Dances with Wolf (10 page)

Wolf returned her look.
Is this it?
he wondered.
What’s happening here?
“Okay,” he answered. “I’ll keep the fire stoked.” He gripped the sink with both hands and told himself not to go near the stairs.
Unless…does she want me to? Is it finally time for this to happen, for real?

Abby wore a cast-off blue flannel shirt of his, one Bridget had given him a hundred years ago for Christmas. A scent of geraniums wafted around her. Without speaking, she knelt in front of the fire and began stirring the embers into small flames.

He watched her through half-closed eyes. This was a dream, wasn’t it? Abby at the ranch, all rained-in with nothing to do? Her cheekbones lit up in the firelight again, but this time her eyes were open, and they looked so languid and relaxed. He saw her curves plain as day even under her flannel and jeans. So womanly. There was no getting around it—he wanted her. Bad enough to deal with Bridget’s scorn, Marcie’s mania, even every citizen of his hometown wanting to skin him alive.

“How’s this for a throwback?” he said, approaching the fire. “Wanna play some Go Fish?”

She smiled. “I’m warning you, I play to win.” She bent over the cards, and he closed his eyes as he tried to keep from tracing the tender copper line in her parted hair. Despite her sexiness, she was still the young girl he remembered from his days growing up on the ranch, always up for a game, indoors or out. Tonight the game would definitely be of the indoor variety.

The Jack Daniels appeared again as they moved to five- and then seven-card stud. She spun off the couch and knelt in front of the fire, then stretched her legs behind her and played her cards close to her chest, tallying games won and lost on a chit sheet. He joined her on the floor, head to head. Every time she won, he did a shot. When he won, she did the same, grinning at him as if to say she could take everything he threw her way, and then some.

“I forgot to tell you I can drink with the boys.”

“Oh yeah? Like last night, when you passed out after two glasses of wine?”

“I was tired from the road, not from the wine.”

“Is that so?” He reached for one of her braids and tugged it playfully. She lost her cards but scrambled them back into her hand, competitive to the end. “Hey, that’s cheating.” She flashed a venomous look.

“Wow, you really are taking this seriously.” He wouldn’t pour any more drinks. He wanted to stay clear-minded about what he was about to do. He inched closer to her, wondering if she noticed.

“I had plenty of practice in Spokane. The girls at school, their idea of a fun Saturday night was to memorize the anatomy of exotic animals like coatimundis. So I went out drinking with the guys.”

“Did you, now?” He felt a flash of ridiculous jealousy at the idea of her out on the town with any other guy but him. Then she met his gaze, and for a second, he felt an inexplicable shyness, not something he was used to with other girls. But Abby wasn’t just any girl. She was a woman, a strong, independent woman. Was he ready for her, for the complications that would follow this? Maybe he was, just maybe.

“What’s a coatimundi?” he asked, readying to lean in and plant a kiss on her neck.

“I’ll tell you one thing it’s not,” said Abby, suppressing a hiccup. “It’s not a beautiful quarter horse mix like Bullet.”

“I’ll tell you one thing you’re not,” said Wolf as he reached for her other braid.

“What’s that?”

“You’re not one of the boys.”

He pulled her toward him, cupping her chin with his free hand. He inched toward her as she held his gaze, then planted a no-holds-barred kiss on her lips. He held it, waiting for her response. Would she give herself to him? Or was he taking something that wasn’t his to take? She let her cards fall to the ground and returned his kiss with one of her own. A long one. Her lips were so soft. Her tongue darted inside his mouth, first inquisitively, then with surprising passion. He found himself swept up in her; he wasn’t thinking about getting laid, or what he would do with her body. Instead, he was thinking there was no other place in the world he’d rather be.

The flannel she was wearing slipped to her shoulder as he delicately explored inside it. She pulled back for a few short seconds, then let her fingers play over the buttons, and undid them with a playful, seductive smile on her lips. Then she sat up and pulled off the shirt in one quick motion. In the firelight, her breasts shone like copper.

“Abadabun,” Wolf whispered as he sought her nipples, pressing his mouth on her until he could feel her open to him.

