Chapter Two
Two weeks later…
The bus rumbled, jolting Marnie out of her dozing sleep. She shuddered and opened her eyes. Every now and then, her mind would flash a vision of the world shuddering again. These pleasant green paddocks, her brain made them crack and fill with sand. There wasn’t an up and a down anymore, and sometimes she thought it might just open up beneath her and she would fall forever.
Pushing her hands beneath her butt, she sat uncomfortably as the bus rumbled on. She hadn’t seen anything resembling civilization for a while now. It was all paddocks with cows and sheep and the odd horse. It was supposed to be relaxing, but it was just a bit weird. She was used to clogged roads and cars all over the place, merging with little to nothing in the way of notice.
The bus was slowing down, though she wasn’t sure why. Maybe there was something wrong with it. Or maybe they were picking a sheep up or something.
“This is your stop.”
“Huh?” It took her a second to realize the driver was talking to her.
It didn’t look like a stop. It was just a post on a dirt road. The driver was looking at her expectantly though, so she grabbed her bag, thanked him, and got off.
There wasn’t anybody there to meet her. Her aunt had told her that someone called Sam would be there but as she looked around, it was clear that she was totally alone.
The bus driver put the bus into gear and trundled off into the distance. Hell. Marnie pulled out her phone, intending to call the place she was supposed to be staying, but there was no service. This place was a dead zone in almost every sense. A small herd of cattle in a nearby paddock began ambling over toward her, licking their noses, sticking their tongues into one nostril and then the other, basically picking their noses like school kids.
“Gross,” she lectured the black and white beasts.
They didn’t take her criticism on board.
“This whole place is gross,” she complained, waving her hand in front of her face as a pair of copulating flies buzzed past.
A cloud of dust heralded a car coming down a road running parallel to the one the bus had come down. It drew closer and closer, turning into a dusty red Ford ute that pulled up to the bus post. She’d wandered a few metres away, but turned and looked as a guy got out.
He was wearing a blue check shirt and jeans with dirty knees. His boots were brown and covered in dust and dirt and probably some other stuff that didn’t bear thinking about. When he got closer, she saw that he was cute, in a farmer sort of way. He had dark brown hair, shaggy around his ears, and bright blue eyes. He had stubble around his chin. He looked like he had a good few years on her twenty-two, maybe thirty or so. He had some smile lines around his eyes, though he wasn’t smiling now.
“Marnie Sawyer?” He said her name in a rough rumble that was more like a statement than a question.
She lifted her head and glared at him. “Took you long enough.”
* * *
She was cute, but she had a hell of an attitude on her.
Sam had just recently taken over Terako Treks from his aunt and uncle, who had sent him out to pick up the city kid they’d agreed to take on as an extra hand as a favour to some relative of hers. He hadn’t thought much of it when they first told him. Everyone knew how devastating the earthquakes had been. He didn’t blame anyone who wanted to get as far away from them as possible and Terako could always do with an extra pair of hands.
He was starting to get the sense that this pair of French tip manicured hands might be more trouble than they were worth. The girl hadn’t dressed for the situation for starters. She was wearing a tank top that didn’t offer any protection from the sun, short shorts that basically invited thistles and gorse to stick her thighs, her strappy shoes were a broken ankle waiting to happen, and he didn’t care for the sneer on her lipstick-smeared mouth either.
“Sorry,” he said. “Got here soon as I could.”
She looked at him with a stony, unimpressed expression. “You shouldn’t leave people waiting. It’s hot out here.”
It wasn’t often that Sam’s palms started itching within seconds of meeting a girl, but they were practically burning.
“Hold on,” he said. “You can’t have been here that long, I saw the bus when I was coming up.”
“Should have been here to meet me,” she said. “Not very good service.”
“I’m not here to service you, brat,” he growled before he could stop himself. “You’re here to work.”
She looked stunned, as if nobody had told her about that part of the deal. “I’m here to what?”
“This is a working farm. We run horse treks. You’re familiar with horses, right?”
“I know what a horse looks like,” she said, shrugging her shoulders. “That help?”
“You know what one looks like?” Sam snorted in disgust. “Well done.” His voice dripped with sarcasm, but the brat standing in front of him didn’t appear to notice. She was too busy looking down her nose at the dust covering his ute to realize that he was unimpressed by her immaculately styled, expensive haircut, and seriously wondering why he’d even bothered to come. This chick was going to be useless, he was sure of it.
“Chuck your bag on the back and get in,” he told her gruffly. “It’s too hot to stand around out here all day and I’ve got work to do.”
She looked a little scared and backed away and he instantly felt sorry for her. Until she opened her mouth.
“Nuh-uh.” She shook her head. “My bag’s not touching that filthy thing. It will be ruined!”
“Well, there’s no room for it inside the cab with us, so unless you want to leave it on the side of the road I don’t see how you’ve got much choice.”
She just stood there, staring in horror at the ute. He flexed his hands, wanting nothing more than to reach across and slap her disobedient ass.
“Hurry up,” he growled, “before I do it for you.”
When she didn’t immediately comply, he took hold of her over-full bag, wrenched it free from her grasp, and flung it none too gently onto the tray of the ute before taking hold of her arm just above the elbow.
“Ow! You’re hurting me!” she protested, trying to pull away. He held her firm.
“I’ll be hurting you a lot more in a minute,” he mumbled, only half under his breath as he steered her toward the passenger door of the ute. She didn’t fight him like he’d expected her to, but neither did she cooperate. Not really. She did drag her feet toward the ute as he propelled her along, but it was the jerky movement of someone who was doing something mostly against their will.
Sam yanked the door open with one hand while keeping a firm grip on the city chick with the other. If he didn’t assist her into the vehicle they could be here all day, and he didn’t have all day to waste.
“Get in.” It was an order, not a suggestion, but clearly it wasn’t an order she was inclined to obey. She stood there on the side of the road looking forlornly in the direction she’d come from, completely ignoring the fact that he wanted to get going.
“Get in!” He raised his voice this time and added a snarl, and although she turned to him, she still didn’t move.
He had no doubt that the glare she gave him was supposed to intimidate him into leaving her alone, but it didn’t work. He’d been glared at by far scarier people than the sassy woman whose arm he still held. So instead of cowering, he returned a glare of his own; a fierce frown that warned most people they’d better obey, or else.
“Are you going to get in or would you rather stay here on the side of the road by yourself? Just FYI, we’re in the middle of nowhere. That bus has long gone. The nearest house is miles away. If you’re lucky, a car might go past in about an hour. No guarantees they’ll stop for you, though.” He let go of her arm and shrugged. “But suit yourself.”
Leaving her standing exactly where she was, Sam walked around the back of the ute with brisk strides, intent on leaving no matter what the new trek assistant did. Aunt Magda would have his guts for garters if he turned up without her, but that couldn’t be helped. There was work to do, and he was the only one around—well, him and this new assistant—to do it. But he breathed a sigh of relief as she swung into the passenger seat just before he opened his own door.
As Sam settled himself into the driver’s seat he watched his sullen, silent passenger out of the corner of his eye. Her whole body bristled with tension and her nose was turned up in disgust as she gingerly took hold of the seat belt and buckled up. She clearly wasn’t used to dirt; that was for sure.
