Tethered (The Stables Trilogy #2) (14 page)

The Pony Bazaar and Auction was strange, like Wonderland, but it didn’t bother Maple the way she’d thought it would. She only had to look at the faces of the ponies to see how much they wanted to be there. They were ecstatic, a future at their fingertips.

This wasn’t a slave auction. No one was ashamed of what they were, or what they wanted.

She followed J.B., helping him feed and water the horses. Today was a
good
day, and that made her skittish.

Good things don’t happen to bad girls.

Chapter Twelve

J.B. was a natural showman. It startled Maple. At the ranch and in the surrounding areas, he was known as reclusive. Even with the business he did locally (he’d loaned money to ranchers, including her father), no one ever saw him.

His personality? Well, Maple would never use the word “charming” to describe him. He didn’t win over attention and affection-- he demanded it.

Currently he was showing Leslie off. The way it worked was like this: the first half of the day was spent in these mini “showings.” There were many ongoing showings, but the ponies were divided by price, length of contract, and prestige of the trainer. J.B. Deyton was notorious for his training, and his ponies agreed to long term contracts. It meant they came at hefty prices.

He was showing with three other trainers.

Maple was biased, she knew, but it was obvious that J.B. was superior to the other three. It came down to subtlety and confidence.

She had a hand in the subtlety. She had a hand in this. After they’d arrived, she immediately set to washing and styling the ponies while J.B. went to do his rounds. He explained he needed to see their host, Peyton. A “Bio-Equine Enthusiast,” though J.B. didn’t seem happy with needing to meet with the man. He’d also meet potential buyers.

J.B. had warned her that they may come by their stall.

“I got two rules, Maple. Don’t speak with the buyers and don’t wander off. Just stick to what you know; takin’ care of the ponies.”

She could tell it bothered him to leave her. “I’ll be fine, and I promise to obey.” And she meant it. This was important. Considering J.B.’s actions on the way there, Maple would be crazy to do anything to screw it up. 

Washing and caring for the ponies became a ritual. It was important to her that they look their best. It felt strange, but she was actually sad that she wouldn’t be seeing these women anymore. They’d never spoken. It had taken so long to overcome her envy of them. She still hadn’t, entirely. But she’d taken care of them. Washed them, fed them, made sure they were warm enough. Snuck them cold medicine when they sounded sick.

She’d watched them be refined by J.B. into the perfection they were now.

He led Leslie around a corral, and Maple couldn’t help but admire them both. Leslie was aristocratic in her bearing. Her hair shone, the sun bringing out the red highlights in her dark strands. The thing that set her apart isn’t that she’s better trained than the other ponies (she is) or that she’s drop-dead, model gorgeous (she’s that, too); It’s that she’s underdressed compared to the others.

The competing ponies are lined up with their owners, and not one of them is smiling. They’re dressed in latex, covered in leather, or painted with body paint. It’s showy. Their accoutrements scream
I’m a horse!

Leslie was in what she always wore: a single body harness of slim, worn leather. It was muted and a mahogany color, cracked with age and wear. Bit and bridle. Reins, that were firmly in J.B.’s hand. Tail, dyed to match her hair. It was simple. It was beautiful. She didn’t need flashiness to tell prospective buyers that she’s a horse.

She just
was
one. Her actions and carriage spoke volumes more than a costume.

Oh, and J.B. His hat was pulled low, obscuring his features. He held her reins in one hand and a crop in the other. His shoulders were relaxed, his gait strong and sure. He projected power. He owned this pony. He didn’t need sharp commands or hard discipline.

He knew his shit, and it’s sexy as hell.

Maple’s cheeks flush as she remembers how rough he’d been with her on the side of the road. How completely he filled her. He was ten years her senior. Her boss. He was a widower and struggled with his own mysterious darkness. She knew next to nothing about him.

Yet she was his. For now, at least.

She couldn’t get over how
good
that made her feel. The satisfaction and hope it brought. All the other things would fall in place. She’d let him guide the pace.

He was a master of training. He’d know how and when they should speed up. Slow down.

Leslie was the final pony to be shown. The other four were sequestered in their area of the stable. They’d been fed again, rubbed down, and Maple had brought a small container of coconut oil that she’d used on their skin. It kept them looking fresh and clean, and protected their skin from chapping in the cold. She’d also cut holes in the blankets, placing them over the ponies like ponchos.

When she’d done that, J.B. had nodded his approval. It added a seductive mystery to the ponies when they weren’t on display,
and
it was functional, protecting the merchandise.

A round of applause. J.B. was done with Leslie. He escorted her over to Maple, who took the reins. J.B. brought her for his own reasons, but it helped make him look more enticing to have a handler for his ponies.

Maple snuck some sugar cubes from her pocket and fed them to Leslie. J.B. pretended not to see. The absolute normalcy of the situation was surreal and delightful.

In the stable, Maple began to strip Leslie of her gear. J.B. leaned against the door.

“Well, what do you think?” She liked that J.B. sounded genuinely interested and wasn’t just goading her.

“I think this whole situation is weird, and I still don’t fully understand either side, but it is a lovely event. Very interesting.”

He grunted.

Before they could speak further, there was a rap on the door to their stable. J.B. greeted the visitors and let them in.

Maple was too busy with Leslie to look, until she heard a familiar voice.

“Oh, lovely stable girl, I’m delighted to see you!”

