Stabled (The Stables Trilogy #1) (5 page)

Maple was only able to speak to him this much, this openly because her attention was torn between J.B.’s questions and the paperwork on her lap. There was a lot more than she’d expected, much of it with very fine print.

“You paid more attention to the others, though. The ones that aren’t abstract. How do they make you feel?”

Horny. Desperate. Like I’m trapped inside my skin and need someone to whip me out.
“They seem like Goya, but if there is any metaphor or allegory in them, I’ve missed it.”

This was the one area she didn’t feel modest in. When she’d studied the two disciplines, she had fallen into the books, the lectures, often speaking to her professors at length outside of class. Her need to please had driven her to learn as much as possible. She wasn’t an authority, but she felt confident when discussing art. It was the one place her anxiety didn’t try to strangle her.

“I’m the artist,” J.B. murmured. “Of the abstract paintings, at least.”

Her throat constricted, making it hard to breathe. She was stunned. Apparently even in this she was susceptible to her crippling self doubt. The army of thoughts barrelled in.
Did I offend him? Why did I say anything? Will he fire me now? What do I even know, maybe he just likes to paint black shit on canvas? A cowboy artist? Who the fuck does that? Oh God, I
did
offend him, I just know it. Can I just get up and leave--

“You’re observations were correct. They are a celebration.” He didn’t elaborate and no amount of curiosity would spur Maple into asking now. Her cheeks and neck were burning and she escaped into the paperwork, unable to continue the conversation with J.B.

She pictured him standing in front of a giant, blank canvas. At his feet a bucket of black, ready to stain the pristine white. To alter it forever, each stroke of his brush claiming it as his.

One set of papers--the largest one-- grabbed her attention. “An NDA? Why do I need to sign this?”

J.B. leaned back in his chair, hooking an ankle on his knee. Sitting like that showed how muscular he was. His shirt buttons stretched across his chest, his jeans pulled tight against his hips and thighs and--

“It’s no secret I’m a wealthy man, Maple. My father started as a hundred-head ranch. Before he passed it on to me, he had well over ten thousand head of cattle, and he was dabbling in oil. At the time, it was worth millions. Now, under my hand, it’s worth billions.” He rubbed his stubble, scrubbing away some errant thought. “I’m not telling you this to brag. I’m saying it because one doesn’t become this wealthy without some secrets. If you’re my employee, I expect you to keep them.”

She started to get caught up in the word ‘secrets’ when something else grabbed her attention. “Your accent is gone.” He’d said more to her since finding her with the art than he had all day. On the phone and in the stable, he’d had a strong West Texas accent.

“So’s yours,” he smirked. “I reckon it’s for the same reason, too. Out here, it helps to hide our differences.”

Oh, he didn’t know the half of it. Maple found a soft, small delight in knowing they had this, and the art, in common. And secrets-- they had secrets in common. Of course, she was still mortified over her analysis of his work, but he hadn’t kicked her out of his home, or called her names, or done, well, anything to her.

It was strange not being scolded for speaking up, like her parents had, or punished for it, like Tony did. If anything, it felt as if J.B. was encouraging her to step out of her shell. It was exciting to have someone interested in her opinion. But instinct made her want to clamp down and withdraw, because it also made her feel exposed and under scrutiny.

She signed the NDA and the other paperwork quickly.

“When did you finish school, Maple?” he asked as he took it, made photocopies, and gave her the copies.

“I didn’t.” Maple didn’t want to discuss it. Too many questions. While she was intrigued by his secrets, she wanted to guard her own heavily.

He pushed the issue. “Why?

“College turned out to not be for me.”

He gauged her then, scrutinizing her face. Her ears burned. “That’s a lie, Maple. I’ll let it go, because this is just chat, but don’t lie to me again.”

Maple swallowed hard. How could she respond to that? How did he know how much she missed the classes, the learning? She couldn’t tell him the real reason, couldn’t tell him about Tony or that awful night or--

“Work starts early around here. I expect everyone to do their share.” J.B. led her to the door.

As she stood in it, he hovered close, his mismatched, impenetrable stare locked on her. “Don’t forget the rules, Maple. You have more than enough work each day in your stable.”

