Marshal’s Law # 9: Keep your fences horse-high, pig-tight, and bull-strong
Marshal had planned to hold Monica all morning—stroking and kissing and, preferably, reciprocating last night’s boldness with a few surprises of his own. But she’d roundly thrown him out of her bedroom. She’d done it laughingly, her eyes dancing; but she’d done it. So he’d cleaned up in the spare bathroom, hidden his unsatisfied lust behind the zipper of his jeans and took to the stables.
Break her in for someone else? She couldn’t be serious. This was too right to be casual. She was his just as much as he was hers. He had to make her see that.
His phone chimed another e-mail and he stopped in the barn door to open the ap. He stared at the message. They’d agreed to his terms. All of them. The contract was attached. While he stared, two more messages chimed: a real estate broker and a moving agency.
He couldn’t deny it. He wanted this job. It incorporated his knowledge of the business world with his love of horses. It didn’t bother him none to have a decent title again, either: Executive Director. No, he wasn’t in the C-suite. No CEO or CCO. But a decent job with a decent title- it did his pride a bit of good.
Of course, he could turn it down. But the only reason he’d do that is to be with her and Monica would curse him a blue streak for it. She knew how much he wanted this. He’d never told her so. She just seemed to know and she wanted him to be happy.
He wanted to be happy.
He wasn’t right now, though. He was angry; he was desperate. It was looking more and more likely that he was leaving . . . and less likely that she wanted a long distance relationship. It was looking real likely that she was going to find someone else.
He wanted her to come out to the stables in her frumpy housecoat and oversized boots. He wanted to laugh over their crossword puzzle. He wanted coffee and chores and the light of her eyes, watching him.
Oh, hell, he wouldn’t mind a classic roll-in-the-hay, either.
He wanted everything. His old life and this new life, all wrapped up in one.
So when the horses, the only two left in the stables, whinnied a trilling greeting, Marshal had hoped it was her, finished with her shower. He was debating between a sound kiss and leisurely cup of coffee when he found the reason she’d so hastily evicted him from her bedroom.
“Well, now, g’morning, Luke. What’s got you here so early?”
“Roxie brought me, so I could take care of the horses before the 4-H expo.” Luke slowed his step and hooked his thumbs through his belt loops, emulating Marshal’s slow saunter. Old Blu hurried over to greet the boy, pushing on his hand until he finally gave the old hound a pat. “Looks like you beat me.”
“They are mine.” He threw a blanket over Marmaduke’s back and clipped on a lead, to take him out to pasture. Luke followed behind, oddly quiet.
“Marshal, can we go for a ride later?”
Marshal squint his eyes at the grey horizon. Distant trees were dark and naked. The air held a damp chill. It was still early yet. “Why don’t we go now?”
“Now?”
Marshal nodded and stopped by the tack room, lifting a heavy saddle. “Just a short one.”
They saddled the horses, their only conversations were their soothing words to the horses and Marshal’s examination of Luke’s work. When he found no fault, he gave him the compliment. The boy stood taller, stronger for it.
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Marshal's Law
ChickLit“Has that ‘curl up with hot chocolate and read’ feel to it.” ~*~*~ Monica doesn't believe in life after death. Obligations, certainly. But, after her husband's death, there hasn’t been much ‘life’ to speak of. Just her kids, her farm, and the ma...
