’d give in just like she always did and then the mare let out a bellow and thrashed under her hand and when she turned to look the foal’s rear hooves were sliding free.

 ________________________________________________________

He was half way home, Hinder blaring from the speakers, telling himself that he had plenty to do and that he didn’t care that Chelsea had never come back to the house, that she was probably doing it in the barn with that hick from the sticks. He’d almost convinced himself that it didn’t matter to him when he found himself pulling a tire shredding brake squealing e-brake u-turn at an intersection and going back the way he’d just come. 

“I don’t care,” he told himself firmly, slamming his fist against the steering wheel as he waited impatiently at the last light before the turn to the ranch. He could go, tonight, to Cowboys, and take any one of a dozen girls home. “But they wouldn’t be her.” Mike sighed as he backed off the gas pedal and leaned his forehead on his knuckles and took a deep breath. “You’re fucked old boy,” he mused, gingerly easing the Cadillac into the intersection. He thought about turning around again, knowing he had things to do before the boys arrived, but the car found its way to the bottom of the hill, outside the gate. He stared up at the stables and felt a tug, a magnetic draw, as if he’d put on a leash and he had no choice but to follow wherever he was lead. 

Even so, he dragged his feet as he walked towards the stables. He had visions of finding them both there, her pale skin glowing, slick with a fine sheen of sweat, her hair setting fire to the hay, laying beneath that cowpoke. His hands curled into fists as he imagined her in anyone else’s arms but his. 

“So fucked,” he mumbled under his breath as he pushed the door to the stables open. 

“Mike! Come see,” she whispered reverently from where she knelt in the straw, her hands held open, ready to catch the rickety legged foal as it stumbled, trying to gain its feet. Looking over her head, his gaze met her ex’s. There was murder in the other man’s eyes. With a smirk Mike turned his attention back to Chelsea and knelt beside her in the hay. 

“Wow, look at that, he’s already standing.” Mike pressed a soft kiss to her cheek and she turned, grabbed his face and covered his mouth with hers’. 

“It’s amazing isn’t it?” she gushed, turning back to the scene before them. She reached down and laced her fingers with his. Mike lifted their joined hands and pressed his lips to each of her knuckles in turn, all the while holding the gaze of the angry cowpoke. ‘Mine’ his eyes said as he gathered her back against his body and sunk down into the warm straw. 

“I’m so glad you came back,” she whispered, snuggling back against him.

“Me too,” he told her, brushing his lips against her temple as he glared at her ex who was now looming above them both. He watched as the grime covered vanilla gorilla tried to decide whether or not to pull Chelsea out of his arms. He’d seen that look on opposing players when they wanted to fight but knew it wasn’t in their team’s best interest and that they’d probably sit the rest of the game if they did. Mike did what the best shit disturbers in the league did in this situation and grinned at Jimmy. 

With a growl of sheer frustration her ex spun on his heel and disappeared out of the stall. Mike listened until he couldn’t hear the man’s boot heels any longer before he actually allowed himself to relax. 

________________________________________________________________

“No.” 

Chelsea stood with her hand in a stirrup, waiting for Mike to put his foot in it and ignored his answer, despite the fact that he’d now given that same answer four times. Bunty, a patient, elderly wide girthed mare tossed her mane and rolled her eyes as she looked back at him. She too was waiting impatiently for him to mount as she literally chomped at the bit, rolling it over her teeth impatiently as Mike stood on the foot stool and shook his head. 

“I swear she is the tamest, sweetest horse ever. She doesn’t bite, won’t buck and no matter how hard you try to make her, she doesn’t run. We’re just going to take a leisurely saunter up to the high meadow.” Chelsea waited for Mike to give in, but he turned out that he had a stubborn streak. That or he was a big fucking chicken. “Please, for me?” she added, batting her eyelashes in what she hoped was both an endearing and enticing way. Mike looked doubtfully at the saddle on the mare’s wide back again and pulled a face that made it clear exactly what he thought of this idea.