He paused, lips parted like there was something else, but nothing came. Just a nod and the door shutting softly in her face.

Chapter Five

It was after two A.M. and Maple couldn’t sleep. Everything hummed; her mind, full of questions. Her body, full of desires she hadn’t anticipated ever facing again. The lingering, persistent memories of Tony’s cruel smile and harsh hand.

Her new room was taking getting used to, as well. Shadows fell differently than those in her old room at her parents’. There weren’t any of the reassuring creaks and groans of the farmstead. Everything here was cold and dark at night, and above all, it was
silent
. The silence was what unnerved her. It left too much room for imagination.

Eager to fall asleep, but knowing it wasn’t coming yet, Maple decided to go for a walk outside. She thought she’d go look at the stable on her own, smell the horses and hear their comforting snorts. The walk might clear her mind enough to grab a precious few hours of sleep before she started her new life the next day.

She pulled on the jeans she’d left crumpled on the floor and then her boots. Stepping into the hall, she tread as lightly as she could. Fortunately these were work boots she’d had for years, broken in and butter soft. Her footsteps barely registered.

It was so clear and starry out that she didn’t need a flashlight. The moon lit the way, shadows thrown from the low shrubs and long, spiked grass.

Maple opened the stable doors slowly, not wanting to disturb the horses. She could hear their soft breaths. Padding by each stall, she looked at each one, so distinct in markings and temperament. It was a pleasant surprise to come to Bonnie’s stall and see the older horse awake. Maple slipped in and stroked Bonnie’s graying muzzle.

“Hey girl,” she whispered. “Can’t sleep, either?” The large black eyes met hers, almost impossible to see in the dark. The horse let Maple pet her, occasionally nuzzling her back. Bonnie was already the highlight of the job, Maple thought. Loving and quiet, eager for Maple’s hugs and soft words of comfort.

Slowly, Bonnie began to sag, and Maple let her lie down in the stall. She pulled a blanket over the older horse to keep away the early morning chill. “Sleep well, sweet girl.”

Just before she left, she looked in on Bane. The huge horse was sleeping. He looked magnificent. Peaceful.
All monsters look peaceful in their sleep.

As soon as she thought it, Maple knew she was wrong. Bane wasn’t a monster. He was just wild. It crushed her to know he stayed cooped up in this little stall. Vowing to ask about Bane again, she whispered a ‘goodnight’ to him, too.

Outside, she started to feel sleep tugging at the corners of her mind. It had been calming to get fresh air. To move about the ranch, unnoticed and thoughtful, taking in this place that was now her home. Maple knew it was time to go back to bed, but a light caught her eye.

The other stable.

Lights were on inside. She crept up, all the while hearing J.B.’s husky voice telling her
off-limits
.

I won’t go inside. I’m just going to peek in. Peeking can’t be off-limits.

But the pounding in her heart told her that trying to look inside was just as off-limits to J.B. as trying to enter. She stole closer.

As she got to a window, there was a rustling at the door. Her pulse raced and she darted around the corner of the stable, dropping to her belly in the dirt and grass. The light on the ground in front of her, cast from the window, went dark. The clang of the door opening and shutting jolted her, adrenaline spiking through her system. She heard a few clicks.

Whoever it was waited. Maple held her breath as much as she could. Her body was frozen, her muscles clamped tight to keep from making noise. Inside she was cursing her curiosity, which was about to cost her a job before twenty-four hours were up. It wasn’t just fear of being fired. She was scared of J.B.  Scared of him in a way she’d never feared Tony. J.B., despite his intoxicating, sexy appeal, seemed capable of
anything
. She’d seen it in those dark, celebratory paintings. Hidden in those broad, angry brush strokes was something inky and dangerous.

It takes one to know one.

Was that why she was so curious about this? Did she need to know what a man like J.B. was so determined to hide?

Painfully slow, she shifted her body so that she could peek around the corner. Standing in shadows was J.B. He had his cowboy hat on, despite the darkness. It masked his features. His body was clear enough, though. The strong, muscular shoulders and lean waist. Tall, seeming even larger from her angle. A giant. His hand was pressed against the stable door. Holding it shut like he was trying to lock something dangerous inside.

