Cowgirl, Unexpectedly. Vicki Tharp

laughed. A real one this time, and as I glanced over, I noticed her face was dry and her skin wasn’t all red and splotchy anymore. “Well, don’t go all June Cleaver on me, Mac. I don’t have a problem with trying before buying, but I’m gonna be darn sure I don’t plan on returning him first.”

      I chuckled and shook my head. “Fair enough.”

      Her smile slipped from her face and she grew serious again. “Thank you. It’s nice to have someone to talk to around here.”

      “Your grandmother seems very sweet. I’m sure you could talk to her.”

      Jenna wrinkled her nose and shook her head. “Not the same.”

      I stood and held my hand out to help her to her feet. “Ooh-rah.”

      She quirked a questioning brow at me and suddenly I saw the softer version of her father in her expression.

      “Military slang,” I explained with a smile. “Kind of like a motivational call.”

      Jenna smiled back. “I’ll have to remember that.”

      * * * *

      Hank climbed over the round pen fence with the barest hint of a limp and a scowl strapped on his face, his mood unimproved from when he’d ushered Quinn from the barn at dawn. He stalked to the center and ordered me to take up the posting trot. Ever the good soldier, I followed orders, making sure my heels were down this time. The sooner I got this riding thing down, the sooner I could stop these lessons.

      After changing directions a few times, he had me halt in the center near him. “Not bad,” he said, hands on his hips. “At least, you won’t embarrass Sierra in front of the herd.”

      “Careful, Nash, or you’ll give me a big head.”

      The corner of his lips twitched up. Considering where his mood had started minutes ago, it was practically a rodeo-clown grin.

      Then he proceeded to explain to me the footfalls of the canter, or lope, versus the trot as well as leads, when to use which one and how to ask the horse for the one you wanted. I nodded along, trying to pay attention, but several times, I realized I’d been letting his rich baritone roll over me as I watched his lips move as he spoke. I wasn’t certain I caught everything he said.

      “Parish!” he bellowed like my old drill instructor.

      I shook my head and focused on his words. “What?”

      “Where’s your head? Did you hear anything I said?”

      Quickly, I scanned my brain for what little of his lesson that had sunk in and boiled it down to the essentials. “Put my right leg back for left lead, left leg back for right lead, kiss to go.”

      He glared up at me. I wasn’t sure what he’d wanted, but I met his gaze and refused to turn away before he did. He waved his hand toward the rail indicating for me to move out. “Close enough.”

      As I circled the rail again, Hank explained two ways to start the lope. “You can ask her to lope from either the walk or the trot. Some horses take a big first step into the lope from the walk, but Sierra is smooth from either, so you choose.”

      Since I was already sitting the trot and going counterclockwise, I put my right leg back and kissed to Sierra, asking for the left lead. She surged forward and then settled back into the trot and shook her head and jerked a foot of the reins from my hand.

      “That was on you,” he said. “You asked her to lope, then as soon as she went into it, you pulled back on the reins and shut her down.”

      I nodded and tried again, but this time, I managed to keep my rein hand forward to keep from giving her conflicting signals. I was bouncing around the saddle like a Mexican jumping bean. With my free hand, I grabbed the horn and tried to steady myself in the saddle.

      “Relax your legs and move with the horse. The stiffer you are, the bouncier it will be,” Hank instructed. “Heels down. Relax. Relax.”

      His voice rose each time he told me to relax, which was anything but relaxing. It was a lot harder than it sounded. I had to understand what he was saying and form that information into action while trying not to fall off the horse. I clearly wasn’t getting it, because the ride was still shaking my fillings loose as the round pen fence flew by. How fast was I going anyway?

      “Stop. Enough.” Hank shook his head and motioned me over when I’d brought Sierra down to a walk. I patted her on the neck and silently thanked her for her patience. She stopped in front of Hank’s chest and nudged him with her nose as if reminding him she hadn’t signed up for this shit.

      Hank rubbed her softly between the eyes and murmured something to her I didn’t quite catch, though words like carrots and sugar cubes were liberally mentioned.

      Then Hank glanced up at me, his frustration made creases between his brows. “I assume you’ve had sex before?”

      Amused, I quirked a brow at him waiting to see where his line of reasoning was headed. He took my silence as an affirmative, stepped up beside me, and placed his hands on either side of my hips.

      “Oh!” I exclaimed my voice dripping with melodrama. “Not in front of the horses, dear.”

      “Jesus Christ,” he muttered, but his eyes lit with humor. “Move with my hands.” He rocked my pelvis forward and back. “Pretend you’re on top. You have to move with your horse like you would move with your lover.”

      I swallowed hard against the tightness in my throat as the heat of his hands seeped through my jeans and I rocked with him. His eyes met mine and his pupils dilated, all but obscuring his deep blue irises. He continued the motion long after I’d gotten his point.

      Then he cleared his throat and said, “If they speed up, you speed up. If they slow down, you slow down. Got it?”

      I nodded, not quite trusting my voice not to crack. He released me and I pointed Sierra back to the rail again. I took a fortifying breath and kept the visual in my head. This time, when I kissed her up to speed, my hips and my body went with her. It wasn’t pretty at first, but slowly, I caught on and followed her rhythm.

      “Good, good,” Hank praised as I circled around him. “There you go. Don’t be afraid to move around up there. Reach up and scratch her on the neck or reach behind and rub her on the butt. It’ll help both of you relax.

      “Now try to use your motion to influence her speed. I want you to move your hips faster to encourage her to step it up a notch.”

      When I sped up my motion, Sierra went with me. I smiled, starting to enjoy the speed and the wind in my hair. It was as freeing as riding my steel horse, except the scent of exhaust was replaced by the equally intoxicating ambrosia of horse sweat.

      I glanced over at Hank and he nodded. “Now slow your roll and get her to come back to you.”

      A few seconds passed before Sierra noticed the change of pace, but when she did, she followed me down to a slow, rocking-horse canter. It reminded me of the tiny carousel horse rides in front of the grocery store when I was a kid.

      “Very nice,” Hank praised.

      Then partly because I was feeling a little cocky with my newfound skill and partly because I owed him one, I exaggerated the motion of my pelvis, keeping the same mellow roll. He crossed his arms over his chest and narrowed his eyes at me as if he was trying to figure out what the hell I was doing. I stuck a finger in my mouth and sent him my best porn-star sultry pout. “How nice, Cowboy?”

      His face flushed when he realized what I was doing. He shook his head and dropped his arms. “I think that’ll do it for today,” he said, as he stalked out of the round pen.

      I chuckled, reined Sierra down to a walk, and wondered if every time I loped a horse, I’d forever think of sex.

      * * * *

      After my lesson, Hank and I rode out to meet up with the others. It was going