“There’s a clause in my contract strictly forbidding me from doing dangerous shit like this,” he told her, his face brightening as if he was proud of himself for pulling that particularly nugget out of his ass. Chelsea shook her head. 

“Then either get your agent on the phone and have him read to me where it says you can ride that putt-putt scooter of yours on the freeway or get on the damn horse Green,” she ordered, reaching up to scratch the blaze between the mare’s eyes. Mike grumbled again and reached for the stirrup.

“Fine but if I pull a groin just getting on this thing....” he began as he hoisted himself into the saddle. 

“Put it this way, there won’t be any more groin pulling if you don’t,” she giggled as she waited while he settled himself before she handed him the reins over the mare’s twitching ears and then turned and headed towards her own patiently waiting mount. “Don’t you throw me today Poppy,” she warned the appaloosa as she untied the reins from the hitching post and draping them over the horse’s neck. As she put her hand on the pommel of the saddle to hoist herself up she felt a pair of hands lifting her trailing leg and looked back to see Jimmy bent, ready to hand her up and his gaze locked on hers. He looked stricken and her heart cracked.

“Your Gran sent a care package,” he said quietly, tilting his head to indicate the picnic basket at his feet. It felt like he had reached into her chest and squeezed her heart like an overripe peach as she looked down the old fashioned basket with the gingham blanket wrapped over the food. Chelsea glanced at Jimmy but there was no indication of malice or any kind of negative intent in his expression. This was not a reminder of his almost proposal, it really was only what he said it was. 

Tentatively she put her shin in his laced fingers and let him hoist her up, swinging her free leg over the saddle. She didn’t need the help, she could mount Popcorn in an Indian roll bareback, but she knew that doing something chivalrous was his way of saying he was sorry.  

“Have a good ride,” he offered quietly. 

“Thanks.” It wasn’t for the hand up and it was pretty clear that they both knew that as he met her apologetic gaze with a resigned smile of his own. “C’mon Poppy,” she clicked her tongue and gave her mare a gentle kick, getting her moving in the right direction. 

“Don’t worry, Bunty will follow wherever Popcorn goes.” She didn’t dare look back, afraid the look of shock on her face at hearing Jimmy speak so civilly to Mike would worry him and that Jimmy would mistake it for something more than it was. Still, it was progress she thought as she heard the click of Bunty’s hooves following close behind her own mare’s. 

“I think you should put this one on a diet,” Mike called out to her. 

“She’s a Percheron, she’s supposed to be a bit wide in the hips,” Chelsea called back as they began to saunter at a walking pace up the path. “Besides, I thought you liked a girl with a little junk in her trunk,” she called back, turning to look back to see him swaying slowly on the back of the horse.

“When I get off this pot bellied horse of yours,” he grinned back at her, “I’m going to give your junk a good spanking.” 

“Promises, promises,” she grinned back and then gave Popcorn a squeeze with her knees, clucked with her tongue and set her mare to a trot, laughing when she heard his cry of dismay as Bunty’s large frame began to suddenly move more quickly sending him bouncing like kid on a trampoline.

_____________________________________________________________

“I had things to do today,” he sighed, head tilted up to catch the sun. 

“I don’t see a leash.” Mike’s hand stilled in her hair and he looked down at where her head rested in his lap to see a glazed, far-away look on her face.

“I wasn’t complaining,” he began and she turned her head to look up at him, her gaze suddenly focused.

“I know,” she reached up and brushed her fingers along his be-whiskered chin. “I must be tired and grumpy because someone kept me up all night.” 

“Kept you up? More like the other way around,” he laughed, moving his fingers out of her hair and down into her ribs, digging them in and tickling her until they were had both rolled off of the picnic blanket and into the tall grass. “You’re beautiful,” he whispered, surprising himself with the gentle tone of his own voice as he brushed a curl from her cheek.

