Stabled (The Stables Trilogy #1) Read online

  Her lungs ached, and she realized she was holding her breath. J.B. passed close behind her, close enough they should have touched but didn't. She shivered.

  Then he strode by, and she followed on his heels, trying not to think about how much she liked the way his shirt clung to his broad back and the subtle smell of his sweat and cologne.

  “Any other questions?” His eyes were already focused on the house, its lights standing out against the dark Texas dusk.

  She shuffled, unsure if she should ask. But if she didn’t, she’d never be sure in her position. “Why me? You’d barely spoken to me on the phone, and, well, I’d not been speakin’ well then.”

  “No, you hadn’t.” He thought about it a moment. “I reckon it’s because you sounded so nervous. You sounded like the kind of person I needed for the position.” There was no hint that he was joking.

  “Pardon?” Her insides were fluttering still.

  “Maple, what I need around here is obedience.” She shuddered, the word choice hitting too close to home. “I need someone who does what I say and can follow rules. On the phone, you sounded trainable. That bein’ said, stop sounding so damned unsure of yourself. People are like animals, you know. If you sound weak, they’ll pounce on you.” His warning was so on target she wanted to laugh.

  Weak. Trainable. She thought back to Tony, to how he’d trained her. His touch had been rough, but it had been effective. Her stomach tightened. The words he was saying should have insulted her, she supposed. Instead she was enticed, and she really, really couldn’t afford to be. She mumbled “okay,” unsatisfied with his answer and her response, but too afraid to push it further.

  Maple was running straight into danger instead of seeking shelter.

  As they locked up the stable and headed back, something caught her eye. Another stable. This was further in the distance, a small hike from where they were. It was little, but looked nicer. Newer.

  "Do you have more horses?" She asked, trying to keep up with J.B.'s long strides.

  "No. Five's more than enough for me and the boys. We really only use three; Red, Justice, and Mesa. Bonnie's too old to ride, and Bane's a menace."

  "Well, what about the other stable? Should I clean it tomorrow? Does it have tools? Does--"

  "That stable is shut tight." He paused, stopping hard enough she needed to backtrack a step. It was twilight, the stars were coming out. The sky was big, painted in dusky purple. "It's off limits. You aren't to go in there. Ever." Feeling his point was made, he took off again.

  Maple's head swam as she scurried behind. She'd had a few questions before, but now she had more than she could count. Off limits? Shut tight? Why have a fancy new stable if you weren't going to use it? What was he keeping in there?

  Damn it, she thought. This was just like when her mom put wrapped presents out four weeks before Christmas. When those presents were put out early, it was painful for Maple. The urge to peek became her only thought, and unavoidable impulse. Curious to the point of madness.

  She'd just landed the perfect job. No one knew her out here. It was isolated, just his house, the stable, and wide, open space. Those beautiful horses that wouldn’t have questions for her, or expectations she couldn’t meet. She couldn’t let the mystery stable get in her head. She couldn’t fantasize about her grim, mysterious boss. She couldn’t, wouldn’t, screw this up.

  So why did he have to go and place a large, wrapped present in front of her and say "don't look?"

  “This is your room. Bathroom’s just through there--” he pointed to a small door to her left, “and the kitchen is left, at the end of this hall. I imagine you’ll hear the boys if you’re worried about getting lost. Feel free to look around the house; if a door’s open, you’re welcome to look. If it’s closed, it’s closed for a reason.”

  Like the stable. J.B. left her without saying goodbye.

  Her mind blanked as he walked away. Her body hadn’t reacted so acutely to any man. Ever. Oh, it reacted like this to her ex, Tony. But it had taken a year of him training her to make her wet and wanton at just a command. When she was with J.B., though…

  All it took was a look. Or the breeze catching his scent. When their bodies got close. Things that meant nothing to him, probably. Things that normal people wouldn’t notice. But Maple noticed them all, and her panties were soaking, her nipples hard and begging for attention. Shamed, she went into her new room, needing to escape the day and the dredged up feelings.

  Her room was small, but nicer than she’d dared to hope. The comforter was plush and white, as were the sheets and pillows. The walls were painted a muted grey. In a corner was a small table and a blue velvet wingback chair. Against one wall was her wardrobe, with a place to hang up top and drawers beneath.

  Above her bed was a massive painting of a horse, much like Bane. Pitch black and majestic, the horse’s face appeared to leap from a shadowy stall. Despite the amateur slabs of paint, it was beautiful and creepy. Peering close, Maple didn’t recognize the artist’s signature.

  Maple found her bags had already been placed at the foot of the bed. She went and peeked into the bathroom. It had a shower, small and tiled, but with one of the larger, fancy shower heads. Sink, mirror, and a mosaic on the floor. It looked Spanish, with blues that matched the chair in her room. When she squatted, Maple saw that each tile was hand painted.

  Whoever decorated for J.B. liked small, luxurious touches. The things in this room were worth more than everything she owned put together.

  In her bag were her toiletries, which she grabbed and took to the shower. Maple hadn’t worked that hard in a while and her muscles were singing with ache as she stepped under the hot spray.

