Free Saddled (The Stables Trilogy #3) by Penny Lam Page A

Maple peeked at the backs of her legs and saw her blood running from crimson to pink as it mixed with her sweat.
     
    In a small act of kindness, J.B. brought them all back to the grooming area at once and hosed the lot of them down with cool water.
     
    Nothing had ever felt so good.
     
    His stony gaze never left Maple, and the pieces of her heart continued to splinter.
     
    “Get back in your stalls,” he growled. No one hesitated. They were too tired, too sore and hungry, to complain or loiter.
     
    Maple collapsed on her straw bed. The only good thing about Brie being away with Reece was that she could finally plummet into sleep.
     
     

 
    Chapter Ten
     
    It was well into night, past grooming and dinner, before Brie returned. Maple pretended to sleep while she listened to Brie being groomed. She wished she could cover her ears. The soft sounds of J.B.’s hands running soap over the brunette’s body were sharp in the silence, creating a mental visual Maple couldn’t free herself of.
    She wanted it to feel like betrayal. She wanted to hate him for it, for his obvious affection toward such a horrible woman. For anyone, really, who wasn’t her. But even as Brie began to let out soft, muffled moans (it earned her a hard spank, but really, what was that but foreplay for J.B.?) Maple couldn’t find it in herself to hate him.
     
    Morbid as it was, she could imagine if she were in J.B.’s place. If everything that people said about Rachel was true, she was a woman impossible to forget. She’d been carved from the world too soon, taken in a way that felt cruel and avoidable.
     
    J.B. had made Maple painfully aware of how much he missed Rachel. How much he’d valued her and cherished her. He was still crazed over his lost wife, going so far as to punish the horse that killed her. Keeping a room filled with her things. Now he had a woman in his stable who was startlingly similar to Rachel. He didn’t know her personality-- how could he? A woman he could see, hear, smell, and…
     
    and touch.
     
    The soft, muted swing of Brie’s stall door whispered through the air. Maple could feel them, hovering together, just on the other side of her. The seconds were anguish, ticking slowly by. There was some soft shuffling and then the gentle click of J.B’s boots as he left.
     
    Her chest burned with grief.
     
    The hay beneath her cheek was damp with tears. Maple hoped her crying was silent enough to not provoke Brie.
     
    That hope was wasted. Minutes after the lock on the door had slid into place, Brie made her way into Maple’s stall and lay on her pallet, body pressed close. The touch of her skin scalded Maple and she cringed away. She knew better than to fight Brie at this point.
     
    “Reece is fantastic, don’t you think?” Maple felt a jab in her side as Brie poked her.
     
    “I wouldn't know,” Maple replied unhappily.
     
    “Oh,” Brie teased, “I don't think that's true. He had a lot to say about you.”
     
    Thank goodness for the dark shadows in Maple’s stall; it meant Brie couldn’t see the furious stains of color she knew were on her cheeks. Reece was a traitor. Maple wasn’t surprised he’d spoken with Brie, but she hated that they’d talked about her. She bit her tongue, refusing to fall prey to Brie’s goading. She wouldn’t ask what he’d said.
     
    Besides, it had been weeks and weeks, and not once had Maple broken the vow of silence. So much had been taken from her, but this-- this was one thing she held onto.
     
    Brie was undaunted. “You should see the naughty painting he's making of me.” She rolled onto her side, fingers toying with Maple’s hair. This intimate touch was nauseating. “We are in a studio. Did you know J.B. has a studio in his house? He must be a painter, too. How very sexy. Gotta love the dark artistic types. Anyway, Reece has me in this amazing get up with my mouth open, like it's eager for a big cock.”
     
    Maple thought her big mouth was ready for