Sweet Stallion Read online

  Naomi watched as Patrick disappeared down the corridor. His rear view was quite the sight, his denim jeans fitting him nicely through the hips and backside. He had a picture-perfect derriere. He had a cool, buoyant stride, confidence pulling him upright, and she couldn’t help but think just how lucky she was, like she’d won the biggest prize at the state fair. He was truly something special and he had a way of making her feel like the most important person in his entire world.

  She was excited to have him join her. She wanted Patrick to know everything about her. To experience her life and what she loved most about it. Despite the business that called for her attention, she planned to ensure that the time they spent together was about them and their getting to know each other. If she had her way, it was going to be one quality moment after another.

  She looked up as he returned, with a tall brunette chatting eagerly beside him. The woman was giggling as if he’d said something funny. A feeling that felt much like jealousy wafted through the pit of Naomi’s stomach. She inhaled swiftly, fighting to keep the emotion from showing on her face.

  Patrick suddenly caught her eye and smiled at her. The woman followed his gaze, her expression tightening into the slightest frown. Looking from one to the other, she forced a smile back to her face, something like dismay seeming to fill her dark eyes. Naomi smiled and waved. Patrick grinned broadly, then politely excused himself and moved back to her side. He leaned to kiss her again, his lips meeting hers eagerly.

  “That woman tried to pick me up.”

  Naomi giggled. “That sounds like a personal problem to me.”

  “You’re not jealous?”

  “Why should I be? You’re with me. It doesn’t get any better than that.”

  Patrick laughed. “You were jealous!”

  “I was not.”

  “Yes, you were. I saw it on your face.”

  “Please,” she said, her eyes skipping around the room.

  “It’s all good,” Patrick replied, as he dropped down into his seat. “I’m jealous when I see other guys looking at you.”

  “What other guys?”

  “Every time we go someplace there’s some guy checking out your ass...sets.”

  Naomi laughed again. “You are so full of it.”

  He gestured with his head. “Like that old boy over there. Watch him. Every time he looks at you he licks his lips.”

  Naomi turned to look, her gaze meeting that of an elderly man who’d been reading. He smiled, his toothy grin reminding her of a beaver. She smiled back and then he dropped his gaze to his magazine again.

  She shook her head, glancing at Patrick. “Now you’ve got jokes.”

  “I am very serious.”

  “You’re just trying to divert attention from the fact you were flirting with that woman.”

  “I don’t flirt.”

  “Yes, you do. You’re very good at it, actually.”

  “I’ll stop.”

  “Or just don’t do it so well from now on!”

  They were both laughing heartily when the flight attendant suddenly appeared before them. “We’re ready to board whenever you’re ready, Ms. Stallion.”

  “Thank you.” Naomi stood up. She turned to Patrick. “Are you ready, Mr. O’Brien? For the adventure of a lifetime?” she asked, extending her hand.

  Patrick’s eyes connected with hers, their gazes dancing in perfect sync. He reached out, sliding his palm against hers as he rose to his feet. “I wouldn’t miss this time with you for anything in the world,” he answered.

  * * *

  Just a few short hours later, Naomi and Patrick arrived in Phoenix. Their energy was infectious, the duo moving strangers to laugh with them as they made their way from the airport to Stallion Farms and Food Co-op.

  One of the farmhands, a young man named Miguel, had arrived in a company truck to pick them up. The teenager chattered away, visibly excited to see Naomi again.

  “And then the teacher said that I had the best essay of the whole class and she was submitting it for this contest. Mama was very proud!” His smile was a mile wide as he tossed Naomi and then Patrick a look.

  “I’m sure she was, Miguel. I’m very proud of you, too. I told you that you could do it.”

  He nodded eagerly. “Thank you, Senorita Naomi. I am grateful that you were able to convince the family to stay so that I could finish the school year.”