He flexed his hands again. She was cute, but right now, she was acting like a totally spoiled brat.
* * *
Marnie settled back into her seat and closed her eyes. Every time the ute bumped and jolted over the pot-holed road she felt sick. But after a few minutes she opened them again; closing her eyes hadn’t helped like she thought it would. All it did was trick her mind into thinking she was back in Christchurch, back in the earthquake, as the ground rocked and rolled beneath her feet.
She looked out the window. They were heading toward the mountain range, the towering majestic Southern Alps with snow still visible at the very tips. She’d never been a mountain person. She’d always preferred concrete suburbia to the wilderness, and couldn’t live without cell phone reception and decent WiFi. Would any of that even be available where they were going? And where were they going, exactly?
Bracing herself against the door, Marnie squirmed uncomfortably. The ute had definitely seen better days. Her bum was already numb from the long bus journey and now a spring poked into her relentlessly, no matter how many times she shifted position. No matter how she sat, it hurt. Either the loose spring was jabbing into her butt or it ached from being sat on for so long.
“How much further?”
“Not far.”
Sam didn’t take his eyes off the road when he responded to her question, very unhelpfully, she thought. Why did he have to be so vague? All he’d done so far was order her about and not tell her anything useful.
But he was definitely hot. Unhelpful and bossy, but hot. His hands were huge. The back of the one wrapped around the gearstick was work-roughened and though she couldn’t see his palm, the calluses on the edges of his fingers suggested the rest of it would be tough and hard too, like sandpaper. His shirt sleeves were rolled to his elbow exposing sinewy tanned forearms, muscular and strong.
Who was this guy anyway? Was he meant to be her boss? He’d said something about her being there to work, but she didn’t know anything about that. Actually, now that she thought about it, she didn’t know very much about her current situation at all. Her aunt had told her, probably in great detail, but she hadn’t been listening. She’d been so traumatized from the earthquake and so desperate for a fresh start away from the city that she hadn’t really cared where she went, as long as the ground stayed solid beneath her feet.
Her gaze travelled along Sam’s arm to his shoulder. The muscles in his neck were tense, partially hidden by his shirt. He was badly in need of a haircut. He could look quite sophisticated if his overgrown mop was tamed and shaped instead of sitting on his collar. She frowned at the stubble darkening his jaw. Ordinarily she liked stubble, but this wasn’t the designer stubble she was used to, with precision shaving shaped to emphasize a masculine jaw, making him look sexily rough around the edges. This was just plain unshaven. Personal grooming clearly wasn’t high on his list of priorities.
Peering closer, she wrinkled her nose in distaste at the fine layer of dust coating his clothing and skin. Wherever he was taking her, if it was going to be as dusty as he was, she didn’t think she wanted to go.
A green tin mailbox flashed by on her left as the ute slowed down just enough to slide into the road on the right and clattered too fast over a cattle grid, making her bones rattle. Biting her lip to smother her squeal, Marnie clutched at the door, terrified. She’d been shaken around enough over the past two weeks; all she wanted to do now was stay still. She wanted to sit on something that didn’t wobble and stand on something that didn’t sway. And she most definitely did not want to be tossed sideways in an out-of-control ute fishtailing around a corner on a gravel road.
“I want to go home.” She hadn’t meant to say the words out loud, but they slipped out anyway, sounding strangled and pathetic.
Sam glanced across at her briefly before looking back at the road. “Bit late for that, isn’t it? And where’s home to you now anyway? I thought your house got destroyed?”
Marnie didn’t answer, just scrunched down deeper in her seat. Damn him, he was right. There was no home for her to go back to. Her house was broken, her belongings covered in mud. Everything worth salvaging was stuffed in the bag on the back, getting sprayed in dust. She didn’t want to look at Sam anymore. He was cute, but looking at him just reminded her of all that she’d lost.
* * *
Ordinarily, Sam enjoyed skidding around corners on gravel roads. But the squeak that had escaped Marnie’s tightly clenched lips sent a flash of guilt through him. She was probably still traumatized from the earthquake and the hundreds of aftershocks since, poor girl. He wasn’t being very sensitive to her, rally-driving along the country roads he knew like the back of his hand, but which were completely unfamiliar territory to her. But he was glad to wipe that disdainful sneer off her face all the same.
He had no idea what Aunty Magda was thinking, agreeing to take on a new hand without at least a brief interview first. Now the fallout of her hare-brained scheme was going to be left to him to deal with. The last thing he needed was a useless city girl with issues to deal with.
He pulled up a little way away from the house, outside the hay shed. Before he could say or do anything, she pulled her seat belt off and glared at him. “You drive like a dick head,” she said bluntly. “If you did that in Christchurch you’d get pulled over so fast…”
“We’re not in Christchurch,” he said just as curtly.
It was just a plain statement of fact, but the flash of hurt and sadness in her eyes was obvious and in an instant he felt every inch the dick head she’d called him. She was biting her lip, obviously trying to keep from crying and he felt an impulse to try to comfort her. As annoying as she was, she was still a girl. He didn’t like making girls cry; at least, not this way.
“Hey,” he said, his voice softening as he reached for her. She pulled her arm away from him before he could touch her again, a near feral ferocity transforming her pretty face.
“You can go fuck yourself!”
She wrenched the door open and ran. He was stunned for a second, then he realized he was going to have to go after her. She didn’t have a clue where she was or where she was headed. She was impressively fast in those stupid shoes though. At first he didn’t hurry after her too quickly. He figured the electric fence would stop her when she got to it, but she put her hand on the post and jumped it as though she’d been hopping farm fences all her life.
“Hey! Stop! Girl…” What was her name again? He couldn’t remember as he broke into a run after her. She was headed for the paddock with the bull in it, assuming she didn’t break her ankle before she got to old Henry.
* * *
Marnie ran with tears in her eyes, blurring her vision. Everything was green here. Green and occasionally brown. She dodged the brown bits as she ran, not knowing where she was going, but knowing she didn’t want to be anywhere near that man. He was the worst. She’d come all this way and now she was being dragged around and yelled at. It wasn’t fair.
She could hear him shouting after her, but she ignored whatever it was he was saying. “Stop… Bull…”
“Bullshit,” she growled to herself. “Swearing at me even now. Dick.”
Just then she saw the mouth of a concrete tunnel. She bolted inside it, not really knowing why. As soon as she was inside it, she stopped, panting. It had been a while since she’d sprinted like that.
He must have been right on her ass, because within seconds he was there, crouching outside the mouth of her little hiding place. He fixed his eyes right on her and crooked a finger at her.
“Come here, little girl,” he drawled.
Little girl. The words made her stomach do flip-flops. She didn’t know why.
“I’m not going anywhere with you. I’ll live here if I have to.”
“You’re in a ditch,” he said. “It floods with farm runoff.”
“Runoff?”
“Sheep shit.”
“Oh, god! Gross! What the…” She came crawling out as fast as possible under his less than amused gaze. “Is there anything not covered in fucking filth out here?”
“Watch your mouth,” he warned. “Aunty Magda doesn’t like swearing, and neither do I.”
