To Trust A Cowboy (Hunks and Horses Book 4) Read online

"Are you kiddin'? I'm thrilled for you," he declared, but a moment later a heavy frown crossed her face. "Natalie? What's wrong?"

  "I feel kinda dizzy."

  "You wanna get off?"

  "We're almost there."

  Reaching the barn, while Natalie asked Misty to stop, Dylan walked into the tack room and placed the prizes on top of her trunk, but when he returned she was still outside on her mare.

  "Do you need me to hold her?" he asked, moving quickly to her side.

  "No, it's not that. My head is spinning like I've had too much to drink, and my back hurts. Dylan, I don't think I can get off."

  "How can I help?"

  "I'm not sure."

  "I'll stand right here," he said calmly. "You slide off slowly, and if there's a problem I'll catch you."

  "Okay. I feel so strange."

  Her voice sounded shaky, and as she dropped her foot from the stirrup and swung her leg around, he raised his ams, clutched her waist, holding her steady as he lowered her to the ground.

  "There you go," he said softly. "You doin' okay?"

  "I guess," she murmured, turning around to face him.

  His hands lingered on her body.

  Their eyes touched.

  "How's your back?"

  "Hurts."

  "Is there anything I can do?"

  She paused.

  "Go ahead, ask."

  "Please will you hold me?"

  Her whispered request sent a tingle through his body, and as he gently removed her hat, she sank against his chest. Wrapping her up, he closed his eyes and inhaled the subtle strawberry fragrance of her hair.

  "Thank you," she murmured, slowly pulling back. "I needed that."

  "Natalie, you don't look so good," he said softly. "Go in and sit down. I'll take care of Misty."

  "You don't mind?"

  "Hell no, I don't mind."

  "I owe you so much."

  "You don't owe me anything, but you can thank Misty for not wanderin' off just then."

  His comment brought a smile to her lips, and as he slipped the reins over Misty's head and led her forward, Natalie walked beside him and settled on a bale of hay. Dylan quickly removed Misty's saddle, gave her a quick wipe down, then led her into her stall. The door to the corral was open, and immediately walking outside she dropped down and rolled in the dirt.

  "Hey, Natalie, I'm sorry but your mare is filthy," he declared as Misty jumped up and shook herself. "She'll need a shower. Natalie?"

  Receiving no reply Dylan left the mare and glanced into the barn aisle. Natalie was gone, and darting his eyes to the cross ties he noticed Carly's saddle was too.

  "You shouldn't have picked that up," he muttered to himself as he headed into the tack room, but as he entered his heart stopped. In a heap on the floor, Natalie appeared limp and lifeless, the saddle lying a few feet away.

  "Hey, wake up, hon," he said urgently, kneeling beside her and taking her hand. "Natalie?"

  Not getting a response he grabbed his phone and texted Jim Green.

  Natalie passed out in the tack room barn D. Get the ambulance here.

  Will do. On my way.

  Sitting next to her, Dylan brought her into his arms and gently wiped the hair from her face.

  "Damn, you're pale. Wake up, Natalie. Open your eyes."

  Helpless and deeply worried, he prayed for the ambulance to hurry, but it was Jim who arrived first.

  "Dylan, what happened. Did she take another fall?"

  "I have no idea," Dylan replied. "She said she felt dizzy so I told her to sit down while I put her horse away. I guess she tried to bring the saddle in and collapsed."

  "The ambulance will be here shortly," Jim said, lifting the saddle and placing it on a rack. "I'll bet she hasn't eaten. Sometimes these girls run on nothing but adrenalin and end up passing out."

  "Really?"

  "This isn't the first time I've had a competitor faint on me. That must be the ambulance," he added, hearing a vehicle stop outside the barn. "I'll fetch them."

  "Is that what you did, Natalie?" Dylan murmured, staring down at her. "Did you skip lunch' 'cos you were so worked up?"

  "Again?" one of the medics declared as he marched in and spied Natalie. "What's going on?"

  "I think she fainted," Dylan replied, "but I'm worried. She won't wake up."

