One to Take (One to Hold 8) - Page 27

“You’ll stay here now.”

You failed, the voice whispers.

A freak and a failure.

Metal roof and metal door.

Metal hand and metal floor…

“You’ll stay with us.”

You will always fail.

Metal skin and metal pore…

I sit up fast, breathing hard and sweating. That dream again. That stupid, nonsensical dream. Why do I keep having it? Rolling over, I reach for Stuart only to find his side of the bed is cold, and I start to cry. I feel like my heart is breaking, which makes zero sense. Still, the weight of my miserable insides pushes me down. Through the crack in the curtains I can see it’s morning. He left me in bed again without loving me.

Tears come harder, and I put my face in my hands trying to get a grip. I’m okay. I have no reason to cry. I’m sad because of the emotions of my dream, and I’m sure a good dose of pregnancy hormones as well. My shoulders shudder once more, and I hug my midsection remembering the intense fear, the panic and sadness. What does it mean?

Pushing the blankets away, I slide to the end of the mattress and go to the bathroom. Splashing cool water on my face, I hold the soft towel to my cheek and inhale deeply, in and out. Again… Inhale, exhale. It’s going to be okay. I’m okay. The dream isn’t real. I’m here with my new family and all the beautiful horses.

“Oh!” I say out loud, dropping the towel.

The idea of working with Jessie doesn’t entirely eliminate the lingering misery of my dream, but it helps. Quickly I brush my teeth then I dash into the bedroom and go straight to my dresser. A sleeveless floral top that ties at the neck and then hangs loose through the bodice is comfortable and cool. I scoop up my black knit mini from last night. It’s a flippy circle that ends mid-thigh.

My sketchpad and pencil are on the desk in the corner, so I grab those while I step into my short, black cowboy boots and head out the door. Noises from the end of the hall tell me I must be the last one in bed.

When I finally reach the great room, I see Bill talking to Sylvia while Winona stands by the stove stirring the contents of a black skillet with a wooden spoon. I’ve given up coffee for the duration, so I only give them a little wave before running out the door.

The sun is almost directly overhead, and the constant breeze pushes my hair off my shoulders. I don’t see Stuart anywhere, but it doesn’t stop me from dashing into the barn.

The crisp smell of fresh hay combined with the heavy odor of leather and livestock floods my senses. It’s a rich, comforting scent. I look all around, but still no signs of Stuart. I do see Freckles in her stall. Her white head with its stark black mane is in the alley looking out at me.

“Hey, girl!” I say gently, going to where she waits and holding out my hand to give her velvety nose a pet.

For the first time, she doesn’t pull back or make those funny, grunty noises. I take it as a good sign. She’s starting to like me.

“Where is your baby girl?” I say softly, scanning the otherwise empty stall. “I bet that naughty Stuart is out training her without me again.”

Turning on my heel, I skip up the alley and out the back where the circle pen and the yard are nearly side-by-side. Sure enough, my handsome cowboy is in the pen with my little horse. He has her on a line, and she’s running around while he turns with her.

“You keep starting without me,” I call, climbing onto the fence.

He glances over at me and gives me a nod. “I’m not going to do all the work. I’m just getting her over the initial stages.”

“How will I ever learn if you don’t at least let me watch?” Speaking of watching, I lean my head to the side, taking in his loose, faded jeans and untucked tan cowboy shirt.

“You’re watching now,” he says, turning his back as she goes and giving

me a nice view of that tight, square ass.

“Looks good,” I say, thinking about the last time we were together in the creek.

I watch as he holds his hand out, and she walks to him. This time when she puts her nose in his chest, he strokes her neck, bringing those sexy hands up behind her ears.

“Good girl,” he says softly. “You’re getting it.”

“No treats this time?” I call out, giving him a wink.

Tags: Tia Louise One to Hold Erotic
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