Her head jerked up. She saw Reece, standing there in all his pompous, resplendent glory. He was dressed in a tuxedo, and, despite her dislike of him, Maple had to admit that he looked good. She also hated the leap in her heart at his appearance. Reece had pegged her the minute he’d seen her. He’d known that she liked it dark. Possessive. He’d also known she wanted J.B.

It was his fault that she’d broken J.B.’s rule and found the stable with the pony girls.

Then again, if she hadn’t, she’d probably have just been fired. Sent away. Did that mean she should thank him instead?

His eyes were lit up as they dragged over her, lingering on her hands, which were oiling Leslie. Then he had the audacity to moan. “Oh, stable girl, you know just what to do to turn me on.”

J.B. scowled and started walking back toward the door. “Reece, you’re going to have to leave if--”

But Reece was already disarming, his hands thrown up in defeat, and his smile begging forgiveness. “J.B., you know me, you know I’m just kidding--”

“She’s not up for grabs.”

“Believe me, you made that abundantly clear the last time. My jaw hurt for
weeks
. But I’m not here for Maple. I’ve brought someone who's interested in a pony of yours.”

The other visitor stepped from the shadows. He was immaculately dressed. While he wasn’t in a tuxedo, his suit was tailored and wool. Its cut made his shoulders look sharp and strong, while the narrowed waist and slim-fit pants emphasized a body that spent hours a day at a gym. With cropped blond hair and green eyes that held a wicked gleam, he looked every inch as wealthy and powerful as he was.

This was what the girls wanted when they signed on with J.B.

Maple was scared for them, but damn… she also saw the appeal.

She bit her lip. This man was like J.B. Strong. In control. Filled with darkness. He extended his hand to J.B.

“Micah,” J.B. said in a much warmer tone than the one he’d used with Reece. “It’s good to see you.” They shook.

“You’ve brought some prizes this year, J.B.”

J.B. shrugged. “My stock is always guaranteed. You know I only sell the best. In fact, you know personally. I’m surprised you’re interested in another.”

Another? Maple’s mind jumped into action at that. It had never occurred to her that a man would own more than one pony.

“What does Yvonne say?” J.B. has a poker face on, but the fact that he knows the first name of the gentleman’s other pony can only mean one thing: He’d trained and sold her to the guy.

“Why don’t you ask her yourself?” The man nodded, and Reece went to the door. He returned with a woman who was so stunning Maple’s mouth gaped. Flaming red hair was swept back into a French twist with a few artful tendrils coyly brushing her temples and neck. Her skin was pale and creamy, made more luminous by the hunter green silk she was in. The gown was demure at the front, covering her all the way to the nape of her neck.

But when Yvonne turned, Maple saw there was no back to the dress. It ended scandalously close to  her ample rear. There was something on her back-- she couldn’t quite make it out. Maple was curious. Beyond curious. But she knew her place, and it was right beside Leslie, trying to ignore the commotion, and doing her job.

Doing her job had never been so difficult.

“Hello, Mr. Deyton,” she purred. J.B. preferred to go by his first name, but he didn’t correct her. “It’s been too long.”

“It’s been a year, Yvonne.”

She shrugged, her sculpted shoulder turning it into a seductive dance. “Yes. I won’t say I miss it, either, but I have you to thank for Micah. He’s a perfect match.”

Micah’s eyes shone as she spoke, and his hand slipped to her lower back. He looked at Yvonne with admiration and, well,
love
. It stole Maple’s breath away.

Each step of the way, she thought she’d figured out the relationships between the girls and their owners. She thought she understood what each was craving. Yet she’d also built this image in her head. One that kept the girls powerless and subservient at all times. She’d pictured rich, old men who wanted pets to unleash their perverted desires on with no rules or repercussions.

In short, she pictured relationships like hers with Tony, but with more money involved, and even less freedom for the women. It had been tantalizing and despicable.

Micah and Yvonne moved with the grace of a couple who genuinely knew each other. Respected and cared for each other. He was treating her as his equal.

“I’m glad you’re both happy.” J.B.’s shoulders relaxed, and he even spared them a smile.
 

Yvonne walked over to Ashley’s stall. The strawberry blond was glaring at her, nose flaring. “J.B., I’d like to talk about this one.”

His eyebrow raised a fraction. “Oh? She’s fine stock. Speaks three languages, a capable accountant, free from disease--”

Yvonne’s laugh cut him off. It was a light, tinkling laugh, yet Maple saw it claim the attention of every person (and pony) in the stable. “Oh, J.B., you know I know what they come with. I am looking for… something else.”

She flashed Micah a sultry look over her shoulder, and he nodded, smiling at her. “I want to breed her.”

Well, that was it. There was no way Maple could pretend to be working on Leslie. Based on the tensing of the pony girl beside her, Leslie was just as intrigued as she was. They shuffled closer so they could peer into Ashley’s stall.

Ashley was white, but her cheeks were staining a deep crimson.

J.B. was silent for a moment before stalking to Ashley’s stall and laying a protective hand on her shoulder. “I don’t sell breeders. You know that.”

Yvonne’s lighthearted looks dropped. She became business, morphing in front of Maple’s eyes. “No, you don’t sell for the purpose of breeding. But unless things have changed, you don’t fix your stock, either.”

“Nope. Don’t reckon I do.” His demeanor spoke of a laid-back confidence. His voice was something else. Low. Warning.