  The man checked her pulse, lifted her eyelids, then reaching into his bag and retrieving a tiny paper tube, he snapped it open under her nose. Her face crinkled, and opening her eyes she stared up at Dylan.

  "What happened?"

  "You tell me," Dylan said, helping her to sit up. "I found you on the floor."

  "I brought the saddle in, then I felt sick to my stomach and saw spots. That's all I remember."

  "When was the last time you had something to eat?" the medic asked, pulling a blood pressure monitor from his bag and wrapping the band around her arm.

  "Uh, let me think. Half a muffin this morning."

  "What time was that?"

  "Around six-thirty."

  "That's it?"

  "I've been really busy and I'm too nervous to eat before I show."

  "Do you normally have low blood pressure?" he asked, watching the dial on his monitor as he released the air from the tube.

  "It runs in the family."

  "You're drained. You need food and rest," he announced, removing the band. "You might want to pick up some vitamins while you're at it."

  "I'll take care of her," Dylan said firmly. "I'll make sure she gets something to eat right away."

  "You should at least carry snack bars with you," the medic continued. "Your body can't run without fuel. Is anything else bothering you? Any chest pains?"

  "No, no, I'm fine."

  "If you have any more problems go to the emergency room and get a thorough check up."

  "Okay. Thanks."

  "No offense, but I hope we won't be seeing you again."

  "Thanks, fellas," Jim said. "Appreciate you getting here so quickly."

  "That's what we do."

  "I came in the golf cart," Jim said as the medics left. "I'll run you guys over to the food court."

  "I need my bag," Natalie murmured. "It's in my trunk."

  "I'll get it," Dylan offered, stepping across to her tack trunk. Picking up her prizes, he placed them inside and pulled out her purse. "Here you go."

  "Great. Sorry. I didn't mean to cause all this trouble."

  "You don't need to apologize," Jim said, "but you have to eat, especially when you're under stress. I'm surprised you were able to ride so well."

  "That performance was all Misty. She was a dream. I felt like a passenger."

  "Less can be more with horses," Dylan declared as they walked slowly from the tack room. "Most know their job and humans just get in their way."

  "You sound like Carly."

  "I'll take that as a compliment."

  Settling into the golf cart, Jim drove across the grounds to the main building and dropped them off.

  "You take care, Natalie."

  "I will. Thanks, Jim."

  Moving into the food hall, Dylan walked her through to the dining room that offered table service. Settling in and picking up the menus, it was only a moment before a waitress arrived.

  "What can I get you?"

  "I'd like a cheeseburger and fries, hold the onion," Dylan said, "and coffee."

  "Do you have spaghetti and meatballs?" Natalie asked. "Real meatballs, not those frozen crappy things?"

  "We do. Our cook makes them himself."

  "Terrific. I'll have that, and coffee."

  "May as well bring a thermos," Dylan said.

  "Coming right up."

  "Spaghetti, carbs. Meat, protein." Dylan remarked. "Good choice."

  "That's what I have if I'm tired or I've had a long day."

  "Have you fainted like that before?"

  "Not often, but it has happened. When I get stressed or I'm crazy busy I forget to eat."

  "Sounds
like a habit you need to break."

  "Probably."

  "Looks like I'm finally having that cup of coffee with you," he said with a grin. "It's only taken me a year."

  Before Natalie could respond the waitress arrived with the carafe, two mugs, and a basket of rolls. Natalie grabbed one, slathered it with butter, and gobbled it down as Dylan filled their cups.

  "I never know I'm hungry until I put something in my mouth," she said, washing it down with her coffee. "That was so good."

  "I'm sure."

  "Dylan, besides the obvious, is there something wrong?"

  "Nothin' that can't wait."

  "I think I know what's on your mind. You're wondering why I've always turned you down."

  "Can't say it hasn't bothered me."

  "This is hard," she said with a sigh, then dropped her eyes as she sipped her coffee.

  "We don't have to talk about it right this minute."

  "I want to. You've been so kind, and I owe you an explanation."

  "You don't owe me anything."