“Oh, ick…” She was still too grossed out by the filth on her hands, especially considering its origin. She looked around for something to wipe her fingers on. There was nothing. Except—he was standing there, already covered in dust and dirt as far as she could see.
Following her impulse, Marnie reached out and wiped her hands on his shirt. The moment her fingers made contact with his torso, she realized that his body was hard underneath that fabric. Rock hard. She hadn’t felt a body on a man like that since… well, since ever. For a second, she forgot that she hated him. She forgot everything, including the quakes and…
“What the hell!” He swatted her hands away, the flat of his palm making sharp contact with the back of hers. “Whaddya think you’re doing?”
“Doesn’t make any difference to you, does it,” she smirked, satisfied that she’d gotten her own back. The two muddy handprints on his stomach looked good. Sort of… intimate.
He cut his eyes at her, but she thought she saw a slight flicker at the corner of his lips too. He didn’t really seem to care about the extra dirt, but he had an issue with her, that much was obvious.
“Little brat,” he growled. “You’re going to end up with your rear tanned if you don’t watch out. Come on. Aunty Magda is going to want to know where you are.”
He turned on his heel and started walking away, leaving her with her mouth open, her mind replaying those words over and over. Tanned rear? What was he threatening her with exactly? And why did it excite her so damn much?
Now that they were both walking, she had a hard time catching up with him. His legs were a lot longer than hers, and he was wearing far more practical footwear. Maybe she should get some boots. Not that there was anything even faintly resembling a store anywhere around here. Looking around, all she could see was grass, more grass, a few trees planted in heavy lines, and then the mountains in the distance. Animals dotted the rolling terrain, but that was about it. A sense of isolation started to sink into her bones and she hurried a little more so as not to be alone.
“Don’t run off again,” he said gruffly as she got within a few steps of him. “We’ve got a bull in that paddock over there and he’ll go for you if he gets a chance.”
“Ohhhhh, that’s what you were saying,” she said. “I thought you were swearing at me.”
“I was,” he said, turning to face her. She stopped hurriedly, almost running into him.
“You’ve got to start listening,” he said, his hands on his hips as he looked down at her, the muscle in his jaw twitching. “You don’t seem to know why you’re here, and having known you for five minutes, I’m guessing that’s because you didn’t listen when you were told.”
“You don’t know me!”
“You’re right. I don’t. But I know you haven’t taken a thing I’ve said on board since I started talking, and if you keep it up, I’ll have to smack it into your little ass.”
* * *
Sam hadn’t meant to actually say that, but the threat slipped out before he could stop it. This girl was about the most spankable chick he’d ever met. From the second she’d opened her mouth, he’d wanted to lay his hand, or maybe his belt across her ass. She filled out her jeans nicely; he gave her credit for that.
She stared at him, shock written all over her face. He was ready for her to go off again, but to his surprise, she didn’t. A red hue suffused her face and she pulled her eyes away from him and looked down at the grass.
“Shut up,” she mumbled. “Dick.”
Her swearing was undermined by the fact she couldn’t even look at him. She sounded petulant and small, and really in need of that spanking he was talking about.
Maybe nobody had ever laid down the law for her before. It wouldn’t have surprised him. He was curious about her, why she was out here. She obviously didn’t like the country much, so if she’d had anywhere else to be, or anyone to be with, he reckoned she would have taken that option.
“That’s enough of the back chat,” he said, putting a deeper note in his voice, same as he did when the farm dogs were acting up.
She didn’t answer back, just folded her arms over her chest defensively and looked out to the distance.
“Come on,” he said. “Magda will have Milo and super wines. Maybe some bubble log, if you’re lucky.”
* * *
“What’s bubble log?” She didn’t really care, but she had to break the silence somehow as she followed him up the cracked concrete path to the house.
Sam raised an eyebrow as he looked back over his shoulder at her. “How can you not know what bubble log is? CWI ladies have been making it for generations! I thought it was a childhood staple.”
Marnie shrugged. “I’m from the city, remember? We don’t have the CWI there. The ‘c’ in it stands for ‘country,’ not ‘city.’ And city women have more to do with their time than join ladies’ institutes and sit around talking about knitting and baking all day.”
Biting her lip to fight back the giggles that threatened to erupt from her at the furious expression on Sam’s face, she gave him an innocent smile.
“How do you know so much about the CWI then, being from the city and all?”
“I have a grandma. Well, actually, I had a grandma.” She swallowed. “The earthquake claimed her.”
“I’m sorry.”
She bit her lip again, forcing back tears this time, rather than giggles, as memories floated back. Good memories of special times she’d shared with her grandma were overshadowed by the horrendous nightmare of the earthquake that had been so terrifying and claimed so many lives. She would not cry. Not here, not now. She’d shed enough tears over the past two weeks to last a lifetime.
“And Grandma liked baking, dammit!”
Sam’s hand on her shoulder, the strong fingers gripping gently, comfortingly, tipped her over the edge. She tried to shrug him off as tears stung her eyes, wanting to preserve some dignity, but he ignored her silent protest. Instead, he drew her in toward him as she lost the battle against her tears and he held her against his hard body, one hand tangled in her hair, the other rubbing her back, as she cried into his shirt.
It felt good, being wrapped in his arms. His body was hard, strong, and muscular, and he was much taller than she realized, because her head nestled perfectly just under his throat. She felt safe, but more than a little embarrassed. She barely knew this man, yet she was snivelling all over his shirt. Still, he didn’t seem to mind, and it was nice having him be kind to her instead of bossy.
She swiped at her eyes with the back of her hand, sheepish. “But I still don’t know what bubble log is.”
The wink Sam gave her made her insides somersault. “You’ll find out soon enough.”
Before they reached the veranda, the front door opened and a woman who appeared to be in her late sixties bustled out, her face lined, her eyes crinkled at the corners from her wide smile.
“Welcome! You must be Marnie. I’m Magda, Sam’s aunt.”
Marnie looked around. “Who is Sam?”
“Samuel!” Magda scolded. “Did you not introduce yourself? Where are your manners?”
“No, he didn’t,” Marnie said. “I was expecting someone called Sam, but that could have been a woman, for all I knew. He didn’t tell me anything about himself at all!”
Although she’d enjoyed being in his arms just minutes before, now Marnie enjoyed the blush that crept across Sam’s face. He squirmed slightly under his aunt’s scrutinizing glare and it was all she could do not to giggle with glee. Certain she’d found an ally in his aunty Magda, she put on her most innocent smile.
“He was late to pick me up,” she informed the older woman.
“By about two minutes, brat!” Sam growled. He flexed his hands, glaring at her menacingly.
“And he drove like a maniac on the way home, fishtailing around the corners,” she snarked.
“Samuel!” Magda scolded again, the welcoming smile having completely left her face.
A tingle went down her spine as Sam glowered at her fiercely, his hands now clenched tightly into fists at his sides.
“And that was after he threw my bag onto the back of that dirty, dusty old ute!”
Magda sniffed and turned away. “There’s a lot of dust and dirt out here, love,” she murmured. “You’d best get used to it.”
Marnie felt deflated as Magda’s heavy footsteps echoed down the corridor inside. Looked like the older woman wasn’t going to stick up for her after all, and she’d be left to deal with that … that brute, alone. She didn’t belong here at all, she was totally out of place.
