“No worries. It appears to have worked out all right this time.”
*
As we headed across the grass toward the large red barn, Adam ran a hand through the hair at the back of his neck. “Maybe we should start with the arena. Give you a feel for what we do here at the BCR. We can get into the specifics of your job later on.”
“Sure,” I said. It was a wonder I could talk at all right now. My brain felt like it was alternately exploding into fireworks and folding in on itself at the same time.
The scent of the dry grass, the dirt, and the wood of the buildings soaking in the summer sun reminded me of all the ranches I’d been to, except for one overwhelming factor. The pervasive and pungent smell of sweaty horses and manure was absent, and the lack of that familiar scent threw me. More than anything I’d seen or discussed in Marsland’s office, that olfactory omission told me this was not a standard ranch.
My stomach felt tight as we approached a sizable barn, and I wondered at something so familiar feeling so threatening. There were no horses inside, or anywhere nearby, and the thought alone made my palms sweat and my head feel light.
Adam stopped in front of the large wooden door. He turned to me and raised his eyebrows. “Ready?”
I swallowed, hoping Marsland couldn’t see how panicked I felt as I nodded. “Sure.”
Adam laughed softly and opened the door.
The odor of human sweat and thumping of boots on hardwood assaulted me as we entered the brightly lit space before the sharp crack of a whip sliced the air.
“Five more rounds, please,” someone ordered in a loud, confident voice that stroked over me like a firm hand. “Luke, if you don’t keep your head up this time, I’m taking you for extra training after supper. Ben, you need to work on your foot placement, but you’re coming along.”
My heart thumped in my ears as we walked along the grey wood wall toward a bearded man dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, wielding a bullwhip in one hand and a riding crop in the other. For a moment, I became transfixed by the man’s olive skin and the curve of his forearm as he hefted the whip. Then my eyes found the others.
I inhaled so deeply and suddenly I barely avoided swallowing my tongue. The photo in Marsland’s album didn’t do justice to the ponyboys in the arena. The accoutrements were slightly different, but the sight of the three almost-naked young men in Doc Martens, thick leather body harnesses and collars made my blood rush through my veins and my breath come quickly. Especially when I noticed they wore the same metal cages on their penises as the man in the photo. Also, like the photo, their muscular arms were held behind them, crossed over the small of their backs, in broad leather cuffs running from wrist to elbow and buckled together, forcing their chests out and keeping their backs straight.
One of the ponyboys turned his head to glance over and stumbled.
The handsome trainer cracked his whip against the floor. “Face forward. Keep your stride.” He appeared to be of Middle Eastern descent with a neatly trimmed goatee and thick, arched eyebrows above deep-brown eyes. He was fucking hot.
“Kamal.” Adam greeted the whip-wielding man. “How are they doing today?”
Kamal shrugged, gaze roaming his charges as they jogged around the arena. “Not bad. They’re coming along.”
Adam motioned in my direction. “Kamal, I’d like you to meet our new stable hand, Jensen Moriarty.”
I forced my eyes away from the ponyboys and remembered myself. I yanked the dusty hat off my head and nodded at Kamal. “Good to meet you.”
“Pleased to meet you as well, cowboy,” Kamal said with a wink. “Welcome to the BCR.” He looped the crop over his wrist and held out his hand.
Kamal’s hand was warm and rough, his handshake firm and friendly. I tried not to let my gaze wander to the whip, but it was useless. Kamal noticed. “The whip is to get their attention, really. And a bit of a threat besides, although I’d never actually use the bull whip on them. Only they don’t know that for sure.”
I cleared my throat and let go of Kamal’s hand, replacing the hat on my head. It made me feel better, more like myself, when I wore it. I needed the comfort more than ever in such strange circumstances.
Adam grinned. “Jensen is under the usual probationary guidelines to see if he fits in here and if he can do the job. He assures me he can. Even though he only recently became aware of what the job might entail.”
Kamal raised a dark brow. “Oh?”
I felt my cheeks flush. “It’s fine. I’m fine.”
“There was a slight mix-up with the emails, and I might have neglected to mention during the phone interview that the BCR wasn’t an ordinary horse ranch,” Adam clarified.
Kamal blinked at Adam, looked at me, then barked a deep laugh. “So, you’re a real cowboy? Not just pretending?”
I shrugged, wanting to run but standing my ground. Kamal must have sensed my unease.
“Sorry.” Kamal peered at his charges, who obediently kept jogging the outside wall of the arena, but couldn’t help stealing curious glances my way. “Well, the boys are gonna love this. A real cowboy to tend them. Don’t you think, Marsland?”
Adam chuckled. “Oh, I imagine.”
