Phoenix Rising

I moaned, realizing I was doing it again. I was adding to an almost torturous level of arousal. My mind just seemed to wander back to her, like a chicken coming home to roost. If I developed permanently sore balls or calluses from dealing with it on my own, then so be it. I was a professional, dammit.

I was not here to seduce a prickly, ornery, sexy as all get out little wildcat.

It was a long night, with my mind going a million miles an hour. I couldn't stop thinking about her. How she'd pissed me off already. Or how badly I wanted her.

I was up early in the morning, showered and shaved and on my way to the stables with a thermos of coffee and my lawn chair. Sleep or no sleep, I needed my wits about me.

I had big plans.

Today, I was going to tame a wild thing.

Chapter Six

Phoenyx

"Lift! Lift! From your core!"

I groaned, sweat pricking my upper lip. I was doing basic exercises over and over again, while Clint barked orders at me. Beginner stuff. Kid's stuff, really. He yelled, and I drilled. For hours and hours and hours.

Just like we had every day this week.

He was mostly focused on my stomach for some reason. I pulled my belly button towards my spine like he told me to. He seemed to notice if I lost focus on my form for even a second.

He was that persnickety about the way I held my body.

The man was cruel. Unrelenting. And starting to get on my nerves.

I snorted to myself.

'Starting to get on my nerves' was an understatement.

He was already there, firmly under my skin. He had been since the moment I laid eyes on him. Or rather, since the first time I caught him laying eyes on me.

Clint was leaned casually against the fence, just as nonchalantly gorgeous as the first day I met him. But he was not in the sun. No, that particular hell was reserved just for me. The barn had that entire side of the paddock in cool, blissful shade. In fact, he had an ice cold drink in his hand. And a lawn chair a few feet back.

Sometimes, he sat in it to do his shouting, looking like he was at a tailgating party.

Mostly though, he shouted instructions and criticisms from the fence. Every now and then though, he said 'good form' or 'that's it, keep going' or 'good girl', which should have made me angry. It did the first time. But it also made me walk tall for hours after.

I didn't need his damn approval! I knew that. But it didn't change the fact that I was starting to want it.

Crave it, really.

He looked utterly relaxed as my butt chaffed against the saddle. I wasn't used to staying in the seat for this long. I was a trick rider dammit.

I wanted to swoop and soar! I wanted to move!

"Okay Red, take five."

Red! The most unoriginal nickname ever! I hated all of his terms of endearment. Along with 'Darlin' and 'Hellcat'. I slid off Apollo, leading him over to a stablehand. Clint offered me a drink of water, his gorgeous blue eyes crinkling as he looked me over.

I took the water, tipping back my head to gulp it down. I was thirsty as hell. But the truth was I didn't mind being looked over like horsemeat. Not anymore. Not when it was Clint doing the looking.

Truth be told, I'd done quite a bit of looking him over too, these past few weeks. He looked like an old school movie star, not a cowboy. But he was the real deal.

Tall, handsome, and too rough around the edges for Hollywood. I shivered, remembering how his hands felt when he was correcting my form. Big, warm, and calloused. Strong.

The way a man's hands should be.

I spent a few nights wondering how they'd feel against my skin. Particularly, my more sensitive places. Of course, I had no idea how a man's hands felt. Or anything else.

I'd never had the time or inclination to let anyone tumble me. No inclination until I met him. It irked me that the first man I felt any interest in, only wanted the prize money JJ had promised him if I placed top three in Nationals.

Yep, I wanted Clint McRae. Not that I'd ever tell him that. He'd probably laugh and tell me to leave my schoolgirl crush in the stables.

Beep beep beep.

I looked around.

"Is that my phone?"

Clint had a strict rule about my phone. First thing in the morning, he'd take it. He'd let me have it at lunch and that was it until the end of the day. It was funny how I didn't miss it after the first week. I'd even forgotten to ask for it back a couple times.

"Damn thing keeps beeping. I don't know why you don't leave it at home—“