  The soothing lavender scent of her soap, the hot water, and the quiet should have helped her unwind. Instead, in the silence, she could feel her brain kicking back into gear. It filtered through each look J.B. had given her that day. She replayed every gruff phrase until her mind had memorized the slow, gravel drawl of J.B. His smell. The way his muscles moved as he worked.

  The way he commanded her, without even trying.

  This is my punishment, she thought. This is what I get for trying to hide. She’d tried to leave home because farming hadn’t fit. She couldn’t see herself married and cooking and working the farm. She couldn’t see a white wedding dress or an antique bed with two dips and two feet of distance between them.

  She’d wanted city lights and books and foods and cultures. Maple had wanted men. This was one of the reasons she’d left. Silt Springs had three hundred and eighty nine residents. Her high school class had been composed of twenty people, twelve of whom had been girls. If she wanted prospects, it meant leaving home. If she wanted to avoid the Bible-thumping farmers, she needed to leave West Texas.

  So she’d gone to Louisiana, to Tulane. She’d found the lights, the food, the books, the cultures. She’d found men. Or, more fair to say, men had found her. One man in particular showed her exactly why rural girls didn’t belong with big city men. Tony.

  With his Adonis body and golden hair, he’d been the prettiest boy she’d ever seen. Too bad his outside was the only attractive part about him. She didn’t realize that until he’d snared her. Tony taught her to come hard, fast, and easy. His “sweet little country slut.” But he’d also tortured the pleasure out of her, the memories of which still made her tingle.

  Like that one time he’d choked her while he fucked her, his fingers squeezing until blood vessels popped in her eyes, her scream locked in her lungs by his fingers--

  Stop. Grabbing the knob, Maple switched the water to cold, as far as it would go. Ice peppered her skin in tiny rivulets, chilling her shut eyelids and hurting her bared teeth. Stop thinking about it. You learned your lesson. Move on.

  Maple ignored the needy ache between her legs.

  After everything, after he left her and she’d left Tulane, he still had a grip on her. He’d stoked the black flames in her, and given a choice between a marriage like her folks or
someone like Tony, she’d pick the latter. Sometimes being consumed by fire was better than a lifetime of ashes.

  She shut the water off and grabbed a towel. It was fluffy and warm; she realized it was sitting on a heated bar. This seemed so ridiculous to her that Maple burst out laughing, able to step out of the shower and away from her toxic thoughts.

  Just be glad for the job.

  Fact was, she was lucky. Maple knew that, somewhere, though her conflicted feelings sometimes blurred that awareness. It was luck that Tony had cast her aside and luck that she’d made it to her parents unscathed. It was luck that no one came looking for her after she left Tulane, especially since she’d just drove home with no warning. Now she was here. She had a job-- a good job. It fit her better than she could hope.

  She’d have to pour over some youtube channels later and make sure she remembered everything to care for the horses. But when she’d been in the stable, it had felt natural. She just knew what the horses needed. It felt good to be there.

  Maybe this was a place she could let go a bit. Try and be normal again.

  Dressing quickly, she threw her hair in a ponytail and went to grab dinner. She was eager to meet the other ranch workers and, if she was honest, eager to see J.B again.

  But Maple wasn’t being honest with herself. No, she was pushing all of that deep down.

  J.B. had been right-- she heard the kitchen area long before she saw it. When she did round a corner, the sight that greeted her stopped her mid-step.

  It was like a restaurant kitchen. Steel appliances, dark stone counters, crisp white cabinets. Everything was clean, and it was huge. Behind an eight burner gas range was a pretty girl, maybe a little older than Maple, with long, dark hair and eyes and beautiful, brown skin. She was busily alternating between stirring a few pots, chopping onions and herbs, and laughing whenever one of the men made a joke.

  The men-- there were three of them-- were sitting at a long, rough cut table. Well, it was one of those tables meant to look rough, but it had the stain and sheen of a designer table. Maple sighed. She didn’t think she’d ever get used to the luxury of J.B.’s home. It felt as if he was trying to appear modest, with the ranch style and simple layout and designs. But everything had that extra touch of elegance that made her feel as if she were in a museum.

  She hadn’t felt comfortable in her parents’ home, but she was a fish out of water here.

  “New girl!” One of the men stood. No, on closer inspection, he seemed like he might be her age, maybe younger. He was taller than her, but not by much. Clear, mocha skin and a shaggy mane of black hair. His eyes were so dark they were almost black.

  They were inquisitive and intense and Maple blushed and had to work not to stare at her feet.

  “Um… hi?”

  “Come in!” He loped over to her with a friendly, awkward gait, and draped an arm over her shoulder. “New blood! Sit down. I’ll grab you some food. Tell us every single thing there is to know about you.”

  Flustered, she found herself thrown onto a bench, the other two men looking at her and trying to hide their chuckles. “There isn’t much to say--”

  In a heartbeat, a plate appeared before her. Rice, beans, shredded beef. It should have been simple food. It was anything but. The rice was fragrant with lime and bursts of cilantro, still steaming. Black beans in a sauce that had hints of cumin and fresh oregano. Spooned on top was fresh pico de gallo, with tiny winks of jalapeño.