  Naomi turned to look at Patrick, who was in the backseat. “Miguel’s family is from Mexico. His parents go wherever there’s work to support their family. He has a little sister here and two others still in Guadalajara with their grandparents.”

  “And he’s able to go to school here? That’s really good.”

  “Senorita Naomi built a school for us kids on her farm. She says education is very important for us to be successful.”

  “The senorita is correct,” Patrick said, as he tossed Naomi a look.

  She shrugged. “Most of the farm workers are migrant and undocumented. They’re good people trying to attain a better way of life for their families. I try to offer as much stability for them as I can, and school for the kids helps. We’re a registered homeschool program and I employ two teachers year-round. Miguel has been one of our prize pupils. He wants to be a journalist and he’s a talented writer.”

  Miguel pulled in front of the homestead and shifted the vehicle into Park. He left the engine idling. “Senora Morgan says the house is ready. She will be back later this afternoon. One of the new kids has a rash and she took him to see the doctor.”

  “Thank you, Miguel,” Naomi responded. “We’ll be down to the fields after we change.”

  “It was nice to meet you, Senor O’Brien.”

  “It was nice to meet you, too, Miguel, but please, call me Patrick.”

  As the youth drove off, waving enthusiastically, Patrick chuckled. “I think Miguel is a little smitten with you.”

  Naomi laughed. “He’s very sweet, but he has a crush on Jamie. She’s one of our teachers. He’s like a little puppy when she’s around. She helped him get a driver’s license last year and he’s been ecstatic ever since.”

  “How old is he?”

  “Nineteen this year. He finally qualifies for graduation and we’re hoping to get him into college in the fall.”

  “Why would that be a problem?”

  Naomi tried to mask her frustration. “His father expects him to work the fields to help support the family.”

  As Patrick nodded in understanding, Naomi bounded up the steps of the clapboard farmhouse. Grabbing the luggage, he followed. Reaching the porch, he paused, dropping their bags as he leaned against the railing to stare out over the land.

  Located just outside the city limits, the farm was rustic, boasting impressive acreage and vegetation as far as his eyes could see. There was an extraordinary peach orchard, lush green lawns, grapevine-entwined gazebos and large shade trees.

  “This is very nice, Naomi.”

  She turned to look where he stared, pausing for a moment to take it all in herself. She drew a deep breath, swelling with pride. “Thank you. I’ve actually missed it.”

  He moved to wrap her in a warm embrace, hugging her tightly. He kissed her, claiming her mouth eagerly. They stood clinging to each other, savoring the sweetness of the moment. Time stood still, allowing them a minute that belonged only to the two of them.

  “Let me show you around,” Naomi finally said, reluctantly pulling herself out of his arms. She gave him a quick peck on the lips. “Then we have to go to work.”

  * * *

  Patrick woke with a start. It took a moment for him to remember where he was and why. At the other end of the oversize sofa Naomi was snoring softly, one arm thrown over her forehead, the other lost somewhere beneath the baggy T-shirt she wore.
He sat upright, shifting his body back against the cushions. He eased his leg out from beneath her, mindful not to disturb her rest.

  Naomi hadn’t been kidding when she said she was putting him to work. After a quick tour of the house, pointing out the bathroom, the kitchen and the guest bedroom, she’d taken him down to the market area, where a team of volunteers and employees were preparing the monthly co-op boxes. He’d lost count of all the people she’d introduced him to, the names and faces quickly becoming a blur.

  After a quick explanation of how and what, he’d found himself carting crates of vegetables and fruit from point A to point B, watching as others dropped the produce into 279 boxes. Once the boxes were completed, co-op members showed up in droves to pick up their merchandise.

  After the first hour, he’d lost sight of Naomi, who kept blowing in and out like the sweetest breeze. By the second hour he’d stopped looking for her, sensing her presence whenever she was near. A few times she brushed past him, allowing her body to lightly graze his as she moved past him. Each time, she blessed him with a smile, once winking her eye.