“You tried to get me in trouble, brat!” Sam growled. “You probably would have, too, if you’d left off the bit about the dust. Aunty Magda is a stickler for manners. And for punctuality. But it hasn’t rained for six weeks; dust is just a fact of life out here. None of us like it much, but we’ve all had to get used to it.”
“Oh.” She didn’t know what else to say. Having experienced Sam’s kindness, she felt the tiniest twinge of guilt at having tried to use his aunt to gang up on him.
“So what happens if I do get you in trouble?” Marnie couldn’t resist asking.
“You get your ass smacked.”
She snorted. “Yeah, whatever! By who?”
Sam glared at her. “Me.”
“I’d like to see you try. Dick.” It was a direct challenge, especially with the insult tacked on the end, but one she very much hoped Sam wouldn’t take her up on. Not yet, anyway.
“You’ll get that chance pretty soon, brat,” he assured her.
Leaning his shoulder against the front of the house, Sam stood on one leg to rid himself of his filthy boots. Marnie knew she should do the same, but she couldn’t bring to herself to drop the subject just yet. It was far too intriguing. Almost as intriguing as Sam’s socks, which were stripy red, blue, green, and yellow with the individual toes each a different neon colour.
“So how does that even work, anyway? How do you not get in trouble when you screw up?”
Sam exhaled loudly, probably with the exertion of taking off his boots, but possibly with frustration at her questions. “I’m the boss here, not Aunty Magda. So if I screw up, I have to fix it.”
“And if I screw up?”
“You probably get your ass smacked.”
“No, I don’t think so. I’m an adult. You can’t hit me.” Although she spoke determinedly, she felt her face heating up under Sam’s penetrating stare. He was towering above her, his legs hip-width apart, with his arms folded across his chest in a manly alpha-male way that made her feel small, helpless, and vulnerable. His whole stance told her that he could, indeed, hit her if he chose to. His whole stance told her that smacking her butt not only could be done, but it wouldn’t take very much effort at all. She was small—a hair over five foot four in her strappy shoes—and he had to be well over six foot tall.
“Come on, take your shoes off. Magda will be waiting.”
Bending down to unbuckle her expensive, strappy sandals, she felt Sam’s disapproval wash over her.
“I hope you brought some more appropriate footwear,” he said. “You won’t last five minutes trying to work in those things.”
“No, I didn’t,” she snapped, straightening to glare at him. “I didn’t bring the right footwear. I didn’t bring the right clothes. I didn’t bring any fucking foam sticks or bubble wood or whatever it is. It’s all wrong, so you may as well get it over with and tell me how wrong and terrible my whole existence is.” She waved her arms in an encompassing manner.
He did not look amused by her outburst. “I’ll deal with you when Magda goes out to tend the goats,” he said, his tone grim.
“Yee haw,” she said, mockingly, putting on an American accent for no reason other than she didn’t really know how to take the piss out of the country lifestyle without it. “Grind some chickens and pick some cows.”
He shook his head curtly, turned on his socked heel, and walked inside.
She followed after him, feeling a little hollow in the pit of her stomach. This guy was big, and she was pissing him off, almost on purpose.
The moment she stepped into the farmhouse kitchen with Magda, she felt better. Magda was a calm, kindly presence and Sam didn’t seem to be quite as scary when she was there. He obviously respected the older woman a lot, and she seemed fond of him too.
Bubble log turned out to be awesome, rice bubbles mixed with honey and sugary goodness to make a slice that was chewy and crunchy at the same time. She had two pieces and would have had a third if not for Sam’s brow lifting a fraction and igniting her nerves.
“You help Marnie get settled in, Sam,” Magda said once she was satisfied Marnie had been fed and watered. “I’m out to milk.”
She bustled out of the room, leaving them alone together again.
“Come on,” Sam said. “Your room’s upstairs.”
She followed him with no small amount of trepidation. The house was old enough to have been built just the slightest bit before people got tall. Sam had to stoop under some of the doorways, and he basically filled the narrow staircase leading upward. The room he took her to was small but clean with little flowers on the wallpaper and a crocheted blanket covering the double bed. The furniture was all from the early sixties, dated, but it would do.
“Not exactly city standards I’m sure, but…”
“It’s fine,” she interrupted him with a shrug.
“Good,” he said. “Now, to pick up where we left off…”
She had no idea what he was talking about, but she felt his hands on her waist and the world spin and then she came down prone over his lap. He’d sat on the bed and pulled her down on top of him, his hard legs beneath her hips, one strong arm wrapped around her waist, snugging her tight to his body.
“Fuck! What! Hey!”
He’d been warning her practically since they met, but that didn’t mean she was any less shocked—and it definitely didn’t mean she was just going to let him do this to her. She fought against him with every bit of her strength, trying to break free of his grasp.
* * *
She was panicking, bucking over his thighs. Sam was experienced enough in dealing with spoiled, spirited fillies to know if he knew if he let her up, all he’d be teaching her to do was to act out when he spanked her—and he had a damn good idea that he’d be spanking her a lot, so she may as well get used to this position now.
“Settle down,” he soothed.
“Let me up!”
“That’s not going to happen,” he said, keeping a firm hold on her as she twisted and squirmed.
“Sam, you let me up now or… or…”
She didn’t have much to threaten him with and they both knew it. For better or worse, she was stuck out here with him—and he with her. Sam didn’t intend to have some stroppy city chick giving him attitude for the next however long.
“Just let me up, okay?”
She sounded a lot smaller now. He could hear the breath catching in her throat. She was genuinely scared, probably because she didn’t know what she was in for and probably because she knew she deserved whatever it was.
“I’ll let you up when I’m done with you,” he said, patting her butt.
His touch set off another set of squirms and bucks, much as he’d expected it would. Handling a spoiled girl wasn’t all that different from handling horses. Had to be calm and patient and above all, firm. Make doing the right thing easy, and make sure that they knew misbehaviour wasn’t going to work.
Horses tended to learn quite a lot quicker than humans though. As he held Marnie in place and let her go through her struggles, he was thinking about how he was going to introduce her to the horses. He’d have to start with one of the older, calmer geldings first. Taxi, probably. You could put anyone on Taxi and he’d plod around the trek and return to base pretty much on autopilot. But really, he couldn’t wait for this girl to meet Trixie, the pint-sized pinto with an attitude. That little mare could be as much of a brat as Marnie was shaping up to be. They’d either love each other or hate each other.
As she settled down over his lap again, he gave her another gentle pat and held on as she flipped out, but less intensely and for not quite as long as she had the previous couple of times.
“Good girl,” he murmured as she started to settle with his palm steady on her bottom.
* * *
There was something in his voice, a soothing quality that made the deeper part of her relax. When he’d pulled her over his lap, she’d been anticipating blinding pain and god knows what else, but he’d barely touched her so far, and his big palm spread across her butt didn’t exactly feel bad.
“Please don’t spank me…” Marnie could barely believe she was begging him like this. “I’m… uhm… sorry?” She tried the word, not really liking how it felt in her mouth.
“You’re not sorry yet,” he said. “You don’t have any reason to be. This is about giving you one.”
“No!” she said quickly. “I am sorry, seriously, I am. Really.”
