Free The Cowboy's Secret (Cowboys After Dark: Book 3) by Maggie Carpenter Page B

prove more effective than the woeful one. “Clint knows me, he was expecting me.”
    Reaching the tack room he opened the door, led her inside and released her, but before she had a chance to speak, or even attempt to run past him into the barn, he swiftly turned and closed the door. As she listened to him turn the key in the lock she clenched her fists and stamped her foot.
    “Dammit, dammit, dammit!” she shouted, and grabbing the door handle she rattled it furiously, but found it well and truly locked. “Shit! I can’t believe this. I’m such an idiot.”
    Looking around she realized the only place to sit was on top of one of the tack trunks, so finding a thick saddle pad she put it in place and dropped down.
    I don’t know how you’re going to talk your way out of this one.
    There’s nothing I can say. I’ll simply tell the truth. My curiosity got the better of me. That’s it.
    Better make sure you sound like you regret it.
    That will be easy, I do, big time.
    Leaning back against the wall she closed her eyes and sighed.
    “I am such an idiot,” she repeated softly. “I swear, there’s something seriously wrong with me.”

CHAPTER TEN
    C lint had been watching for old man Tate and his daughter when he’d spied Amelia’s car driving down to the barn; she was early, very early, and grabbing his phone he’d hastily called Sam.
    “A woman is here to ride Jiminy. She’s arrived way ahead of time and I’m in The Woodshed,” he’d said urgently.
    “I’m out in the back pasture. I’ll get there as fast as I can,” Sam had promised.
    “If she stays down at the barn with Jiminy that’s fine, just stop her if she starts up to the house.”
    “Don’t worry,” Sam assured him. “I’m on my way.”
    A few minutes later the black Mercedes had pulled up to the door, and as Clint had stepped on to the porch he’d glanced down; Amelia was standing by Jiminy’s corral, staring up and watching. Silently grimacing he’d turned his attention back to the matter at hand; the pouty teenager had left the car and her eyes were glowering at him.
    “Come back in about twenty minutes,” Clint had told her father, “and Anastasia, you and I are gonna have a little chat. See if we can work out your problems. You got your phone in that bag?”
    “What’s it to you?” she spat.
    “It’s in there, I made sure of it,” her father replied as he’d climbed back into his car.
    Clint had taken the girl by the elbow and walked her inside, locking the door behind them. He’d already decided on his ‘Shock And Sore’ introduction, a quick, sharp visit with his crop to get her attention, then ten minutes in the corner to consider her predicament.
    Marching her straight to the buffet, knowing the sight of his many implements would be intimidating, he grabbed the crop of his choice.
    “I’ve heard all about you, and you don’t scare me,” she snapped, trying to wrestle away from his grasp.
    “I’m not interested in scarin’ you, but you will listen, and you will lose that attitude,” he said calmly, and lifting the crop he delivered three harsh swats across the middle of her backside, then immediately released her.
    She squealed loudly as she grabbed her bottom, then stared up at him in stunned alarm.
    “Take yourself into that corner over there, and put your hands behind your head,” he growled. “You’ve got three-seconds to do it, and if you’re not there you’ll get three more stripes. Test me and your ass will be sorry.”
    Every defiant bone in her body screamed at her to rebel, to curse at him, to throw a massive tantrum, but the steely glint in his eyes and the burn in her bottom made her pause.
    “One, two-”
    “Okay, I’m going,” she cried, and hands still clutching her stinging seat she moved quickly to the corner to which he had pointed.
    “Hands behind your head,” he reminded her.
    Lifting her hands off her backside she placed them behind her neck, and though she was wriggling, she