Chapter Thirteen

Abby woke yet again to the sound of her ringing cell phone. The caller ID said, “Bridge,” and she giggled to herself as she realized that her best friend’s brother was sleeping peacefully beside her, his calf draped over her ankle. The look on Bridget’s face if, impossible as it was, she walked in on them right now! Abby ignored the call, but instead of a voicemail, a text appeared. Abby took a deep breath, and read it, in dreaded all-caps: “CALL ME. RIGHT NOW.”

With a feeling like touching ground back home after a blissful tropical vacation, she disentangled herself from Wolf, tiptoed down to the kitchen, and called Bridget back.

“Is that
you
, Abby?”
she asked, barely audible—it was a bad connection.
“You’re actually
alive
?”

“Yep.” She looked out the window to see that the storm, finally, had slowed to a light drizzle. “Alive and kicking.”

“I’ve left you three messages.”

“I’m sorry, reception’s spotty here.” She put on her most serious face. “Bridge,
don
’t make too much of this, okay? But I agreed to help Wolf with his main horse. With Bullet.”

Bridget laughed. “You think I didn’t know that? I was the first one your mom called yesterday.”

“Right, of course.”

“Look, you’re an adult. And I know nothing’s going on. But you gotta be careful around him. He’s—how do I put this?—a persuasive guy. I love him, but he does what he wants, without worrying about anybody else but Numero Uno.”

“
Okay
, Bridge. I can handle it.”

“You can’t say you haven’t been warned.”

“I’ve been warned.”

“So you were only planning on a day trip, huh?”

There was something in Bridget’s tone. Abby could tell she was fishing for information, trying to get Abby to say something she didn’t want to say. “Yeah, but I
had
to stay. Driving all the way back to Bigfork would have been suicidal.”

“Yeah, it was a whopper.”

“Honestly, I’ve never seen anything like it. Hail and everything. Like, grapefruit-sized balls raining out of the sky.”

“Speaking of
balls,
” Bridget said, “Just please tell me you slept in the guest room.”

“Don’t be gross!” Abby laughed. Then, before she could stop herself, she said, “Of
course
I slept in the guest room.”
The first night, at least
.

“That must have been so weird. Being his…house guest.”

“Totally. I mean, the two headboards face each other, with a paper-thin farmhouse wall in between. I could hear him
breathing.
”

“Oh, that’s just creepy.”

“Yeah.” She
had
heard him breathing, of course, but it wasn’t creepy; it was cute. Wolf’s short rhythmic breaths had moved the tiny hairs on her arm—that’s how close they’d held each other in bed—and he looked just like a little boy.

What was Abby doing? While what she had said was technically true of the first night she’d spent at the ranch, omitting the teensy weensy detail that she’d slept with Wolf the following night? Well, she’d just lied to her best friend, for the first time ever. She hoped this wasn’t going to bite her in the butt later. But what choice did she have?

“So, are you going to come back now that the rain’s stopped?”

Again, Abby took note of the weather. “It’s actually still raining. Nothing serious, but it’s still coming down a little.”

“Tell me you’re coming back today. Seriously.”

She felt a surge of justification for her lie. Abby loved Bridget, but more and more she was tired of her mom and Bridget telling her what to do all the time. It was time to declare her independence, once and for all.

“Well, I’ve got a two p.m. session over at the Markley place. I was able to push back a couple appointments yesterday, but I’ve really got to get back into the swing of things.” She looked at her phone. It was already nine thirty. “The only problem is I’ll have to get going pretty quick here if I’m going to make that, and Wolf and I still haven’t water-walked with Bullet.”

“‘Water-walked’?” Bridget laughed. “You training a rodeo mare, or a Messiah?”

“Very funny. We’re doing aqua-therapy. Believe it or not, it actually works.”

“Well, are you going to walk on water with my brother, or keep your appointment with Mr. Jiffy Lube? It has to be one or the other.”

Well, I can always come back here another time. Or two or three.
Suddenly, an extensive training program with Bullet and her owner didn’t seem like an altogether unpleasant prospect.