“Uh huh.” He didn’t sound convinced. “What are you sorry for?”
“Uhhhmm… I’m sorry you don’t like my shoes.”
His palm left her butt and returned with a swift smack.
“Owwww!” she screamed as his hand met her bottom, not because it hurt too bad, but because she was expecting it to.
“You can cut the drama,” he said with a snort. “When you get spanked properly, you can make sounds like that, but not for this one. This is a warning. If you act out like you’ve been doing since you got here, giving me attitude and mouthing off, you’re going to get spanked. Hard. I need someone out here to help me, and by the sounds of things you’ve got a lot to learn. I don’t have time to argue with you all day.”
With that, his palm landed on the seat of her shorts with another crisp swat. It didn’t hurt, but it also didn’t not hurt. To her surprise, what it mostly did was send a hot blush through her body, making her face burn more than her bottom did.
He repeated the treatment a dozen or so more times, working his palm over her bottom with those slaps that made her blush and squirm. She was being spanked. Actually spanked. She couldn’t believe it, even though it was currently happening. Every time his palm landed against her butt, it sent a thrill through her body and made her hips dance. She tried to stay still, but she couldn’t help it. It was doing things to her.
After twelve or so smacks, he seemed to be satisfied that she’d learned whatever lesson it was he’d been teaching. Marnie was just squeezing her thighs together, trying not to give her secret away. She hadn’t been with a guy in a long time and being pressed up against this big beast of a man, his hands so close to all the most intimate areas of her body, it was making her react in a way that was anything but sorry.
“Do we have an understanding?”
“Yessir,” she said quickly, the ‘sir’ part coming from some random part of her brain.
“Good girl. You know, you can be cute when you’re not being a brat,” he said, rubbing her stinging butt gently.
She bit her lower lip and tried to not make the noises she was tempted to make. Not cries of pain, but sounds of something else. Thankfully her shorts were covering all the strategic parts of her anatomy, so he couldn’t know that while he’d been spanking her, she’d been getting wet.
After a couple more minutes, he let her up. She was both glad to be allowed to stand, and a little disappointed it was all over. Keeping her face turned away from him, she studiously avoided his gaze in case he saw the truth of her reaction written there.
He stood up, smoothing his palms over his jeans. “Look at me, Marnie.”
She couldn’t, not until he took her by the arm and used the fingers of his other hand to tip her chin up.
“I know you’ve been through a hell of a time,” he said, looking down into her blushing face. “And I know this place is about as far away from home as you can get—and maybe that’s a good thing.”
“It’s not a good thing,” she insisted. “Why is it a good thing? Do you like seeing me floundering in a place I don’t fit, like a fish out of water?”
Sam chuckled, and she wanted to punch him. He’d already made her butt burn and now he was laughing at her misfortune? He really was a piece of work.
The glare she gave him was one she’d perfected over the years, designed to make even the most intimidating of people quiver. But Sam didn’t flinch. Instead he smiled, his eyes crinkling up at the corners in a way that made her want to melt, but she steeled her resolve. She was not going to succumb to his charms. Not after the way he’d just manhandled her over his lap and… and… she couldn’t even think about that right now. Not when her butt was still tingling and her pussy was still wet
“It’s a fresh start,” he said simply, interrupting her thoughts.
“Maybe I don’t want a fresh start?” she snapped. “Maybe I want my old life back?”
“Maybe you do,” Sam conceded. “But that’s not likely to happen, is it? The earthquake changed everything.”
Although she continued to glare at Sam, and even stomped her foot for good measure, he still didn’t react. If anything, his smile widened, like perhaps he found her amusing. She huffed dejectedly and pouted.
“Come on, let’s go find you some decent boots and I’ll show you around.”
“I don’t want to be shown around.” She knew she sounded petulant and spoiled, but she didn’t care. She didn’t care about anything anymore.
“Would you rather another spanking? A proper one this time?” Gruff, growly Sam was back; his patience was obviously wearing thin.
A shiver went down Marnie’s spine at his tone, as she considered his words. What was a proper spanking? Had the one he’d just given her been improper? She giggled. Yes, improper probably was the right word to describe what Sam had just done to her. She’d quite liked it, though. And because she’d liked the improper spanking so much, she assumed that a proper one wouldn’t be nearly so enjoyable. Life seemed to be like that: the proper things were never as much fun.
She couldn’t help asking the question anyway, though. “What does a proper spanking entail? How is it different to what you just did?”
Judging by the way Sam’s hands clenched and unclenched by his sides and the way his jaw stiffened, he didn’t like her question much. But then, that didn’t really surprise her. So far, Sam didn’t seem to like very much about her at all.
“It will be hard, and it will hurt,” he growled. He flexed his right hand. “Shall I show you?”
She gulped, unsure why she was still intentionally pissing him off, and shook her head. “Nah, I’m good. I guess you can show me around.”
Sam walked to the window and heaved it upward, sliding the bolt into a hole halfway up the frame to hold it in place. A blast of hot air rushed inward, hitting Marnie in the face.
“We can start here if you like.” Sam pointed out the window. “See those mountains? We do overnight treks out there. And follow that river along, that’s mostly where we go on the shorter treks. Four hours return to the waterfall.” His voice was animated as he described the land he quite obviously loved.
Marnie took a step closer so she could see where Sam was indicating. As she stepped forward, he moved back slightly and she ended up wedged between his body and the window frame, her shoulder up against the hard ridges of his muscular arm. Her traitorous body remembered being held by that strong arm just moments before and reacted; her shoulder burned at his touch, sparks shot to her core. She couldn’t see the river. She couldn’t even see the mountains. All she could focus on was Sam, and the way his touch made her feel.
Sam continued to speak but Marnie was oblivious to his words. She felt heat rise to her face as she remembered the way it had felt as he’d held her fast, upended over his dusty thighs, his huge palm resting lightly on her rear. She was so confused! The man next to her was a brute. One minute she was in his arms while he comforted her, the next he was whaling away on her ass. Even worse, she’d enjoyed both situations.
She realized, too late, that Sam had stopped speaking and was looking at her expectantly, as if waiting for her to answer a question.
“Do you?” The slight quirk of his brow sent her insides flip-flopping madly again.
“Huh?”
“Socks.” Sam sighed loudly, exasperated. “Did you listen to anything that I said?”
“We-ell…” Marnie drew the word out into several syllables. “I did at first,” and then I just started thinking about you, instead of listening.
“Do you have any socks?”
Marnie thought. She did, of course, in her bag. But where was her bag? Was it still on the back of that filthy ute? Crap!
She nodded.
“Good. Get them. We’re going for a walk.” Sam gripped her upper arm tightly and held her close, just inches from his face. “And you listen to me, girl. You’re not to go running off again, understand? This is a farm. There’s dangers here you know nothing about. This isn’t the city, you know. So you stick with me, all right?”
“Yessir,” she whispered, hardly daring to breathe.
* * *
Leading the way down the stairs, Sam tried to rein in his anger, but he only partially succeeded. What the hell had Aunty Magda been thinking? She hadn’t—that much was obvious. The new girl was so far out of place he couldn’t have found anyone less suitable if he’d tried. She was disobedient, far too sassy, spoiled, and didn’t listen when she was being spoken to. None of which boded well for her future at Terako Treks.
