Of course, now, being sober, I shut them in. It does make me realize, though, that it’s highly likely I really said them aloud last night. It also makes me realize that I don’t remember him saying them back.
I want to die as I think of how uncomfortable my little bomb must’ve made him feel. The only way I can go forward is lightly, as if nothing happened and I’m not “there” yet. Prematurely.
“And for me so that I don’t get pregnant, you mean.”
“Oh,” he says, clearly stunned. “Of course. I guess…I thought…I just assumed you were on the pill, since you and…”
“Brent,” I supply.
“I know his name,” he declares with a wry smile. “I met him, remember?”
“Right.”
“I’m sorry. I’m really doing a shit job of waking you up this morning. Can I just go out and come back in? Let’s try that.”
Releasing me, Trick grabs the box of condoms, stuffs them in the top drawer of the dresser and takes the bag and the coffee back out into the hall. After a few seconds of silence, I hear the lock click again and the door swings open.
Much as he did before, Trick silently lets the door fall closed behind him, but this time he doesn’t stop when he sees me. He goes straight to the dresser, deposits our breakfast, takes me in his arms and dips me like Fred might dip Ginger.
“Good morning,” he whispers, grinning down at me. And then kisses me. Like, really kisses me. By the time he’s done, I’m holding onto his shoulders for dear life, thinking I might melt into a puddle and ooze out of his arms if I don’t.
He pulls me upright and says, “I brought you breakfast because you need nourishment after the thorough ravishing I gave you last night.” I stare at him, mainly because I’m still thinking about where I wanted that kiss to go. “I’m pretending I left you exhausted and weak. Just go with it.”
I smile, warming to his playful humor. “Oh, my! Just what I needed. I’m famished,” I say in my best Southern drawl. Wide-eyed, I continue as an innocent belle might. “It’s like I was ridden by a beast with great stamina last night. But surely it was only a dream.”
Trick is smiling when he hands me a cup of coffee. “Now that’s what I’m talkin’ about. A beast with great stamina. Yeahhhhh.” He takes the lid off his own cup and taps his coffee cup to mine. “Here’s to long, steamy nights. May there be many more where that came from.”
I say nothing, only smile, but in my head I’m thinking Hell yeah!
I watch him as he looks at me over the top of his cup. I’m thoroughly captivated by his charm and that sexy way he has about him. It’s a potent cocktail. He winks at me and my stomach flips over. I smile again, even as I ignore the small part of my brain that’s throwing off warnings about getting too close. I’m pretty sure it’s too late for that.
********
On the way to Trick’s preferred spot to watch the wild Mustangs, I learn that North Carolina, as well as most other states that host a population of the rare and endangered species, has a plan for keeping the numbers of wild horses at a manageable level. Among several other options, they allow for adoption at certain times throughout the year. Trick is hoping to be able to make his dream of owning a Quarter horse a reality by adopting a particular horse he’s had his eye on.
“I’ve watched him for almost a year now. I’m hoping no one has adopted him. I’ve talked to a guy with the Currituck Preservation Society a couple times about this horse. If Rags is still here, I think I’ll be able to get close to him this time. And if I can, he’s as good as mine.”
“Rags?”
“That’s his name. Rags and Apples.”
“You’ve already named him?”
Trick grins sheepishly. “Yeah. I told you, he’s already mine. It’s just not official yet.”
“Where’d you get the name?”
Trick’s smile is nostalgic. “My dad used to say, ‘You take care of a horse with rags and you make them love you with apples’.”
It’s ridiculous how touched I am by that simple and sweet story, and by Trick’s sentimentality.
“And just what do you plan to do with Rags once you get him? If you can get him.”
“The place my father used to stable his horses, the one I was telling you about before, has a couple open stalls. The owner remembered my father and gave me a great deal on the space until I can get a couple races under my belt.”
“So, you’ll stable him there while you train him to race?”
“Yep.”
“And then?”
“Well, after he wins a couple races, I’ll use some of the winnings to invest in a broodmare and look into studs. I can get at least one foal out of them before I need my own place. Then I’ll have a broodmare, a stud, one foal and a winner. It’ll just be a matter of working with what I’ve got until I can get another Quarter horse trained or sold. Rinse and repeat until Rags is ready for stud. By then, I hope to have a stable full of viable horseflesh.”
I nod. “That’s actually a really good plan. Provided that Rags is a winner, of course.” I hate to be the wet blanket, but the business side of me realizes the reality of the situation.
“Oh, Rags is a winner. I know it.”
“That’s pretty confident for a guy who’s never trained a winner before.”
“It is, but now Sooty agrees.”
I can’t hide my surprise. “He does?”
Trick’s smile is smug. And thrilled. “Yep. He rode Highland Runner for the first time a couple days after he got back. Says he’s got something special. For sure.”
“Does Daddy know?”
Trick nods, his smile widening. “Yep.”
“Wow. I bet that was quite the conversation.”
“Oh, it was. And so worth the seven stalls worth of shit I had to shovel to listen in on it.”
I laugh. “I guess that’s one way of doing it.”
“I wouldn’t have missed that little talk for all the money in the world. Or all the clean boots.”
I find it suspicious that my father didn’t mention it. At all. Again I wonder if he knows there’s something between Trick and me. If he doesn’t, he probably will if Mom tells him she saw us holding hands. Of course, as strange as she was acting, who knows? She might not have even noticed.
“That’s pretty awesome, you know?”