Saddle Up

Saddle Up by Victoria Vane





For Annette





Chapter 1


With speakers blasting Aerosmith’s “Back in the Saddle,” the buckskin-clad rider vaulted onto the horse’s back. Squeezing moccasin-covered heels into the animal’s flanks, he pierced the air with a war cry and entered the arena at a hand gallop, crouched low over the pinto stallion’s neck.

Bareback and bridle-less, he performed an intricate series of maneuvers—flying lead changes, spins, and piaffes—before circling one last time and sliding to a stop in the center of the arena. Leaping to the ground, he strode the length of white-rail fence separating him from his enraptured spectators, leather fringe softly slapping long, muscular legs as his horse trailed closely behind.

His black eyes were piercing, his cheekbones prominent, and his features, chiseled perfection. His physique was equally mouthwatering, honed of lean, hard muscle. “I’m not here to teach you how to train a horse,” he said, black eyes dancing over his captivated audience. “That’s not what this is about. I’m here to tell you how you can forge a lifelong partnership, a spiritual bond that is virtually unbreakable.” He paused, the connection with his spectators almost palpable.

“Just as in love,” he continued, “there are three possible kinds of relationships you can have with your equine partner. The first is much like a stale marriage. You barely tolerate one another. When you speak, he mostly ignores you. Like a passionless husband, this horse is completely indifferent to you.”

He glanced over his shoulder.

Cued to his movement, the horse turned his hindquarters and walked off.

The audience snickered.

“Unless, of course, he wants something from you.”

The horse came sauntering back to nudge his pocket, snatched a treat, and then promptly trotted away again with its head in the air.

“As you might guess, this one-way relationship can lead only to frustration and ultimate dissatisfaction.”

He paused again, this time for effect.

“The second kind of relationship is confrontational and combative. You fight all the time, exchange harsh words, maybe even blows. You use the crop, and he reciprocates with his teeth. You are almost fearful of him. When you ride, he bucks and rears, employing any tactic to get you off his back. You beg and plead, becoming euphoric with the least crumb of cooperation.”

He reached out tentatively toward the horse. It reared, baring its teeth, then kicked out and bolted across the arena.

“The third kind of relationship is what we all seek—the romance and passion. The magical relationship when your two souls become one. Like a good lover, he not only responds to your sounds, moods, and body cues, but even comes to anticipate your innermost thoughts and unspoken desires.”

He looked over his shoulder with a smile. The horse came trotting up, offering his muzzle with a soft nicker. The man once more scanned the spellbound faces and his mouth stretched into a slow, seductive smile. “Now I ask, which kind of relationship do you want?”

Miranda glanced up from the video monitor as her roommate, Lexi, passed by. “Whoa, Nelly!” she exclaimed with a double take. “Who. Is. That?”

Miranda paused the video. “That’s the guy I’m filming tomorrow. He calls himself Two Wolves. He’s supposed to be some sort of equine behaviorist.”

Leaning over Miranda’s shoulder for a better look, Lexi gave a low whistle. “Man, just look at that ass.”

Miranda rolled her eyes. “Don’t drool all over my keyboard, Lex.”

Lexi peered closer, clearly appreciating the glittering eyes, silky black hair, and delicious hard body. “Rawrrr.” Lexi gave a throaty growl. “I’d do him in a heartbeat.”

“By the look of it, so would half the women in his audience,” Miranda replied dryly, not about to admit she was just as enthralled. She’d never seen anyone quite like him. From the top of his head to the tips of his beaded moccasins, everything about the guy oozed raw sensuality. One thing for certain: He sure knew how to work a crowd. No wonder he’d caught Bibi’s eye.

Lexi popped the top of her Dr. Pepper. “Randa, honey,” she chided in her native West Texas drawl, “just because you aren’t gettin’ any doesn’t mean you have to begrudge the rest of the world.”

“My love life, or lack thereof, is none of your business, Lex.”

“Someone needs to make it their business, because you certainly aren’t doing anything about it.”

“I don’t have time—”

“No time?” Lexi snorted, nearly choking on her drink. “You have nothing but time. How many hours a week do you spend vegging in front of the tube, watching old movies?”

“It’s work!” Miranda protested. “How can I learn anything if I don’t study my craft?”

“All right, I’ll bite, but why not take one lousy night off just to play? Go out and mingle with the other half, spread some pheromones.”

“Like where?”

“I don’t know.” Lexi shrugged. “How about the beach?”

“Are you kidding?” Miranda snorted. “With this skin? I have to wear SPF 40 just to walk out to my car.”

“Then go clubbing with me.”