“Get your bag,” he snapped at her as they got close to the front door. “Grab your socks out of it and leave it all here; I don’t have time to wait for you to fluff about.”
She wasn’t moving. He turned to glare at her and found her standing, staring at him, with her arms folded across her chest in an outrageous display of defiance.
“A gentleman would get it for me,” she said accusingly. “Not very good service here, is it?”
“We’ve been through this already, brat,” he growled. “You’re here to work, not be serviced, and I’m not a gentleman. I’ve never claimed to be one, and I won’t be starting now. I’m not going to run around after you doing things for you that you’re perfectly capable of doing for yourself. Besides which, you’re not exactly a lady. Not with the mouth on you that you’ve got.”
“Bastard.” She mumbled the word as she pushed past him and stomped down the rickety steps to the ute, her city shoes sending up clouds of dust.
“Watch your mouth,” he warned. But he felt like a bastard as he watched her struggle to drag her big bag over the high sides of the ute and up the steps to the house.
Her body was rigid with tension as she pulled on her socks and she didn’t say a word to him as he put several pairs of boots of varying sizes in front of her, spares they kept for riding guests who didn’t bring their own.
“These are riding boots,” he explained as she pulled the first pair on. “We’ll have to get you some proper work boots, but these will do in the meantime. They’ll be better than those strappy sandals, anyway. Do they fit okay?”
She glared in response, so he took that to be a ‘yes.’
As she followed him out to the barn he wasn’t sure which was worse: her sassy, bad-mannered attitude she’d been displaying or the stony silence she was giving him now.
Throwing open the big double doors of the barn, he breathed in deeply of the familiar horsey scent.
“God, it stinks in here!” Marnie’s voice sounded nasally and distorted and when he turned to face her, she was pinching her nostrils shut between her finger and thumb. He stifled a laugh. This smell was nothing. When it was full with horses on a hot day… that was when it really stunk.
“Do you know how to muck out stalls?”
Her blank expression told him all he needed to know.
“It’s when you clean out all the soiled and wet sawdust,” he explained. He grabbed one of the rakes hanging up on the wall. “You use this.”
“You want me to… to… shovel shit?”
“Not right now, no. But this will be one of your jobs, when it needs to be done.”
“You can’t make me touch shit,” she moaned, her desperate tone barely above a whisper. “Nobody told me about this.”
She looked pale, like the very thought of mucking out a stall terrified her and he almost felt sorry for her. Until he remembered why she probably didn’t know anything about her current situation.
“You mean, you weren’t listening when you were told about this,” he corrected.
“No,” she insisted. “Nobody told me.”
* * *
He was looking at her that way again, his brow drawing down over his eyes. She had disappointed him. She felt like the shit he wanted her to shovel. Like something lower than whatever dung was undoubtedly on his boot. This guy was hot and capable and he was probably already with some country girl who knew all about horses and had the right shoes and who didn’t make him scowl every six seconds for some new infraction.
The sensation of arousal from that spanking he’d given her had long faded with the smell of manure. Instead the feelings of inadequacy, disgust, and rejection triggered her flight impulse.
“Okay, that’s it. I’m going home. Seriously. Take me back to the bus stop. I’ll just wait there until one comes.”
She felt sick to her stomach with longing for something familiar. It was bad enough when she’d had to deal with everything being covered in dust. But now he was expecting her to clean up after horses? That was about as far beneath her as any job could be. She shouldn’t be surprised though. He’d treated her with pretty obvious disdain since she got there. Maybe he thought she was too dumb to notice the way his lip curled, or how his eyes darkened every time she didn’t know some stupid farm thing.
“I can’t take this,” she said, backing away, holding her hands up in surrender. “This was a huge mistake. You know it. I know it. Let’s just cut our losses.”
He leaned against a stable door and looked at her with an expression even worse than derision: pity.
“Where are you going to go, little girl?”
The words little girl made her squirm inside, but she was too upset to give way to that feeling. She was close to crying again, but she wasn’t going to. Not this time.
“I don’t care,” she said, backing out of the stable. “Anywhere but here.”
He watched her, not moving. The muscle in his jaw ticked, but he didn’t say anything. He just watched her as she got further and further away. She didn’t stop until her boots hit grass, then she stalled, knowing there was probably a fence behind her.
“Come on,” she said. “You can get rid of me right now. I know you want to.”
“You don’t know what I want,” he said, rubbing his hands together in a gesture that made her seat tingle. “But let me tell you what I’d like right now. That’s for you to stop talking about leaving, and start learning. Mucking out is just one part of this job. It’s probably the worst, but there’s other things that make up for it.”
“Like what?”
“Like the horses.”
Just as he said those words, she felt a puff of warm air against the back of her neck.
She turned her head to find herself looking into the long face of a horse that must have ambled across the paddock to inspect her. It was gold- and white-coloured, marked sort of like a cow, and had a white stripe running down over its head. Surprisingly soft, but very strong lips took a nibble at her hair.
“Hey!” She frowned. “What are you doing?”
The horse made a sound like it was laughing at her and lifted its head up high, waving it back and forth.
“That’s Trixie,” Sam said with a grin. “She’s young and pretty green still, but she’s a character.”
“She’s a terrible hairdresser,” Marnie grumbled, smoothing her hair back from her face. “Am I going to have to ride this horse out of here, or are you going to take me back to the bus stop?”
Sam’s face fell into a more serious demeanour again. “First things first, you are not to try to ride Trixie. She’s broken, but…”
“She’s broken?” Marnie frowned. “That’s so sad. What happened?”
“I mean,” Sam smiled and paused, as if he was trying not to bust out laughing as he walked over to her. “I mean she’s been trained to accept a bridle and a saddle and a rider, but she still acts out a lot because she’s only four years old. It’ll take her a few more years to settle down and be a safe ride for someone like you.”
“Someone like me. You mean someone too dumb for anything better than shovelling shit. Let’s go already.”
“Marnie,” he said, his use of her name making her quiver. “You’re not going anywhere. I need a hand, and you need a place to stay. We’re just going to have to make this work.”
“Why can’t you find some other help? I’m pretty much the worst option you could get.”
“Well, maybe,” he agreed gallingly. “But I’m not having you run off into the countryside.”
“So I’m, what, a prisoner here? You’re going to stop me from leaving if I want to?” She lifted her chin in challenge, and found him meeting her rebellious gaze with a steady, stern look.
“That’s right, little girl.”
* * *
The stunned look on her face told Sam she hadn’t been expecting that answer. Truthfully, he hadn’t thought about it before he gave it. He meant it, though. She was spoiled, and she was a brat. She was going to take a lot of teaching to be useful. She was a problem—but she was his problem and he had no intention of letting her run out on him. Or, more precisely, running her off. Her inexperience wasn’t her fault, and he hadn’t exactly rolled out the welcome mat.
“You can’t keep me here,” she said, her outrage somewhat blunted as Trixie nuzzled her again, trying to take hold of the strap of her tank top. “Cut that out, horse!”
“You have somewhere else to stay? You have money for accommodation lined up?”
Her face told him that the answer to both questions was a resounding no.