  "Yeah, I do, it's just…Dylan, I'm not normal, and whenever I meet someone I cringe when I think about having to deal with my, uh, issue. This year has been so crazy I just couldn't face going through the drama. It's too painful, but here I am, and I'll have to go through it again."

  "Not normal, how? Drama? You'll have to go through what again? Natalie, will you please tell me what you're talkin' about?"

  "Just what I said. I'm not normal."

  "Not normal how?"

  "God, I hate this," she muttered, staring into her mug. "If I tell you, you'll judge me, and I can't stand the look I know I'll see in your eyes."

  "I'm not a particularly judgmental person, and aren't you judgin' me right now? You're assumin' I'm like every other guy who's reacted badly to whatever it is."

  "I guess I am."

  "Trust me, I'm not like most guys, and I've got my own crazy-ass shit. I'm worried you'll be the one doin' the walkin' away when you learn about me."

  "I bet your stuff isn't as bad as mine, and why do I always have to be the one who speaks up first?"

  "Natalie, that's an excellent question. How about we write it down on napkins and swap."

  "Uh, okay."

  "Have you got a pen?"

  "Sure," she replied, reaching into her bag. "I'll write mine real quick."

  He grinned as he watched, confident she was about to be pleasantly surprised.

  "Here, your turn."

  "Thanks." Taking the pen, he wrote, Kinky is my middle name. "Ready to swap?"

  "No! But here goes nothing."

  Sliding the folded napkins across the table, Dylan opened his, then nodded his head as he read her confession.

  I love to be dominated.

  "Really?" she suddenly exclaimed, staring across at him with wide eyes.

  "When I threatened to spank you, I meant it," he replied, lowering his voice and leaning across the table, "and darlin', you and I are cut from the same cloth. I'll be happy to tie—"

  "Stop. Please don't say anything else."

  "Huh?"

  "The waitress! She's ten feet behind you and closing."

  "Damn. There's timin', then there's timin'."

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Their meals in front of them and the waitress out of earshot, Dylan couldn't suppress his smile as he stared at Natalie's bright red face.

  "Dylan," she began, her voice a whisper, "I can't believe it. What I wrote, I, uh, I'm kinky too, that's what I meant."

  "Yeah, I know," he said with a wry grin, "and it wasn't a surprise."

  "Are you serious? What gave me away?"

  "When I threatened to put you over my knee I caught a look in your eye—and there it is again."

  "What look?"

  "Excited embarrassment," he replied with a chuckle, "and I remember a while back thinkin' you might be inclined my way, but that was more instinct than anything else."

  As her heart raced and her stomach flipped, the glint in his eye told her the ruggedly handsome cowboy whose kiss had sent sparks through her body, the guy she'd been rejecting for twelve whole months, was the man she'd been aching for. She wanted to kick herself.

  "Is that why you've turned me down," he continued, "because you were afraid of what I'd think?"

  "Partly. I avoid going out because I know I'll reach that inevitable, awkward moment when I have to try to explain what makes me tick. I've been through one too many excruciating moments."

  "Yeah, I get that, but were you intendin' to stay a hermit forever."

  "If I was, I'm not anymore," she quipped, shooting him a sassy look, "but to be completely honest," she continued, her expression turning solemn, "my life isn't normal either, though now I've won the championship things will change, but can I tell you about that later?"

  "Sure. You need to eat."

  "You can say that again."

  Devouring a meatball, she recalled the moment he'd threatened to spank her. The aching need she'd suppressed had sparked to life, but she'd believed his comment to be meaningless. She'd lived through too many disappointing, humiliating scenes to take him seriously. Even the men she'd dated who appeared to be the take-charge type had turned out to be domineering, not dominant.

  The waitress returned with a bowl of parmesan cheese, and as Natalie laid down her fork to sprinkle it liberally across the rich tomato sauce, a wave of fatigue suddenly swept through her. As much as she wanted to go back to her hotel for hot soak and a nap, she needed to fill Misty's hay net and make sure her belongings were locked safely in her tack trunk.

  And there was Doug.

  He'd be calling.

  She dreaded having to deal with him.

