Backlash Tender Trap Aftermath - Lisa Jackson Page 0,41
wouldn’t be so sure of that!”
“You’re just mad because he”—Denver cocked his head toward Frenzy, who was standing in a corner of the paddock, the lead rope dangling from his bridle—“got the better of you.”
“This time.” She winced and rubbed her shoulder.
“Are you all right?” Denver walked quickly through the gate and touched her upper arm.
She flinched, gritting her teeth.
“Maybe I should look at that.”
His touch was already playing havoc with her mind. “I’m fine,” Tessa said, shifting away. “The only thing that’s bruised is my pride.”
“He didn’t look so tough to me.” Denver surveyed the feisty colt.
“No?” she said. “You think you could do better?”
Denver rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Probably.”
“Good. Have at it.”
Denver’s gaze returned to hers and his eyes had darkened. “Okay. But maybe we should make this more interesting,” he drawled suggestively.
“It’ll be plenty interesting. I guarantee it.” She climbed onto the top rail of the fence for a better view.
“I was thinking in terms of a small wager—”
“I don’t gamble.”
One corner of Denver’s mouth lifted provocatively. “Sure you do, Tess. Unless you’ve changed.”
Her throat constricted for a second, and she looked away. “What’s the bet?” she asked, hating the breathless tone to her voice.
“Simple. If I get him to accept the saddle and walk calmly, I win.”
“And what’s at stake?”
“Name it.” His eyes glinted magnetic blue.
Tessa had trouble finding her voice. The heat in Denver’s gaze was equal to that of the late-afternoon sun still warming the valley floor. “Okay,” she finally said. “If you can get him to take the saddle and walk docilely around the ring, you win. But if he won’t take the saddle, you lose.”
“And my punishment?” he asked, squinting up at her, his sensuous mouth curving suggestively.
Tessa could barely breathe. “If you lose, I—I’ll expect you to work on the ranch the next week—shoulder to shoulder with the hands.”
“And if I win,” Denver said slowly, touching the side of her jaw with his finger, letting his hand slide slowly along it, “I’ll expect you to spend a weekend with me in California!”
“That’s impossible,” she said quickly. The thought of spending a weekend completely alone with him caused her heart to hammer. “I—I can’t be gone that long and—”
“And you’re afraid of what you’ll find out about me and maybe yourself,” he suggested, leaning lazily over the top rail of the fence, his elbow nearly touching her thigh.
“That’s not it! I have work here! Who’ll run the ranch if I leave?”
His face turned hard. “Your father,” he bit out. “After all, Curtis is the ranch foreman. That’s what I pay him for.”
“Dad can’t do it alone.”
“He’ll have Mitch and Len and the rest of the hands.”
“If you win.”
“Oh, I’ll win all right.” A slow smile spread over his face, and with the grace of an athlete, he strode across the paddock and started talking softly to the horse.
Tessa bit her lip and crossed her fingers. She couldn’t lose—not after she’d promised to go with him to L.A. Come on, Frenzy, she silently pleaded, don’t let me down. Show him who’s boss!
As if he’d heard her, Frenzy reared and shrieked. Head high, nostrils flared, he galloped past Denver at breakneck speed. The ground shook.
Tessa wanted to whoop, but Denver, his eyes steady on the colt, kept after him, talking low, moving slowly. The lathered roan pawed the ground nervously and sprinted past Denver in the opposite direction.
“That’s it—” Tessa said.
“Not yet.” With the patience of a lion stalking prey, Denver kept walking, gradually making his way until he reached the dangling lead rope and slowly picked it up. Then, each move deliberate, he wrapped the leather around his hands, approached the horse and placed a calming hand on Frenzy’s quivering coat.
To Tessa’s mortification, he managed to lead the yearling to the fence where a blanket was folded over the top rail. Denver placed the blanket on Frenzy’s quivering, lathered hide.
The colt shied. He minced away from Denver, but Denver persisted and finally placed the saddle gently on Frenzy’s strong back. He tightened the cinch. The yearling, squealing, took off like a rocket!
Denver braced himself. The lead rope stretched tight, yanking hard on Denver’s arms. “Damn you,” Denver muttered as the colt dragged him forward a few feet.
Tessa grinned.
But Denver dug his heels into the ground. His shoulders flexed and strained. Frenzy bucked and reared, his hooves slashing as he tried to shake the horrid leather beast from his back, but he couldn’t rip the strap from Denver’s hands.