“You’re going to pay me?”
“The law is pretty clear on having to pay workers,” he said, rubbing the scruff on his chin. “Even totally inexperienced ones.”
“Well, I haven’t seen an employment contract.”
“True. Aunty Magda probably didn’t want to welcome you with paperwork. I’ll get that sorted. You’ll start on $16.50 an hour and…”
“Minimum wage,” she sneered.
“You get room and board too, brat. It’s not a bad deal for an apprenticeship.”
He watched as she thought about that. Trixie helped by nuzzling her ear.
“Stop it, horsie!” She giggled, nudging Trixie’s head away again.
She was more than cute when she smiled. She was utterly adorable. Her sparkling green eyes, which could hold such derision, lit up with real joy. Her blonde hair, which looked to have been carefully straightened, was starting to curl where Trixie had mouthed it, and the dust she hated was all over her shorts and her top. The length of bare leg between her shorts and the top of her riding boots was alluringly curvy. Sam felt a bolt of attraction as she wriggled next to the horse, who had taken a relentless interest in her.
“I can’t wait to see the part where you outline your unorthodox disciplinary policies,” she grinned, half-turning to rub Trixie’s nose with her fingers.
The position made that shorts-covered rear stick out, causing more than one part of him to twitch with interest. Don’t screw the crew, Sam, he reminded himself silently. Besides, she was almost ten years younger than him, and obviously emotionally unsteady from the quakes. He had to get his impulses under control and take care of her, both as a new employee and as a guest of the family.
“Okay,” she said as Trixie continued to nuzzle her. “I guess I can stay. But I’m not shovelling…”
“You’re going to learn to muck out, and clean tack, and saddle a horse. You’re going to learn to pick hooves and wash down and when you’ve learned all that, you’ll learn to ride.”
“You’re going to teach me all that?”
“Mhm.”
“That’s a lot,” she said doubtfully.
“You’re a smart girl, you’ll get the hang of it.”
She didn’t look convinced, but as she softly petted Trixie’s nose, she seemed to come around.
“One condition.”
“What’s that?” He thoroughly expected her to say that he couldn’t spank her.
“You can’t growl at me for not knowing things I have no way of knowing, or act like I’m some piece of shit because I didn’t come with a whole bag of horse costumes or whatever it is you people wear.”
“Fair enough,” he agreed with a laugh. “I’ll take you down to Farmlands tomorrow and we’ll get you sorted.”
“Okay,” she said. “Deal.”
He extended his hand and she slipped her smaller one into his. He gave her a firm shake.
“So you are my boss,” she said as their hands separated.
“Uh huh.”
“Haven’t really had a boss before,” she said thoughtfully. “I’ve always been freelance. This is going to be so weird.”
“In a lot of ways,” he agreed. “We start work at six.”
“Six! I don’t get up before, like, ten. Nine at the earliest.”
“I’ll get you up at half past five,” he said. “When we get busy, the horses need to be fed and ready, we have to make sure they’re still sound, have to make sure…”
“I don’t get up that early though,” she said stubbornly, as if it was up for negotiation.
“You will here.”
“Uhm, I won’t though.”
“Little girl, I will drag you out of bed, spank your ass, and send you down to breakfast every morning if I have to,” he threatened, the growl back in his voice.
* * *
Marnie scowled. Five-thirty? Seriously? That was still night-time! No way was she getting out of bed at that hour, it just wasn’t happening. But the way Sam was standing there staring at her, all stern and everything, she knew that she probably wouldn’t have too much choice. He’d already shown her how much stronger than her he was, so she knew he wouldn’t have any difficulty physically dragging her out of bed if he chose to.
She pouted. “I suppose I can try. But I’ll be grumpy,” she warned. “Very grumpy. I don’t do mornings.”
“I can fix grumpy.” Sam grinned.
“And I’ll need coffee,” she said. “Lots of coffee.”
“You can have all the coffee you want.”
“Mornings hate me,” she declared. “You’re going to regret this.”
“Mmm, probably,” Sam agreed. “But we’ll just have to make the best of it, won’t we?”
Trixie blew down the back of her neck, making her jump. She’d forgotten about the horse standing directly behind her. Turning, she stroked the velvety muzzle. Marnie had never been this close to a horse before, but with the fence between them, she felt safe enough. What was it Sam had said she’d be doing? Putting on saddles and something to do with hooves? That sounded a bit scarier. She sure wished she’d been listening when her aunt had told her about this job.
“So how many horses are on this place anyway?” she asked, stepping back from Trixie. “And where is that river you showed me out the window? Are there any fish in it?”
Sam grinned. He was so handsome when he did that; the way his eyes lit up made her wish she actually fit in at a place like this and that he could see her as more than a burden.
“There’s trout in the river,” he told her. “And we have a couple of dozen horses, not all of them are in work. How many we have here at the barn depends on how busy we are.”
Marnie gulped. She was going to have to learn the names of two dozen horses? Sam must have noticed the dumbfounded expression on her face because he chuckled, and his eyes crinkled up at the corners as his rumbly laughter washed over her, making her insides turn to molten lava. Damn the man for having such an effect on her!
“Come on, little girl, let’s go see the river. You been on a farm bike before?” He held a hand out to her in invitation but she ignored it.
There were those words again. Her tummy clenched.
“Why do you keep calling me that?” she demanded. “I’m not a child.”
“No,” he agreed, “you’re not. But still, it fits.” He stretched his hand out further toward her and wrapped her fingers in his, tugging gently. “I want to show you the rest of the herd, and the waterfall.”
Sparks shot through her palm as their hands connected and her whole body prickled with a kind of energy that she couldn’t describe. Was Sam feeling it too?
With her fingers locked in his, Marnie had no choice but to follow along behind Sam. She had to scurry to keep up with his long strides and the borrowed boots, which were ever so slightly too small, rubbed against her heel with every step she took.
Sam led her around the other side of the barn to where a mud-encrusted two-wheeler motorbike was leaning against the wall. Like the ute he had picked her up in, it looked like it had seen better days.
“Come on, we’ll take the bike.”
Marnie froze. “You expect me to ride on that thing?”
Sam looked at her. “Sure! Why not?”
“It’s filthy, for one thing.” Marnie screwed up her nose. “What is even on it? It stinks!”
Shaking his head, Sam sighed. For someone who insisted he would teach her everything she would need to know to work here, he sure didn’t have a lot of patience.
“It’s a farm bike,” Sam explained, speaking slowly, like he thought she was a bit daft. “Of course it’s going to be dirty. But it’s perfectly safe. And it beats walking. Come on!”
Marnie crossed her arms across her chest. “Nuh-uh. Can’t make me.”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Sam growled, clenching his fists tightly by his sides. Somehow, his stern features looked even more handsome when his face was creased up into a frown.
“Aunty Magda doesn’t like swearing,” Marnie pointed out. “Isn’t that what you said? If I’m not allowed to use naughty words, neither are you.” She stabbed her finger in his general direction triumphantly, but her smile faded when Sam exhaled loudly and flexed his hands menacingly.
“If you don’t want your ass smacked again, I suggest you be quiet and do as you’re told,” he snarled.