  "Hey, why the frown?" Dylan asked, immediately noticing the change in her expression. "You okay?"

  "Yeah, fine, just tired."

  "So, Natalie, here's the thing," he said, laying his cheeseburger on his plate. "I know you're not a hundred-percent, but there's something else goin' on. If you wanna tell me to mind my own business, no problem, but lyin', that's a spankable offense."

  Her eyes flew across the table.

  His comment had sent her butterflies into a wild dance.

  "Sorry. I'm not used to sharing things."

  "In case you hadn't noticed, I care about you. Whatever caused that frown, you can tell me. I wanna be here for you, and I'm not just sayin' that. I mean it."

  "I know you do. I was thinking about Doug Baldwin."

  "What about him?"

  "He'll be calling about dinner tonight and I don't want to see him. I told him I had plans and he said, you can change those plans of yours."

  "Whatta jerk."

  "Yeah, he's like that. Arrogant."

  "Does he know where you're stayin'?"

  "No. I said with friends."

  "That's good. You don't have to worry about him showin' up uninvited, and you do have plans. A hot bath and an early night."

  "Heaven," she murmured, "but I don't want to offend him. I don't want to accept his offer, but I don't want to burn the bridge either."

  "Let me ask you something. If you pushed the envelope and met him for dinner, how do you think you'd feel?"

  "Bored, annoyed, exhausted, wishing I was anywhere but there."

  "Even jerks can sense things. I doubt you'll be helpin' your cause if you go. Call him and tell him the truth. You're exhausted, you were bucked off and you're not feelin' good."

  "Thank you! That's exactly what I'm going to do. I'm an idiot. How could I have even thought about going out tonight?"

  "You just needed some support," Dylan said softly. "Finish your spaghetti."

  "Yes, Sir," she retorted.

  "Good answer. I'm glad we understand each other."

  They finished their meal in comfortable silence, but with the promise of what the future might hold, the sparks between them were impossible to ignore.

  "That was delicious," she said gratefully as she took her last bite, "and the compan
y made it taste even better."

  "Are you flirtin' with me, missy?"

  "Aren't you a clever cowboy?"

  "Too bad you have a date with a hot bath, though I'd be happy to wash your back."

  "I might take you up on that one of these days."

  "You'd better."

  "Or?"

  "Don't invite me next time you take a bath and find out."

  Natalie's heart sang, and as he reached across the table and took her hand, she let out a happy sigh.

  "Do you have any idea how long I've wanted to hold your hand?" he murmured, giving it a gentle squeeze.

  "About a year?"

  "Hah. Do you want anything else? I saw apple pie on the menu."

  "Thanks, but I'm stuffed, though I do want to call Doug. It will be easier sitting here with you."

  "You know what," he said thoughtfully, "we might be able fill two needs with one deed."

  "What a great saying. Where did you hear that?"

  "Don't remember. I think I read it somewhere."

  "I love it. What are you thinking?"

  "I should be the one to call him."

  "You? Why? What would you say?"

  "I'm your boyfriend and you can't make it because you're not feelin' good, but Natalie, don't get me wrong. I'm not assumin' that I am your boyfriend," he added quickly.

  "Dylan, you're holding my hand."

  "Does that put me in boyfriend status?"

  "Along with everything else that happened today, and the exchange of our paper napkins, I think maybe it does—if you want it to."

  "Damn straight!"

  "Good grief," she said, shaking her head. "This has to be the strangest start to a relationship two people have ever had."

  "You could be right about that, but I'm not complainin'. Do you want me to make the call, or are you worried it will jeopardize this modelin' thing if you change your mind?"

  "If hearing from you does that, it means his offer was never about me modeling."

  "My thoughts exactly."

  "If you give me my hand back I'll get my phone."

  "Not sure I wanna do that, but I guess I have to."

  "You can hold it again whenever you want," she promised, but reaching into her bag and picking up her phone, she caught her breath. "Shit. There's a text from him. Hang on. Oh, dear God. Looking forward to dinner tonight. Call me. Why is that making me feel weird?"