“You’re just saying that because you want to get into my jeans,” she grinned back at him. For about one second Mike considered agreeing and blowing it off but then his mouth started to move and words spilled out before he had a chance to edit them. 

“I’m just gonna go ahead and say I think there’s a little more goin’ on here than sex.” He waited for her to expression to soften, for her to say something back but as she squinted up into the sun the only look on her face was carefully controlled. It reminded him of the way that Backsy looked at a camera after a loss, his true emotions screwed down tight. 

Mike’s heart raced. He was always doing this, falling too hard, too fast, jumping in with both feet before he checked to see how deep the pool was. This was exactly why he didn’t do relationships. Ever since he’s passed a note to Heather Sands in fifth grade saying he liked her only to have her laugh and show it to all of her friends it seemed like he was always the one to blow his wad first and, running a mile ahead only to end up a mile behind. 

He cursed quietly and went to roll away but her hand reached out and grabbed a fistful of his t-shirt. He looked down at her hand and then at her. She wasn’t wearing the soft, thoughtful expression he’d hoped for, but she was smiling.   

“I just got out of something that was going too fast, remember?” she whispered, pulling his lips down towards hers’. “Let’s not put labels on this okay? Let’s just have fun,” she added, pressing her lips up against his. 

At first he didn’t kiss her back. He was feeling self-conscious and a little mortified by putting himself out there and being slapped back down, but when he heard her unsnap the button on the top of her jeans and she lead his hand down towards her soft, warm core, he forgot to feel anything but how much he wanted her. He knew she was using her body, the promise of sex, as a distraction, a way of avoiding the conversation he’d begun but he was too much of a boy to ignore the way the slick heat of her beneath his fingertips felt and the rush of knowing that he could make her wet and better than that, make her scream his name.  

Mike pushed the thin, white t-shirt she’d changed into up over her bare breasts and cupped one in his hand, bringing her nipple to his mouth, swirled his tongue around it and sucked it between his teeth. She whimpered as he slid two fingers up into her heated pussy and lifted her hips off of the ground, trying to wiggle and force his fingers to slide to where she wanted them. Mike obliged by pressing his thumb over her clit, causing her to emit a long low wail. 

Still feeling a little bruised by her rebuff, Mike was determined to make her beg for release. Abandoning her pleasure button, he concentrated instead on making her juices flow, dipping his fingers in and gently stroking that spot inside of her that made her whimper, squirm and finally hump his hand, trying to get off. 

“I don’t think so, not yet,” he growled into her neck, pinning her with half of his chest while he used his fingers to fuck her, hard and fast. Her nails dug into the back of his neck and shoulders as he bit down on her earlobe and listened to her emit a long, high pitched whine. Her body pressed up against him and she rubbed her thigh against his erection. 

“Fuck me,” she whimpered and he shook his head. 

“Almost, not yet” he panted, jamming his fingers up into her pussy and pressing them against her g-spot over and over again until she tipped her head back and screamed. Then, as her body went slack beneath his, he got to his knees, grabbed her jeans, yanked them off and then tossed them aside. He was reaching for his own zipper when that damn voice in the back of his head started in on how beautiful she looked with afterglow giving her skin that tinge of gold and making her green eyes glow. 

She just wanted sex. He wanted to...well...more. Ignoring the sound of Brooks and Ovie laughing and calling him a pussy in the back of his head, Mike stood and offered her a hand up.

“We should probably get you back down to the house. I really do have some shit I have to do.” She stared up at him like he’d just done something outrageous and rude and as much as he tried to look cool and casual Mike knew he was squirming around on the inside like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar. The way her eyes narrowed he knew she didn’t buy it but she didn’t press the point. She let him help her up but the way she snapped her jeans out of his hand when he offered them to her said a mouthful. 

She was letting it go, for now, but he was firmly in the doghouse. 

That was fine, he thought to himself as he rolled up the blanket and tried to stuff it back in the basket. By the time he saw her again maybe he’d have found his balls and wouldn’t feel like such a fucking sissy.