Pulling the bike upright and kicking the stand back up, Sam wheeled the bike around in a circle so it was facing the right way, then he threw his leg over the seat, balancing the machine between his dusty thighs. Marnie felt her face flush at the memory of lying across those very thighs not so long ago.
He held his hand out to her. “Get on,” he ordered.
“Shouldn’t we have helmets or something?”
Kicking the stand back down with his boot, Sam sighed. Then he gently leaned the bike over until the stand took its weight, then dismounted. “Yes, you’re right, we probably should.” He indicated back the way they’d just come. “Back into the barn.”
Dragging her feet, Marnie followed Sam back into the barn. The smell of horses wasn’t so overpowering this time, and her nose didn’t wrinkle up in distaste of its own accord like it had the first time she’d entered the building. He turned left into a small room and turned on a light; as her eyes adjusted to the brightness after the dimness of the barn, Sam’s bulk made him look like a giant.
She looked around. It was crammed full of horse paraphernalia—saddles, halter, bridles, reins, stirrups, and other things she didn’t recognize. She had no idea what most of the stuff was for. Curious, she turned in a circle, staring at all the equipment. So many saddles! And she would have to clean them. Isn’t that what he’d said?
“Lots of things in here for keeping disobedient little girls in line.” There was a distinctly amused note in Sam’s voice, and she quivered, her curious gaze finding a row of stirrup leathers hanging on a hook.
Keep her in line? Surely he didn’t mean…
Pushed back against the wall, almost touching her boot, a selection of riding crops sat in a tall plastic bin. Her buttocks clenched involuntarily as Sam pulled one out and waved it at her before tapping it against his palm. She felt her eyes widen. Surely not… No way was he smacking her with a riding crop! She backed up a step, getting ready to run. This was too much.
Obviously sensing her trepidation, Sam reached past her and returned the riding crop to the bin. “Don’t worry, little girl.” His deep voice washed over her, soothing her. “As long as you do as you’re told, you don’t have anything to worry about.”
Her heart pounded so loudly she was surprised Sam couldn’t hear it. Emotions she didn’t recognize had raced through her when he’d waved the crop at her like that, and now that he’d put it back where it belonged, she felt oddly disappointed. What would it feel like to have the crop biting into the tender flesh on her ass? Would it be exquisite, as his palm had been? Would the dampness return to her pussy, bringing her to a state of perfect, embarrassing arousal as the first spanking had done?
She could vaguely hear him talking in the background, but she was too busy thinking about the riding crop, and wondering how on earth she was going to get her head around all this stuff, to listen to him.
Crack! A sound like a gunshot exploded right beside her and she jumped, startled. She spun around, her hand on her chest in fright, her heart pounding even more.
Sam grinned, then reeled in his stock whip. “I thought that might get your attention,” he chuckled. “You weren’t listening to one word that I said, were you?”
The blank look she gave him clearly told him all he needed to know. Raising his arm, he cracked the whip again, whipping up the dirt in front of her feet, just about scaring the living daylights out of her. She put her hands up to her mouth to try to stifle her scream, and squeaked pathetically. She felt the colour drain from her face.
“What the actual fuck?” It came out as barely more than a whisper, but Sam heard. His face darkened as he raised one eyebrow.
“You might want to pay more attention, little girl,” he growled, winding up his whip again. “Unless you want to find this whip cracking across your ass instead of next to it.”
She squirmed under his penetrating stare. He had a way of making her feel so small, so naughty, with just a look and a stern word.
“As I was saying, when you weren’t listening, helmets are compulsory here, for all riders. So you may as well find one that you like, and keep it; you’re going to need it, eventually.” He pointed the handle of his whip at the shelf in front of them. “Helmet. Find one that fits. Small on the left, bigger on the right.”
“Do I get one of those too?” She asked the question as she pulled out various helmets. Most of them were black, but there were a couple of coloured ones too. There was a pink one, toward the smaller side, but not all the way down at the end. She pulled it on and put it on her head. It fit perfectly.
“A whip?” He grinned as he stepped forward and helped her adjust the buckle under the chin. “Oh, you’ll get that alright.”
It was obvious from his tone that he wasn’t intending on giving her one of her own, rather he was talking about using it on her, teasing her with more bold innuendo.
“Mhm. Cute,” he nodded, palming the helmet and rocking it back and forth, then side to side. “Very good. Suits you, little girl.”
“How would you like it if I called you a little boy?” She frowned under the thick brim of the helmet.
“You can try,” he smirked. “See what that gets you.”
He was still holding that whip in his hand, coiled like a snake and probably just as dangerous. She thought about forming the words. She thought real hard, but they didn’t come. There was nothing little about him, that was the thing. He was very… Big. In every way.
* * *
Did she have any idea how bloody adorable she looked, standing there pouting with her pink helmet, wrestling with herself to try to taunt him? God. Sam’s heart swelled just looking at her. As much as she made him want to whip her ass every other minute, she also made him want to wrap her up and cuddle her and look after her. She needed looking after. She needed rules and discipline. She needed him to strip her and fuck her senseless…
Sam brought himself to reality with a start. Now he was standing there zoning out. Whatever she had was catching.
“Right,” he said. “Good. Helmet. We can get going.”
“What about your helmet?”
He never wore a helmet when he was riding the farm bike, or when he was riding the horses for that matter, unless there was a real reason to.
“I’ll be alright,” he said. “Just as long as you’re protected.”
“You’re supposed to wear a helmet.”
She was right. Legally everyone was supposed to wear them. He had one, somewhere. Not a riding helmet like she was wearing, but a bike one. Was it in his office?
“Hold on,” he said. “Let me get it.”
He had an office in the back of the stable where he did the books and signed riders in for treks and things. It needed a clean and a tidy up. He was sure he’d last seen that helmet here. Now where was it…
Five minutes or so later, the helmet eventually turned up beneath a pile of horse rugs.
Marnie looked at him with a disapproving stare as he chased a couple of spiders out of it and settled it over his head, visor up.
“Happy?” His voice was muffled a little by the chin protector.
“Delirious,” she said sarcastically.
His hand was on the whip, twisting it free and sending the length of it out toward her with a flick of his wrist. The lash snaked through the air and found her butt in a heartbeat.
She yelped and jumped, clutching at the affected cheek. The whip had caught her just under those all too short shorts and he could see the pink little mark it had left in its wake.
“Jesus! Stop that!”
He smiled to himself. He could probably work the lash down into her cleavage and have that top off if he wanted. Instead he cracked the whip again, next to her feet this time. She jumped and danced on the spot, yelping even though he hadn’t touched her.
“Stop it! That’s not nice!”
“It’s very nice,” he purred. When she jumped, the sweet curves of her body moved in just the right way. She was a hot little thing and the longer he spent standing in front of her with a whip in his hand, the more he wanted to ply it across her body. He’d been whip-cracking for years, as a hobby and for the odd competition. It came in handy with stock sometimes too, but it had never been as much fun as it was right now.
She looked like she was about to get upset though, and toying with her wasn’t fair. He had to get his act together and be the boss she needed him to be.
“Come on,” he said, looping the whip back up and clipping it to his belt. “Let’s go.”
Marnie followed him back out to the bike. He got on it first and gestured behind him. “Climb on up.”