Dirty-Talking Cowboy (Kinky Spurs 1)

He glanced over his shoulder, discovered Emma frowning at the donkey and the goats. He peeked into the stall over the side and smiled. “The problem is you’re feeding the donkey food meant for the goats.” He gestured to the goats. “And what you’re feeding them is meant for the donkey.”

Emma’s eyes went huge, hands coming to her chest. “Oh, my God, I’ve been feeding them the wrong food for weeks.” She paused. Then her eyes went even wider. “And sometimes they eat it. I haven’t caused some mad cow thing, have I?”

Shep moved around her to grab out the food from the donkey’s stall. “They’re fine. Don’t forget, they’ve all been through far worse, and I’m sure they’re just happy to be fed at all.” Once he switched out the feed, everyone beg

an eating. “Besides,” he said, facing her again, “how would you know what’s what? Nothing is labeled.” He called her over with a wave of his hand. “Here, come on, I’ll show you the ropes.”

Heat flooded her eyes, and he knew that had nothing to do with him being sweet. Rope had apparently become a trigger word for her, causing her to sensually react. Ah, she wanted him to put her in his ropes, did she?

Interesting.

When he reached the three garbage bins full of feed, he noticed a marker resting on the wooden railing. He hastily wrote on the bins: HORSE, DONKEY, EVERYONE ELSE. “Goats, pigs, and cows can all eat the same thing. The horse and donkey have different food.” He reached for the three sizes of scoops on the ground, placing them in the right bins. “In the summer, you don’t need to feed them as much because they’re grazing the fields, so a smaller scoop for each should be good. And always top up their hay in the afternoon, a couple flakes per stall will work.”

“Thank you for explaining all that.” Emma sighed, looking at the bins. “I saw Grams feed them when I visited during the summers growing up, so I got the hay down, but the feed looks exactly the same. Even Google couldn’t help me figure it out.”

Shep laughed. “You know you have a problem if Google can’t help you.”

“Exactly.” Her smile grew.

He wasn’t blind to how much he liked that smile, and what it did to him physically when she offered him such warmth. Sara had been the last woman who made him notice her. And Sara had nothing on Emma. He didn’t only want to take Emma out for dinner, he wanted to take her to his bed. His cravings were worsening. His hunger demanding to be met. It was that damn pouty mouth of hers, the playfulness in her eyes, the spark in her smile.

Christ, his cock hardened like he was a teenager all over again, and it was her doing this to him. All of her. Though he knew there was more going on here than lust alone. When she spoke of her past, there was something so vulnerable about her that spoke to his primal nature. Even her sadness got to him. He’d been around that a lot lately with his mother and his brothers. He couldn’t help them. But Emma he could, that he knew for certain.

He swallowed deeply, forcing himself to look away from her, staying on task. Everything else seemed to be in order in the barn. He quickly tossed the hay into the stalls, since they’d missed the afternoon feed, before addressing her again. “Got any more questions while I’m here?”

She followed his gaze around the barn then shrugged. “I think I’m okay now. The feed bins had me confused. So, it’s morning feed. Afternoon hay around three?”

“Sounds about right.” Shep nodded.

Desolation filled Emma’s eyes as she scanned the animals in their stalls, her voice becoming small. “Grams was so much better at this than me.”

“You’re doing fine,” he said, moving closer. “You need to settle in, is all.”

She snorted a laugh, rolling her eyes. “Oh yeah, I’m doing great. I was dragged by a crazy horse through a field and needed rescuing. On top of that, I’ve been feeding the animals the wrong food for weeks.”

His mouth twitched. “I’m sure Daisy had her share of those moments too.”

Emma’s smile turned sweetly sad. “Maybe.”

Something passed between them then, and Shep thought this Jake was a damn fool. He couldn’t imagine hurting this woman. Emma had been through too much, and through her eyes he saw that pain, visible, raw, bleeding. Protective feelings flared through him. He could make things better for her. He oddly found himself wanting to.

“I’m not sure I can ever thank you,” she whispered, voice thick. “For the help. For the kindness.”

His fingers twitched to reach out and grab her, bringing her in nice and close. “Please don’t thank me. I am not being put out any.” She took another step forward, and before he lost all control, he stepped back. “Let’s go see about getting that horse settled for the night.” Emma was tired. Dark circles rested under her eyes. She needed rest, and he needed time away from her to remind himself now wasn’t the time to indulge himself in the likes of Emma Monroe.

On the way out the barn’s door, he grabbed four flakes of hay, then stepped out into the warm fresh air. Immediately, he spotted Danny atop his bay quarter horse coming down the hill on the left side of the house, Shep’s black warmblood, Tadgh, following at Danny’s side.

Shep moved toward the sand ring, stopping near the gate of the abused horse, and tossed the hay over the fence into the feeding bin next to the water trough. Most horses would’ve made a beeline for the hay; the chestnut gelding whinnied then pranced to the other side of the paddock, watching them, on alert. Shep turned to Emma as she settled next to him. “Your horse needs a name.”

Her nose scrunched. “A name, huh?”

“A name gives someone an identity—a meaning. This fella needs that as much as anyone does. He needs to belong.”

She leaned against the fence, her pretty eyes regarding the horse. “Bentley, that’s what I’ll call him.”

“Like the car?”

She smiled with a nod. “Everyone knows Bentleys are nice and expensive, so hopefully, the name puts off some good vibes.”