Page 18 of Deadly Attraction
Chapter Five
Emma felt Mitch’s eyes on her.
He watched her from the fence near the horse barn as she led Twinkie through his paces with Danika on his back.
The girl was especially broody today. Seeing the new foal had brightened her eyes for a few minutes, but the holiday season was tough on criminals too. Especially young juveniles. Separated from family and friends and unable to participate in the normal holiday festivities, their moods plummeted like Santa coming down the chimney.
Emma glanced over at the far field. Hope was doing well, prancing by her mother’s side. Second Chance seemed to have taken to her new role as mother with ease and a certain pride. She lifted her head from grazing and stared back at Emma for a moment before flicking her tail and nuzzling Hope.
Will was cleaning out Twinkie’s stall, Lady by his side. Salt and Pepper lounged in the sun near Mitch’s feet.
Danika’s guard roamed the area near the house, keeping an eye on the girl while getting some fresh air. Officer Carla Moses had confirmed Emma’s observation about Danika’s mood. “She’s off her feed,” the woman had told Emma, using a term they both understood as Danika had made her way to the barn to see the foal. “Was cryin’ about her momma last night.”
Not surprising. Most 14-year-olds would miss their mother at Christmas, juvenile detention or not. The fact that Danika had accidentally killed her mother only added to the girl’s misery.
“Take him to a trot, Danika,” Emma instructed her.
Danika sat up a bit taller and nudged the horse’s side. Twinkie responded, moving into a faster gait, his gold and white mane lifting and falling. Danika guided the horse around the fenced-in area, as the wind blew her dreadlocks and the horse’s movements provided a brief sense of freedom.
Around they went several times, each pass peeling back another layer of the girl’s mood until she was smiling. Emma caught the girl’s eye on the fourth pass and motioned her in.
“Get the molasses treats,” Emma said after Danika dismounted. “Let’s work on the tricks you learned last time.”
Over the next ten minutes, Danika instructed Twinkie to lower his head on command, step in and out of a Hula Hoop lying on the ground, and lift his front feet when she pointed at each one. Finally, she took the horse through a simple obstacle course.
“Can I braid his hair?” Danika asked when they’d completed the circuit. Her gaze was downcast, her soft voice barely above a whisper.
That would cut into their time on the couch today, but time with the horse was just as important. “After you brush him down, you can do a single braid, okay?”
The girl nodded and led the horse to his stall, freshly cleaned and ready for him.
Emma followed slightly behind, giving Mitch a small smile as she passed. The wind caught his bangs, lifting them, his lovely gray eyes staring her down. No return smile, no shift in the broodiness that matched Danika’s.
The fresh air and horses didn’t seem to change his perspective at all, which surprised Emma. Animals and nature did the trick with almost everyone she’d ever encountered. She’d seen hardened criminals turn into saps over a puppy, stone-cold killers lose their hard edges when planting a garden.
Mitch fell into step behind her as she entered the cool shadows of the barn. Officer Moses appeared at the far end where the other barn doors were open. Her gaze touched on Danika and the horse, then on Mitch. Emma had caught the woman watching him several times.
Hard not to. All that masculinity in slouchy jeans and his black shirt. His jaw had a light sprinkle of whiskers this morning.
He looked like a motorcycle rider. Not the type that hung in gangs, but a lone wolf who needed the freedom, who was addicted to the rush.
Danika led Twinkie to his tie-up, and Emma stopped just inside the doors to give the girl some space as she went through the steps of brushing the horse down. Danika spoke softly to Twinkie and smiled when he nudged the treat bag hanging around her neck. More than once, she gave in and snuck the horse a molasses treat in between brushes.
Mitch sidled up next to Emma, saying nothing. He hadn’t changed into the clothes she’d laid out for him, but had rolled the sleeves of his shirt to his elbows, revealing muscled forearms.
Taking him breakfast this morning had been more for her sake than his. When she’d stolen into the office to turn off his watch alarm at five a.m., she’d caught herself staring at him as he slept under the moonlight coming through the window. One arm had been thrown up over his head, his hair looking like he’d ravaged it with his fingers. His strong jaw sported a hint of whiskers lining his face, the lines around his eyes had been relaxed for the first time since he’d arrived. Sleeping in the monochrome light of the moon, he’d seemed younger, almost…playful.
And sexy as hell.
Long legs stretched out on her couch, that broad chest of his rising and falling with his slow, even breaths, her fingers had itched to touch him, to feel his strength. He seemed so peaceful, so unencumbered at that moment, she’d wanted to lie down right there with him. Curl into his strength and protection and sleep like she hadn’t slept in a long, long time.
How long she’d stood there, she didn’t know. She’d been mesmerized by his beauty, his solidness. Finally, he’d shifted in his sleep and she’d fled, embarrassed. If he’d woken and seen her hovering over him, she would have been mortified at the least, but worse he would have seen her vulnerability.
Come morning, she’d hesitated about going back in to wake him. She might get trapped in that gravitational pull of his and end up watching him again while he slept.
So she’d made a plan. He’d been sleeping so peacefully, she’d hated to wake him, but she brought food, hoping it would do the trick of keeping her focused until his nose detected a different kind of wake-up alarm.
His hair still stood up from all the hand raking he was doing. Was it out of frustration with her or because he wanted to get out of here?