She scooted, as slowly and silently as she could, back an inch to the protective side of the stable.

Soft footsteps crunched as she watched J.B.’s dark figure walk at a clip back to the house. He was all black shadow, cut against the light of the moon. Like a monster. Or a demon. Her body was reacting like that was
exactly
what he was, with clammy skin and quivering limbs.

When she was sure he was in the house, Maple crawled on hands and knees to the window. Slowly, afraid despite knowing she was alone, she tried to look through the window. It was pitch black inside; all she could see were the vague hints of stalls. She slid along the front to the door. The clicks she’d heard were locks; a deadbolt and a padlock.

What kind of stable required this level of lockdown? The entire building was unusual, she saw, her eyes barely picking out the odd details. It wasn’t open anywhere-- no exposed slits for air. It was built tight and secure, more like a house or storage. She heard a hum and investigated, discovering an air unit attached to the side. Climate controlled. A water pump. It only
looked
like a stable from a distance.

The only thing Maple could come up with was that this was where J.B. painted. All signs pointed to it; the size would make a decent studio and artspace. The climate control. Even the locks; if he wanted to protect his art, she supposed. Though out here, who was he protecting it from?

It didn’t sit right. Something argued with the assessment in her mind. It was the way J.B. had cut her off when she asked about it. The fierce, wild look in his eyes. He’d told her it was forbidden. He’d also told her about his art. Why wouldn’t he have just told her if this was where he worked?

Damn it. Her late night excursion had been meant to calm her down. To soothe her into sleep. Instead, Maple’s mind was whirling around, more full of questions than ever.

As a carrier of a secret, she knew she should respect this one. But she was Pandora, and this box was begging to be opened.

You know how that turned out.

Chapter Six

“Wait, wait, wait. J.B. told you about his
art
?” Raúl was helping her muck Bonnie’s stall. He’d finished work early and come to help her with Bane. J.B. had been right, she had more than enough work in the one stable when she was on her own.

Maple was tired. Bone-ache tired. But she’d been tired before, and she knew how to push through it. It didn’t hurt that her body was still keyed up from the night before. The jolt of adrenaline when she remembered almost being caught slinking around the forbidden stable was more potent than coffee. 

That wasn’t what was truly on her mind, though. J.B. was. His lithe body. His chiseled jaw and dark, curly hair. She remembered their discussion about art, the way his eyes grew wild and daring as he admitted to painting. God, and those paintings…

He’d admitted they were a celebration. But the colors, the formless slashes and strokes of paint, spoke of violence. Her breaths grew shallower as she guessed at what it could mean. All she knew was, art interpretation was up to the beholder. What she saw in those angry, triumphant paintings was a wanton wickedness that felt uncomfortably familiar.

J.B. had fueled several filthy fantasies that even her hour-long cold shower hadn’t cured. She was jonesing. It was embarrassing, but if she was going to stay here, she’d need to order a vibrator. Something that came in a nondescript brown box.

She cursed Tony, cursed her body, cursed her twisted mind. And she planned on working so hard she could erase all of it, leaving her a blank, docile slate. Escaping into the job wasn’t turning out the way she’d hoped.

Raúl’s company was welcome. She was surprised to find she felt more at ease with him when it was just the two of them. It didn’t hurt that he was cute, like an eager little brother. His dark, Hispanic looks and eager smile were things she might have been attracted to before Tony had warped her. Now she didn’t want eager, she craved sadistic.

It also helped that he was able to keep a conversation going--  he didn’t even need her to contribute often.

“Well, he didn’t tell me about it, exactly. He caught me looking at it. I told him I majored in Art History, and then we discussed school a bit.”

Her stall mate was leaning on his pitchfork, mouth open. “Maple, J.B. doesn’t talk to anyone. Not even Mariela and me, and we’ve known him the longest.” His nose wrinkled like he smelled something unpleasant. “You didn’t tell me any of that stuff last night, about school or anything about you.”

“You kind of bombarded me. I’m not real social, Raúl, in case you didn’t notice.”

“I get it,” he said, winking. “You’re one of those mysterious types. All quiet and bookish, but a freak on the inside, right?”