  When they were finally done it had been pitch-black out, the sun having disappeared hours earlier. Both were exhausted, covered in sweat and hungry. Back at the house Naomi had pulled together a quick salad for two while he showered and changed. After the light meal, he’d washed and dried the dishes while she took her own shower. After a brief conversation about the dry weather, the benefits of essential oils and his impressions about his first day, they’d fallen asleep on the sofa, the calming sounds of indigenous music playing from an iPod speaker in the background. That had been three days ago, and each day since had gone much the same: up at dawn, work, then passing out from exhaustion when it was all over.

  Patrick shifted again, moving onto his feet and heading to the bathroom. After relieving himself, he went back to the main living space and took in his surroundings.

  Everything about Naomi’s home reflected her carefree personality. The styling was a mix of shabby chic with bright colors and vintage furniture. There were tapestries mixed with linens, chenille spreads on the beds, pillows made of bark-cloth fabric and antique chandeliers hanging from the ceilings. The room was soft and opulent, with a cottage-style vibe. Despite the eclectic layout, it all meshed beautifully together.

  He stopped to admire the family photos that lined a mahogany chest. There was the same formal image that had been in her brother’s home, plus other pictures of her and her sister, her brothers, and on the wall, a large portrait of her mother. The kitchen boasted Spanish tiles, copper-bottomed pots, an herb garden beneath the window and more of the potted green plants that decorated every room. It was all things Naomi, and standing in the midst of it, Patrick felt more at home than he had in ages.

  Still slumbering peacefully, Naomi had stretched her body along the length of the sofa, wrapping herself comfortably around the pillows. She’d tucked her head beneath the lightweight blanket they’d shared earlier, the covering muffling her light snores. Everything about the stunning woman moved his spirit. Her energy was infectious, a glowing light that radiated from her core and embraced everyone around her.

  Patrick hadn’t known what to expect, nor had he expected to feel so invested in Naomi and their relationship. But he was invested, feeling like he was waging a lifetime out of their short history together. He knew he still needed to tell her he was unemployed, but realized that the life he’d once seen for himself, a life without Naomi, was no longer what he desired. He suddenly realized they needed to sit down and have a serious conversation about what would come next. Because he was determined they should have a future together.

  Patrick didn’t know how long he’d been standing there, staring at her, watching and wondering what she might be dreaming about. Naomi stirring and throwing her arm back over her head drew him from the reverie he’d fallen into. He took a deep breath, holding the warm air in his lungs as he glanced to the window, to find the hint of sunrise promising another hot day. It wouldn’t be long before they’d have to be up. He was still getting accustomed to the intense schedule she thrived on.

  He leaned over her, gently pressing a damp kiss against her forehead. He picked up the blanket that had fallen to the floor and tucked it around her torso. Doing an about-face, he sauntered into the guest bedroom and threw himself across the full-size bed. As he closed his eyes, sleep returning, he whispered her name, the beauty of it like spun sugar melting on his tongue.

  Chapter 11

  Naomi waved for Patrick’s attention. He’d been working with Miguel, trying to get the engine in one of the old trucks running. She watched as he acknowledged her with a wave of his own, holding up an index finger. With a nod and a smile, she let him know not to hurry, to come when he was able. She turned back to the wooden plank and the hammer she was using to repair the side of the chicken coop.

  She glanced toward him again, watching as he explained something to Miguel. When the roar of the engine suddenly vibrated through the afternoon air, both men whooped with excitement. She laughed at their levity, their exuberance fueling her own.

  Patrick had stepped up to help her in ways she couldn’t have begun to imagine. It had been two weeks since they’d gotten here and from day one he’d been going full tilt on her behalf. She’d been impressed with how he readily got his hands dirty, finding things that needed to be done before she could even think about them. In the past five days the barn had gotten a new subfloor and her woodpile had been stacked and corded. Freon had been added to the cooling unit in the schoolhouse, he’d helped with the monthly co-op orders and had found time to play a game of soccer with the kids. He’d also adapted to her diet and had proclaimed his energy levels were at a whole new high.