Despite how annoying it was to acknowledge it, though, Bridget was right. Abby’s time with Wolf had been such a whirlwind, but she wasn’t someone who broke or postponed appointments. On the one hand, she’d made a promise to Wolf, and really, to Bullet, to work with her. She wanted the mare to heal properly, or her hock could become a real injury soon enough. But she also didn’t want to build a reputation as a flake. Matt Markley would cut her some slack because of the storm, but he wouldn’t feel too happy about being postponed two days in a row if he looked outside and saw clear skies. She thought of a compromise: she’d push Markley to four o’clock, and get to work on Bullet this morning. She could cover the basics with Wolf, and he could report on the horse’s progress easily enough.

“Anyway, Abs, I’ve got some news of my own,” Bridget said. “Which, no offense, is a wee bit more exciting than yours.”

Abby could practically see Bridget gloating. “What is it?! Did Mark propose, finally?”

“Well…”

“Come on, tell me. I know he did, I just know it.”

“I’m not saying yes or no. I’ll tell you when you get back to Bigfork.”

“You are evil!”

Bridget chuckled. “Just consider this incentive. I need you back here. You’re my best friend, and this is a best-friend moment.”

“That is so unfair.”

“Get home safe. Give me a buzz when you’re back in home territory. Oh, and don’t breathe a word of this to Wolf.”

Abby heard a click, then silence. She shook her head at the phone. Bridget was a sadist. She hoped it didn’t run in the family.

…

Wolf woke to the welcome sight of Abby standing in the bedroom doorway, wearing his Pendleton shirt, her long coppery legs a beautiful contrast to the shirt’s forest green.

“How long have you been up?” he asked.

“A few minutes. I just talked to Bridget.”

He shot up in bed. “You didn’t…”

“Don’t worry, I didn’t say a thing about this. For
both
our sakes.”

“Thank God.” He lay back down, relieved that he wasn’t going to be the subject of a witch hunt.

“‘Thank God?’” Abby repeated. “You don’t have to look
that
relieved.”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just…you know.”

“I do,” she said. “I do know.”

What a scary thought—for everyone to know about them. He tried to push it back down, but it wasn’t easy. Had he made a mistake here? Hooking up with Abby was absolutely amazing—she was the coolest girl he’d been with in ages, and the sexiest. Plus, they had so much history, it was easy to feel comfortable with her, and just hang out and enjoy the ranch. It had been the best two-day stretch he could remember here. But would Abby want to tell people? Hopefully not, after just a couple days together. They’d gone to bed together; they hadn’t gotten engaged.

He didn’t say any of this, though. That would ruin everything. He just said, “Come back to bed.”

“I wish I could, but I’ve got to get going. The rain’s just about stopped, and I have a two p.m. appointment back in Bigfork. I can push it to four, but—”

Wolf stepped out of bed, nude.

“Oh my God, you’re shameless,” Abby said, covering her eyes. He spun her around and wrapped his arms around her. He could smell her own beautiful scent mixed with his own, coming out of the Pendleton.

“I’m so into you,” he said, nuzzling her, while thinking,
don’t say too much, or go too far.
But he couldn’t help himself. She was just too cute, too sexy, too everything. He
needed
to have his hands on her.

“Oh, me too.” He could feel the warmth of her cheeks as she smiled. For a moment he imagined actually telling their friends and families. Wolf Olsen, tied down, sure, but tied down to the coolest woman he’d ever met. Then he pictured himself literally tied down, like a steer under a cowboy, and smirked. Would that be so bad, being tied down like a roping steer by none other than horse whisperer Abby Macready?

But then he remembered he was going to be on the road for most of the rest of the summer. He imagined having to check in every couple hours, having to recount every single detail of his day over the phone the way most women seemed to demand. And the very idea exhausted him.

“Listen,” she said, pulling away from him, “I brewed some coffee. That’s about all I’ve got time for. Then, I’ll show you some basics with Bullet. After that, I gotta hit the road.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She pulled on her clothes in a hurry and walked down the stairs. He slipped on a pair of jeans and followed her.

She had a glance out the kitchen window. “Aww, the rain’s picking up again. We can’t do aqua-therapy in this. And I can’t stay here to wait out the weather. I’d better hit the road, after all.”