Maple dropped the armful of hay she had, spinning in dismay. His hands were already flying up in apology. “Joking, joking.” The mirth in his eyes told her he was picturing her and freaky things, though. Some part of her wanted to laugh; he didn’t know the half of it. The other part wanted to cringe, because Raúl’s harmless flirting was moving their relationship quickly into an awkward place.

“He does seem closed off, though,” she agreed. “Is he married? Dating anyone?” It was dangerous to pry like this, but when it came to J.B., she was like a baby with a wall socket-- curious, regardless of the risk.

Raúl’s manner changed. His shoulders stiffened and he worked faster, sloppier. “No. He’s single. Used to be married, though.”

“What happened? Divorce?”

Raúl froze, staring at her hard. When he spoke, each word was weighted. “An accident. She got hurt bad in the head, and died a few days later.” He wasn’t telling her everything, that was for sure. What kind of accident? Where? Raúl could see the wheels turning in her head, she thought, because he said, “She was beautiful. And kind, and loving, and all the things you want in an employer. J.B. loved her something fierce. But no one talks about it. At all.”

There it was. Another shut door. Another mystery to pique her interest. A ghost wife that no one would talk about. She knew no one else would, because Raúl was the only chatty person on the ranch. If he wouldn’t spill, she was out of luck. 

She decided on another approach. After all, she was dying to have at least one riddle solved. “So what’s up with that other stable?”

This time she’d struck a nerve for sure. Raúl angled his body away from hers, so she couldn’t see his face. “There’s nothing up about it. Empty. We don’t even have enough horses to fill this one.”

“Then why have it? And why is it locked?”

He whirled on her, face drawn with fear. “How do you know it’s locked?”

Damn
! She’d stepped right into that. Quickly, Maple dodged. “J.B. said it was off-limits, I just assumed that meant he kept it locked up.”

It was clear Raúl didn’t believe her, but they were at an impasse. He couldn’t admit to knowing any more about the stable without opening himself to a barrage of questions. She couldn’t admit to sneaking out to try and discover on her own what was so taboo on the ranch that it required this level of lockdown.

“Well,” he said slowly, everything about him wary, “that was a good guess. J.B. has things he likes to keep private, Maple. That’s his business.”

“Okay, sure.” She wasn’t going to get any more out of him tonight, it was obvious. Frustration rolled through her, both sexual and irritated, and she was forced to shut her eyes for a moment, pushing it back in. Burying it behind the wall built inside.

Raúl interrupted her thoughts with one more thing. “J.B. is
very
protective of his business, Maple. Don’t fuck with him.” There was no hint, no subtlety to this warning.
Don’t fuck with him.
Raúl sounded both worried for her and protective of J.B., and it added another layer to the mystery. What was their relationship?

This is why you need to stop asking questions.
She knew it, too. She was poking her finger in a hole without knowing what was inside.

They worked without speaking for a little while, but Raúl wasn’t the type to tolerate silence for long. “Are you sweet on J.B.?” There was no avoiding the guarded jealousy in his voice, but Maple was more concerned with the question and what Raúl was implying.

“No,” she lied. “He’s my boss. He’s probably too old for me. I probably won’t even see him much.”

“Yeah, probably,” Raúl visibly relaxed as he said this. “And he
is
too old for you. Thirty-five. Me, on the other hand, I’m a youthful twenty-four, just the right age for you.” Another wink that Maple pretended not to see. Her mind was weaving all the new threads of J.B. information together.

They finished out Bonnie’s stall. Maple led the old horse back in. Bonnie was her favorite, a kindred soul. She ran her hands up and down Bonnie’s mottled neck, allowing the mare to nuzzle her ear. After giving Bonnie some apples, Maple prepared for her final challenge. Bane.

The black horse was stomping in his stall, hooves thundering off the concrete. Raúl’s shoulders were tense, his hands on a lasso.

“You aren’t serious,” Maple started, eyebrows pressed together. “You can’t lasso that horse! He’ll carry you through the desert and back!”

Raúl nodded. “Sure. That’s why I tie it off. Lasso, tie off, lasso another, and use a pulley to kind of force him out, clean the stall quick, let him back in.”

“You don’t take him out? Let him run around?”

