1001 Dark Nights Read Free Page A

pup.”
    “You’re right.”
    “Of course I am. Now take a minute and breathe.”
    London closed her eyes, inhaled for ten counts, exhaled for ten, and reopened her eyes to gaze at her friend.
    The freckle-faced redhead wore a smug look. “Better?”
    “Much. Thank you.” Then her gaze narrowed. “Hey, you just did that thing my mother always does. Did she give you instructions on how to get me to cool off?”
    “Yes, and I asked her—but she didn’t offer up her magic mom trick freely.”
    “When were you hanging out with my mother?” London demanded.
    “Uh, since she owns my cutting horse, I see her more than you do.”
    “She may own your horse, but I trained Plato so he’ll always love me best.”
    “Even my color blind horse can see what you’re wearing is all kinds of wrong because you look like a leprechaun hag. Where did you get those god-awful green pajamas?” Mel leaned closer. “Do they have frogs on them? And sweet baby Jesus on a Vespa...are those frogs baring lipstick-kissed butt cheeks?”
    “Yep. Nana gave them to me after Stitch ditched me. Said toads like him could kiss my ass.”
    “Appropriate I guess, but still hideous. Come to my horse trailer. I’ve got coffee and everything to banish that outer hag.” She smirked. “You’re on your own getting rid of that inner hag.”
    “Fuck off.”
    “You love me.”
    “I really do.” She looped her arm through Mel’s. “Let’s start making a ‘get London laid’ list of candidates.” She paused. “You still got your little black book of rodeo circuit bad boys?”
    “Yep. It’s even color coded by cock size, which circuit they’re on, and their ability to last longer than eight seconds.”
     
    * * * *
     
    London was hot and tired, but exhilarated after six hours of working with horses and their riders. About three quarters of her clientele were kids under fourteen. It was gratifying, proving to novice equestrians that their animal was under their control. Contrary to belief, she picked up very few new regular clients at fairs and rodeos. The problems she helped with were rider related rather than horse related. The horse issues would take more than a thirty minute fix.
    She checked her sign-up list, surprised to see her last opening had been filled. Weird name. D.L. A-ride. No gender or age listed. Was it a joke? D.L. A-ride. She watched the gate for a horse and rider to approach.
    After two minutes she closed her eyes, breathing in the familiar scents of hot dirt and manure and livestock, with the occasional whiff of diesel fuel and something sugary like cotton candy or funnel cakes or Bavarian almonds.
    “Excuse me,” a deep voice said behind her. “I’m looking for London Gradsky?”
    London pushed off the fence and turned around, but the you found her response dried on her tongue. Holy balls was this man hot. Like off the charts hot. Two days’ worth of dark scruff couldn’t hide the sharp angles of his face. Strong, almost square jaw, ridiculously full lips. The guy wore a ball cap and dark shades. A short-sleeved polo in ocean blue accentuated the breadth of his shoulders, the contours of his chest and... Holy smoking double barrels, welcome to the gun show; his biceps were huge. His forearms appeared to have been carved out of marble. She stopped herself from dropping her gaze to his crotch. Had Mel sent this man her way?
    “I’m London. Do I know you?” Please don’t tell me you’re a long lost cousin or something.
    “Yeah. We met a while back.” He paused. “I signed up for the last class slot because I needed to talk to you.”
    Needed. Not wanted. Her skepticism reared its snappish head. “Who are you?”
    He encroached on her space, completely throwing her body into shadow and tumult. Then she waited, breath trapped in her lungs for the moment when he tore off his sunglasses.
    Eyes as blue as the Caribbean stared back at her.
    Fuck me. She knew those eyes. She’d dreamt of those eyes. Although last