  She speared some of the shredded beef and tasted it. And promptly died from pleasure. It was so tender it fell apart and melted like butter in her mouth. It was a fattier piece of meat and, despite being from a cheaper cut, still tasted better than the steaks she’d had. “Oh God,” she sighed, rolling the spicy-sweet meat on her tongue. “This is incredible.”

  “Mariela makes the best barbacoa around. It helps that J.B. lets us have one of his cows every quarter.”

  “What breed?”

  “American Wagyu.”

  Ah. She understood, and couldn’t believe the level of generosity J.B. had with his staff. American Wagyu steers had to be registered in the U.S. Known for intense marbling, the beef fetched high prices at market. “He lets you have a steer?”

  “Mmhmm! I’m Raúl. What’s your name?”

  Raúl was sitting close to her. Far closer than a new acquaintance should. He leaned in, elbow on the table near her, fingers resting just to the side of her plate. The intimacy of him made her pulse quicken. She’d jumped right into her relationship with Tony. That meant she was limited in her flirting experience.

  His closeness, the cheeky smile he kept flashing her, was nice. It also made her uncomfortably nervous. Flirting seemed like one of those innocent behaviors normal people did. Maple didn’t know if she could be normal again.

  Only that morning she’d been drinking coffee in her mother’s kitchen. Now she was feeling desperately overwhelmed. The situation was too easy. This was something that happened to nice girls. Nice girls got jobs at ranches. Nice girls had bosses who trusted and cute, genuine coworkers. It was hard to accept this might be it for her. But if she was going to make it work, she’d have to start here, with an introduction.

  “Maple. I’m Maple Parsons.”

  His nose scrunched. “Maple? That’s a weird name.”

  “So’s Raúl. You sound like a movie villain.”

  He laughed. “Or just Hispanic. Because, you know.” His hands waved up and down his body as if to say look at me. Duh, she knew. “Besides, I think it is more a lover’s name than a villain’s.” The boy had the audacity to wink at her.

  Unsure of how to respond to a wink, she turned to the other men. “And you?”

  “Tim, Miss.” One said. He was older. More of what she’d expected on the ranch. His face was wrinkled and weathered, looking like leather. Gaunt, with high cheekbones that were covered in salted stubble. “This here’s Jones.”

  Jones could have been Tim’s brother, but Maple had used up the last of her ability to be social. She knew she should ask more questions. Instead, her anxiety was winning the war. Despite having just showered, she was sweating again. Her mind was starting to speed up, her thoughts buzzing.

  Do they like me? What do I say? Will I be able to remember their names? Can I go to my room now? Would that be considered rude?

  Raúl didn’t give her a chance to consider retreat. “So, Maple, how do you like the job?”

  “I haven’t really done it yet. I just interviewed today. Sort of.”

  “Yeah, J.B. moves kind of quick,” Raúl nodded in sympathy. “He either likes you or he doesn’t.”

  There was a flutter at that. He likes me? But she shook it off with another big bite of beans and rice, hoping this was just first-day, new-girl crushing. Besides, J.B. had told her why she was hired: weak and trainable. Those weren’t exactly traits worth bragging over and they hardly were something anyone would find attractive. “I guess I passed, then.”

  “You’re so pretty, I don’t know how you couldn’t have!”

  Tim and Jones coughed, and Raúl blushed a little. It was reassuring that others found his bold nature forthcoming too. Her skin itched a little at his compliment, his closeness. Maple needed distance, her anxious thoughts becoming insects under her skin.

  “It’s been a long day,” she said as she stood. “It was nice to meet y’all, but I’m going to turn in.” Tim and Jones nodded. Raúl looked crestfallen. Maple couldn’t stand to disappoint people, even if she wasn’t sure she liked them, so she offered him a small smile. “See you tomorrow? I think you’re showing me how to muck Bane’s stable.”

  At this, Raúl flashed her his full set of teeth, grinning so hard it was comical. “Sure! We can talk then. You can tell me about yourself, okay?”

  She ran out, muttering something non-committally, needing escape before the day crashed into her.

  Chapter Four

  “Did you get the job?”

  “Yeah, Mom, I got it.”

  The
relief her mother felt managed to travel silently through the phone. Maple rolled her eyes.

  “You’re unpacked, then?”

  “Yeah, Mom.”

  A pause. “Okay, Honey. Is there anything you need?”

  This was the part that always needled Maple. When she’d left for college she’d had almost this exact same stilted conversation. Her parents weren’t talkers. Never had been. They’d been even less affectionate. Affection came in the form of an extra biscuit on a plate if she’d done a hard day’s work, or a Bible and a necklace tucked into luggage to wish her good luck.

  Most of the time Maple was okay with that. Most of the time it was enough. Because if your parents don’t talk, then they don’t ask too many questions, either. But the day had just been so damned strange. Picked up by a driver? She’d never been in a car that nice before. Hired with so little interview? Did that even happen in real life?