He opened the front door and held out his palm. Then he held it out for her to inspect. “You call that rain? I call it mist. We can totally water-walk in this stuff.”

Abby looked skeptical. “How’s the river look?” She turned around and peered through the back window.

“It looks like it always looks. Still and peaceful as a glacier lake.” And it did, really. There was no danger in that little creek, not to Bullet, not to either of them. As much as he wanted Abby to stay and hang out, of course he wouldn’t have put anyone of any species at risk, just to extend their fling for a few more hours.

Abby looked at her phone, then exhaled. Her eyes shone with something he couldn’t identify—purpose, mischief, some combination of both? “All right, let’s do it, then.”

“Now, that’s what I’m talking about.”

“I’ll show you a basic regimen, one you can more or less repeat daily. When’s your next event?”

“Great Falls Roundup, in six days. Then, Polson, four days after that.”

“Polson, really?”

“Really.”

“Really, as in, I’ll have ringside seats, really?”

“Most definitely. You’re on Bullet’s team now. Plus, the whole family’ll be there.” Another scary thought. He would have to put a damper on this thing with him and Abby if she’d be there sitting in the stands with the entire Olsen clan, and probably Doc and Marcie Macready, too. Either that, or they’d have to keep this secret KGB-tight.

Abby clapped her hands. “Come on, we’d better get a move on.”

“Nah, we need some grub. Just a little. I’ll whip up an omelette.”

Abby picked up two pieces of bread from the loaf on the countertop and popped them in the toaster. “No omelettes.
This
is all we have time for. Coffee and toast, then straight into the water.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said again.

He wore an ear-to-ear smile. But then, sipping his coffee and admiring Abby doing something as simple as buttering toast, he realized that, even with her extension, she was almost gone. He didn’t like the idea of hanging out without her, even in his very own home. It was like he missed her already.

…

“Don’t be afraid,” Wolf said.

“
I don’
t know.” Abby stood above the creek and looked down. The water was running six inches above normal, but it wasn’t like they were about to step into the Atlantic Ocean.

“Nah. It
’
s going to be fine.” Wolf stood next to her and loosely held Bullet
’
s lead line. The mare ducked her head into newly fragrant tufts of grass, pulling and tossing them over her shoulder.

“If you say so.”

“I
’
m thinking, the deeper the better.”
Like I know all there is to know about aqua-therapy.
“Isn
’
t the whole point to let the cold water reduce the inflammation?” He looked back at Abby. She was testing the depth of the water with her boot.

“Yes and no. We want her to feel confident enough about being in the water that she moves, at least a little. The more she moves in water, the better the circulation to the injured area.”

She looked adorable on the shore, waiting to spring into action. He remembered how she’d crouched over him last night, exploring him with long, tapered hands that sprung into action, too. Under the layers of fleece and denim and Gore-tex, Wolf felt himself harden and swell.

“Okay, let
’
s give it a go.” She reached for Bullet
’
s halter and led her slowly into the creek. The mare raised her head as if to ask Wolf
’
s permission, pawed the first pool of water with one tentative stroke, then backed away.

“Bully-girl. It
’
s gonna be fine.” Abby, after using Wolf’s very own nickname for Bullet, turned around and blew into the mare
’
s nostrils. Wolf remembered this was a calming technique, though it seemed a little silly, when a little shot of Xylazine would have done the trick. But that was the whole point, wasn
’
t it? Horse-healers use natural methods, herbal remedies. Abby wouldn
’
t be caught dead with chemicals in her bag.

He watched closely as she ran her hands down the mare
’
s forelegs and rubbed in circles until she reached the horse
’
s fetlocks. She led Bullet further into the creek. Now her back legs were submerged almost two feet, the injured hock covered by gently swirling creek water eddies.

The wind was rising again. Wolf zipped his jacket all the way up and shoved his hands back into his pockets.
If Bonner saw me doing this, he
’
d mock me for the rest of my days. Aqua-therapy, my ass. This falls under the category of you-can-lead-a-horse-to-water-but-you-can
’
t-make-it-do-a-damn-thing
. Bullet seemed oblivious to Abby
’
s ministrations. She nosed the water playfully, then took long sips.