Page 21 of Too Hot To Handle

„If you’d eaten Cookie’s slop, you’d know why. Only thing he could do worth a damn was beans and biscuits. A man can get real tired of beans and biscuits three meals a day.“ Jed took a big bite out of the sandwich while he waved with his free hand at the corral where a placid old mare with the unlikely name of Twinkletoes stood dozing three-legged in the sun. „She’s all yours.“

Tory picked up the bridle that Jed had hung over one of the corral posts, ducked it through the cross poles and bridled the mare. While the horse chewed the carrot, Tory brushed her down, smoothed the saddle blanket into place and dragged the heavy saddle off the fence.

„Don’t forget the stirrup,“ mumbled Jed around his last bite of sandwich. „If that chunk of wood comes slamming down on her ribs, even old Twinks here might cut up a bit.“

Dutifully Tory hooked the right stirrup over the saddle horn before she swung the bulky saddle onto the mare’s fat back. With a grunt and a few muttered words Tory got the saddle into place. Fastening the cinch came next. Twinkletoes knew it, too. Casually the mare took a breath that swelled her barrel to half again its usual size. Tory took a deep breath as well – she didn’t like what she was going to do, but there was no other way. She brought her knee up smartly into the mare’s barrel. With a disgusted whoosh the mare gave up and let out all the extra air. Quickly Tory tightened the cinch. Twinkletoes stood docilely, unruffled by the whole process.

„Good job,“ said Jed, sipping at the steaming coffee before setting it aside. „Now gather the reins in your left hand.“

Tory did.

„Uh, better try that again,“ said Jed, walking over until he stood just behind Tory. „If you got on now, by the time you sat in the saddle, the left rein would be laid so hard across her neck that she’d be turning in little circles. Do it like this.“

Jed reached over Tory’s shoulders with both hands. Holding the reins in his left hand, he raised his hand until it was on the horse’s mane just in front of the saddle horn. With his right hand Jed adjusted the reins until they were even on both sides.

„See?“

Tory nodded.

„Now you do it,“ said Jed, dropping the reins. They fell on either side of the mare’s neck and dragged on the ground, for Twinkletoes’s bridle didn’t come equipped with the single loop of a roping rein.

Tory picked up the reins and did exactly as Jed had done.

„Good. Now,“ said Jed, putting his arms over Tory’s shoulders again, „grab either some mane or the saddle horn in your left hand and – don’t drop the reins! – stand by the mare’s left shoulder. Take the stirrup in your right hand, turn it toward you, put your left foot in, step up like on a ladder and swing your right leg over the saddle at the same time. If you have to, you can haul yourself up with your right hand on the cantle – that’s the back of the saddle that sticks up. Okay?“

Tory had watched the men often enough to have memorized the basic movements. She also had had a lot of practice doing unlikely maneuvers while moving through the air. Being able to use her left hand and foot as stable pivot points was a definite treat after some of the complex dives she had mastered. Besides, she knew that Jed wouldn’t tear a piece off her if she didn’t get it right the first time.

As though she were getting ready for a dive, Tory mentally reviewed all the moves she had to make. Then she turned the stirrup, stepped into it and swung her leg over the horse’s fat rump.

„Hey, that was slick, Tory. You been practicing behind my back?“ asked Jed, grinning up at her and casually swatting her leg in congratulations.

„That’s just what I was going to ask,“ Reever said.

Tory froze. She looked from Jed’s smiling face to Reever’s unsmiling one.

„If I’d known you wanted something to pat and play with,“ Reever continued, giving Jed a cold stare, „I’d have found you a stray dog.“

Jed took his hand off Tory’s leg as though he had been burned. He turned to face Reever.

„Thought I told you to ride the east pasture,“ Reever said, giving Jed no chance to speak.

„I did. A few posts near the slough need work.“

„Then get to it“

Although Reever’s tone was calm, there was a chill in it that made the words bite like an ice-tipped wind. Jed didn’t bother to point out that it was only two hours until dinner and he had already put in a full day. He just jerked his hat into place and left. Tory began to dismount „I thought you wanted to learn how to ride,“ Reever said to her in the same tone that he had used on Jed. „Or was that just an excuse to have Jed’s hands all over you?“

„They weren’t all – “ began Tory hotly, only to be cut off by Reever’s slicing words.

„Shut up or get down. But if you get down, you can be damned sure that you’ll never learn to ride as long as I’m boss of the Sundance.“

Tory closed her eyes and her mouth and took a deep breath. When she opened her eyes, Reever was watching her with an expression she didn’t understand, as though he rather than she were being ripped apart. He walked over to the mare and stood looking up at Tory with winter-gray eyes. He was so close that she could feel the vital heat of his body. Except for yanking her out of the henhouse, he hadn’t been this close to her in all the weeks since she had cooked her first meal for the Sundance hands.

„The stirrups are too long,“ Reever said, his voice calm as he stripped off his leather gloves and stuffed them into his hip pocket. He put his hand on Tory’s calf and eased her leg away from the stirrup. With quick, clean motions he took up the leather before placing her foot back in the stirrup again. „Rest your weight on the ball of your foot, not the arch. Like this.“

It took all of Tory’s control not to shiver at the touch of Reever’s hands on her leg. She felt chills all the way to her fingertips. She took a shaky breath as he went around the mare’s rump and adjusted the right stirrup. When his hands closed over her right leg, she trembled.

Tory watched Reever’s hard, sun-browned hands move almost caressingly over her leg as he placed her foot just so in the stirrup. She wanted to ask him if he had to stand so close, if his chest had to brush against her knee, if her leg had to be pressed so intimately down the length of his hard, warm torso as he adjusted the position of her leg in the stirrup. The bare flesh of her ankle felt as though it had been burned, and all he had done was touch her for just an instant with his fingertips.