Raúl gave her a condescending smile and, despite being grateful for his help and company, Maple kind of wanted to slap him. “Look, Bane’s a beast. He’s evil and J.B. doesn’t want him out. His stables, his rules. They’re there for a reason, Maple. Bane’s killed someone.”

Her step faltered. “Bane’s killed someone and they didn’t put him down? How is that even allowed?” Maple was a little afraid of showing her inexperience in horse matters, but the situation seemed ludicrous to her. Even if they didn’t punish the horse (and she didn’t think they should), why would J.B. keep him?

Raúl shrugged before looping the lasso around Bane’s neck. Immediately the horse began to thrash, and Raúl struggled to tether the rope.

“Maple, help me!”

She ran and grabbed the rope. Unlike Raúl, she wasn’t wearing gloves. Immediately the sliding friction of the rope burned and stung her palms. Gritting her teeth, Maple tightened her grip. They pulled, digging heels in and grunting, until they were able to tether the rope. Quickly, they did the second. With it, she was able to open the stall, run back, and watch as Raúl dragged Bane out, the horse’s angry winny so shrill it hurt Maple’s ears.

She mucked the stall as quickly as she could; Bane’s furious stamps and snorts driving her. It was a half-assed job. As Raúl maneuvered the giant horse back in, she saw how mangy his tail was and how overgrown his hooves were. Bane was suffering because of this, and it was creating a vicious cycle.

“Are you sure you can’t just let him in the pen? He needs to run.”

“Listen, Maple. I’m not going to tell you how to do your job. But this is one horse J.B. isn’t willing to risk his employees with. Don’t try to do anything on your own.”

Maple let it go; it wasn’t in her personality to be forceful. After all, what did she really know? A week’s worth of mucking stalls and caring for horses in middle school,and suddenly she was the horse whisperer? Her shirt was soaked with sweat and her heart was still pounding from helping hold the rope as Bane went back into the stall. No, she was the last person who should be second guessing Raúl and J.B., especially when it came to a dangerous horse like Bane.

She and Raúl collapsed on the spare clean hay. Her arms ached and she had rope burn on her palms. She ran her fingers up and down the ripped skin. It stung and she hissed.

“Let me see,” Raúl said, holding out his hand.

Hesitant, Maple lay hers in it, palm up. He took it gingerly, and used her fingers to open the palm more. “Ouch!”

“Be still, you big baby.”

He was bent close to her hand, giving Maple the opportunity to look at him closer. Raúl was handsome in a boyish way. His brown skin and dark mop of hair were charming. As he concentrated, the tip of his tongue poked out. Definitely cute. It didn’t help that J.B. had managed to rachet her body’s need up to unbearable levels. At this point, just about anyone would look good if they’d lay her rough and fast.

With the sting of pain from her hand and the closeness of a boy’s body, Maple felt something shift. Another loose mortar in the barrier in her mind. When Raúl reached into a bag and pulled out rubbing alcohol, she bit back a moan.

It was going to hurt so good.

“Hey, don’t look. This is going to smart,” he warned her, worried. She shut her eyes, not to hide from the pain, but to hide from him.

She felt it splash on, felt the immediate burn as it cleaned and disinfected her wound. Sucking in air, she couldn’t hide her groan this time. It slipped out.

Maple was tugged into a warm embrace. “Shh,” his fingers tangled in her hair. “It’s okay, Belleza.” Her instinct was to push away; the embrace so forward, this level of closeness terrifying. She didn’t know what
Belleza
meant, but she was sure it wasn’t something a co-worker should be calling her. But she didn’t push away.

The stupid paintings and stupid sexy J.B., with his hooded stares and mismatched eyes, had awoken something in her. That something craved touch. It craved skin on skin, pleasure fused with pain, and even something as simple as being held after disinfecting her palm was enough to set her buzzing.

He took her acceptance as an invitation. His fingers caught under Maple’s chin, tipping it up. She gasped as soft lips pressed to hers.

It had been a long time since she’d been kissed, and the last time hadn’t been this
nice
.

Maple wasn’t sure if she liked it. Raúl slid his hand to her cheek, pressing his warm palm to it. His tongue gently swept her lip, tasting her. Maple let him, opening her mouth, sucking in his exhalation.