Free Riding Hard by Vicki Lewis Thompson Page A

other.” He walked out the door.
    Damn it. Damn it to hell. He’d thought maybe he’d found someone who could help him shed the guilt he’d been carrying around for six months. Instead she’d only made things worse.

6
    W ELL , SHE ’ D CERTAINLY loused that up. Tracy stared at the screen door as Drake’s words played in a continuous loop in her head. You’re not ready to trust me.
    No one could blame him for coming to that soul-shattering conclusion. She’d admitted to wanting him desperately, and when he’d been ready to do something about it, she’d told him not to. She’d implied that given time, she’d rather squelch this unwelcome lust. No wonder he’d left.
    Now she had a decision to make. If she really was scared to death of getting involved with him, all she had to do was leave things as they were. He’d keep far away from her now that she’d thoroughly insulted him and stomped all over his pride.
    She paced the living room as she tried to sort through her thoughts. An armed truce sounded awful. Peaceful Kingdom was a happy place, and although she wasn’t as into the woo-woo stuff as Lily, she hated to pollute the environment with bad feelings.
    Besides, she had a mare in the barn who was about to give birth. If she and Drake were barely speaking, the atmosphere during delivery would be strained. That couldn’t be good for any of them.
    Something should be done, and she had to do it. She might not be able to repair the damage, but she had to try. That required working through what had happened at dinner so she could explain it to Drake.
    She resumed her seat at the table. Maybe revisiting the scene of the crime would help her think. Chewing was supposed to stimulate the brain, so she picked up a piece of corn bread and took a bite.
    Obviously she’d responded in a knee-jerk fashion. Until he’d scooted her chair in, she’d managed to keep her sexual response at the level of a low hum. But then he’d come close, very close, and the hum had turned into a rock concert.
    When that powerful surge of desire caught her off guard, she’d gone into panic mode. That had resulted in the babbling, which of course he’d noticed. Normally she wasn’t prone to it, and he’d been around her enough to know that. He’d asked a direct question, and she’d responded with the truth. So far, not so bad.
    But then he’d done the right thing, the gentlemanly thing, and asked if he could help. He’d behaved in the most admirable way possible in such a situation. He hadn’t pounced or leered, or any of a million obnoxious responses that other guys might have had to her confession. He’d quietly asked what she wanted him to do, implying that he was willing to do just about anything. How great was that?
    She’d brushed him off. Why? Closing her eyes, she let her head drop back in despair. She’d brushed him off because she was a big, fat coward. She knew why, but that didn’t help a whole lot. She’d still done damage to a well-meaning guy.
    Ever since she’d hit puberty, her mother had warned her that wanting a man too much was dangerous. Following that advice, Tracy had made sure to date nice men who didn’t particularly turn her on. She’d had a lukewarm physical relationship with two of them. Both men had moved on, which hadn’t bothered her at all.
    When Drake had first showed up at Spirits and Spurs, red hazard lights had flashed. The closer he’d come, the more she’d been convinced—this was the man her mother had warned her about. And a mother’s warning, issued early and often, wasn’t easily set aside.
    Leaping up from the dinner table and hauling Drake into the bedroom would have felt reckless. It would have been the kind of impetuous behavior guaranteed to create the disaster her mother had predicted.
    That was her reason for responding to Drake the way she had—not that she wasn’t willing to trust him, but that she needed time to think about the implications first, to assess and to