The Maverick's Thanksgiving Baby. Brenda HarlenЧитать онлайн книгу.
had the softest, kindest eyes.
“I spent most of the week with her. I brushed her and fed her and led her around her paddock. At the end of the week, I still hadn’t been on the back of a horse, but I’d fallen in love with Dolly. For the next six months, I went back to Northbrook once a week just to visit her.”
He didn’t need to ask what had happened after six months. Considering that the pony had been old and lame, he was certain he knew. Instead he said, “Did you ever get over your fear of horses?”
“I haven’t been around them much since that summer.”
He pushed away from the table. “Get your coat and boots on.”
“What? Why?”
“I want to introduce you to someone.”
She shook her head. “I got over my childhood fascination with horses—I’m good now.”
“Not if you’re still afraid,” he told her.
“I wouldn’t say afraid,” she denied. “More...cautious.”
He took her coat from the hook, brought it over to her.
“I need to clean up the kitchen.”
“The dishes will wait.”
“Has anyone ever told you that you’re pushy?”
He took her hand and guided it into the sleeve of her coat. “Not pushy—persuasive.”
“I’m not feeling persuaded,” she told him, but she put her other arm in her other sleeve. “My boots are still, um, upstairs.”
In his bedroom, where he’d taken them off her along with the rest of her clothing before he’d made love with her.
“I’ll get them,” he said.
When he came back down, she had her coat zipped up to her chin, a hat on her head and a scarf wrapped around her throat.
He held back a smile as he knelt at her feet and helped her on with the boots. To someone who had lived her whole life in Southern California, Montana in November—even the first of November—was undoubtedly cold, but he knew it would be a lot colder in December, January and February.
He hoped she would be there to experience it.
* * *
Maggie could tell that Jesse was amused by her efforts to bundle up against the climate. As she carefully tucked her hands into woolen mittens, he stuffed his feet into his boots and tugged on a jacket, not even bothering to button it.
She stepped outside and gasped as the cold slapped her in the face and stole the breath from her lungs.
“It was seventy-two degrees when I left Los Angeles,” she told him.
He slid an arm across her shoulders, holding her close to share body heat—of which he seemed to have an abundance. “The weather takes some getting used to for a lot of people.”
She couldn’t imagine ever getting used to the cold—or wanting to. Thankfully, the barn was only a short distance from his house, and she was grateful to duck into its warm shelter.
The facility was brightly lit and immaculate. The alleyway was interlocking brick and the wooden walls fairly gleamed. Jesse pulled the door closed and stood beside her, giving her a minute.
“Are you okay?” he asked gently.
She nodded, because she wanted it to be true, but she wasn’t entirely certain. She’d heard that the olfactory sense was one of the strongest for evoking memories, but she’d never experienced it herself until she stepped inside the barn and breathed in the scent of hay and horses. Suddenly her brain was flooded with memories of that long-ago summer camp, and with the memories came apprehension and anxiety.
“Just breathe,” he said.
It was only then that she realized she’d been holding her breath. She let it out now, and drew fresh air into her lungs. But that fresh air carried the same scent, and made her heart pound hard and fast inside her chest. “I feel stupid.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m scared,” she admitted.
“I won’t let anything bad happen to you,” he promised.
“It’s late,” she said. “I should get back before Lissa starts worrying.”
He took her hands, holding her in place. “Do you trust me?”
She nodded without hesitation.
“So let’s just stand right here for a minute until you relax.”
“I’m not going to relax in here.”
“You just need to focus on something other than the horses,” he said.
And then, before she could assure him there was absolutely nothing that would take her focus off the enormous beasts behind the flimsy wooden doors, his lips were on hers. And within half a second, her mind went completely, blissfully blank.
He released the hands he’d been holding to wrap his arms around her, pulling her closer. Then his hands slid up her back, and even through the thick layers of clothing, she could feel the warmth of his touch. Or maybe the heat was all in her veins, stoked by his caress. His tongue traced the curve of her bottom lip, teasing, coaxing. Her mouth parted on a sigh, not just allowing him to deepen the kiss, but demanding it, as her tongue danced in a slow and seductive rhythm with his.
Her blood was pumping and her head was spinning as she gave herself over to the pleasure of his kiss. She could still smell hay and horses, but mixed in with those scents was the essence of Jesse. His heat, his strength, his heart.
He eased his mouth from hers, but continued to hold her close as they each took a moment to catch their breath.
“What are you thinking about now?” he asked.
“That I won’t ever be able to walk into a barn without thinking about you and remembering this moment.”
He smiled. “Good.”
“My heart’s still racing.”
“But not because you’re afraid,” he guessed.
“No.” She blew out a breath and tipped back her head to meet his gaze. “Is that your usual method for helping people overcome their apprehensions?”
“It’s not one I’ve ever used before,” he told her.
Her brows lifted. “So I was a guinea pig?”
“No, you’re the woman who makes me forget all thought and reason.”
The words, and the sincerity in his tone, mollified her.
“But I haven’t forgotten why we came out here,” he said, looping his arm around her waist and gently guiding her along the alleyway.
They’d moved only about six feet when a huge head appeared over the top of the door of the closest stall. She let out a squeak and immediately jumped back.
Jesse’s arms came around her, holding her steady. He didn’t force her to move any closer, but he didn’t let her back any farther away, either.
“This is Honey,” he told her. “And she is as sweet as her name.”
“She’s...beautiful,” Maggie realized. The animal had a sleek chestnut coat that gleamed in the light, a white blaze, glossy mane and tail and eyes the color of melted chocolate. “And...big.”
The horse tossed her head, almost as if she was nodding, and Maggie couldn’t help but smile.
Jesse chuckled softly, and she felt the warmth of his breath on the back of her neck.
“Do you see how her ears are turned forward?”
She