  During the few minutes of downtime they’d managed to steal, he asked questions about her business, reviewed her contracts, negotiated a better deal with one of her vendors, all while continually making her laugh. His jokes and one-line zingers continually kept a smile on her face and Naomi couldn’t remember when she’d been so happy.

  Their friendship had grown exponentially. There was nothing they didn’t feel comfortable talking about. Everything from politics to her menstrual cycle to his favorite Saturday morning cartoons had been the topic of discussion at one time or another. He continued to be overly affectionate and playful, and seemed intent on insuring she was at the forefront of every action he took. He had her feeling immensely loved despite neither one of them having ventured to be the first to express what they were feeling out loud. And admittedly, what Naomi was feeling for Patrick was deeply intense. She had allowed herself to be vulnerable, opening herself to him in a way that was completely foreign to her. He had yet to disappoint her, and she trusted him. And Naomi didn’t trust any man. Patrick had her feeling as if she’d stepped into an emotional fire and was surviving the flames unscathed.

  Thinking about him, she suddenly recalled a predawn encounter earlier that week that had left them both panting with anticipation. A bad dream had pulled her from a deep sleep. She’d been lying half on, half off the living room sofa, a spot she and Patrick frequently found themselves in since he’d settled into her home. She’d risen, believing he had moved to the guest room bed, where the early-morning sun often found him.

  Heading to her own bedroom, she’d stripped out of the clothes she’d fallen asleep in, changing to an oversize dress shirt that she didn’t bother to button. Feeling thirsty, she went back to the kitchen for a glass of water. She was surprised to find Patrick standing in front of the refrigerator, guzzling the last of the freshly squeezed orange juice from the plastic container. He stood bare-chested, wearing only a pair of bright white boxer briefs that outlined his curves and bulges. The sliver of moonlight shining through the kitchen window was like a spotlight on his chiseled muscles and café au lait complexion. He was beautiful!

  Her very audible gasp startled him, and
he turned abruptly to find her staring at him.

  “I’m sorry, did I wake you?” Patrick asked, his own eyes widening. His gaze was focused on the bare flesh peeking past her opened shirt, the round of her breasts and the slightly protruding belly button that drew his eye to the lace panties that barely covered her feminine quadrant. He blinked rapidly as he forced himself to shift his eyes upward to her face.

  Naomi had shaken her head. “No, I just needed a glass of water. Are you okay?”

  Patrick smiled, his arm and the empty juice bottle dropping to conceal the rise of nature that was suddenly swelling in his briefs. He turned toward the counter and set the container in the sink. He nodded, his voice cracking. “I think I’m good.”

  Naomi laughed. She moved behind him, reaching into the cabinet for a glass. He was still clutching the edge of the sink as he waited for her to fill it from the refrigerator door, then slowly drink the water down. When she was done, she passed behind him a second time, setting the glass in the sink beside the juice jug. Then she pressed her palm to his back, her fingers gliding over his flesh. Her touch moved him to inhale swiftly.

  “Are you sure you’re okay?”

  “You’re killing me, Naomi. You know that, right?” The aroused look he gave her was all telling.

  She laughed, the sound echoing through the late-night air. He suddenly turned, gliding an arm beneath her shirt and around her waist as he pulled her tightly against him. His touch was electric and she inhaled swiftly. Bare skin kissed bare skin as he dropped his mouth to hers and claimed her lips in a tongue-entwined kiss. Naomi wasn’t sure how long he held her, time seeming to come to a standstill as they reveled in being so close to each other.

  And then the phone rang, the loud peal surprising them both. They turned to stare at the device that hung on the kitchen wall, as if it was a throwback to another time and place. Neither one of them made any effort to answer it.