Liberty Bay, page 16
Gina wanted to feel reassured by Wren’s words, but her mind snagged on the word racehorse. She hoped he was more inclined to amble than race now that his career was over. She stood on her toes in an effort to reach the top of her horse’s neck with the brush. “I’ve forgotten how to measure a horse’s height. What is he, about one hundred hands?”
“Close,” Wren said, sharing an exaggerated eye roll with Kingfisher as she walked past him to get her saddle. “He’s seventeen three. He’ll take good care of you, but the offer to trade is still on the table if you don’t trust me.”
Gina pretended to consider the swap, even though she trusted Wren’s judgment without question. “Did he really buck you off?” she asked, gesturing toward Wren’s horse, skeptical not only because the animal in question looked incapable of moving faster than a walk, but mainly because she had seen Wren ride. “I’ve seen you out there on Foam, and I’d be surprised if any horse outside of a rodeo bronc could get you out of the saddle. Even in a rodeo, I’d bet on you.”
Wren looked pleased. “Thank you. That’s a nice compliment.” She shrugged and gave Gina one of her wry grins. “Unfortunately, I was feeling the same confidence in my superior riding skills, and he decided it was his duty to prove just how wrong I was. He came here for training because his owner is terrified of him, and we had a few major battles when he first arrived. He had been well-behaved for about a week when I decided to take him on a nice little walk along the beach. I was meandering along, congratulating myself on what an amazing trainer I was, and the next thing I knew, I was sitting on my ass in the bay before I even realized he was about to buck.”
She chuckled and gave the dozing horse a pat on the neck, as if acknowledging him as a worthy opponent. Gina smiled in return, admiring the ease with which Wren could laugh at herself. There was a sense of spontaneity in the way she talked, without needing to filter her words or worry about the impression she might be making. It felt very different from Gina’s usual interactions with people. She could tell humorous stories about herself, and she never tried to give the impression that she was perfect, but she always felt the underlying need to present a polished self both online and in person. Even her chattier videos, where she answered viewer questions and talked without a script, were edited with the audience’s reactions in mind—whether they were followers or sponsors. Gina had never felt as if she had the gift of just being herself, unless she was speaking from the other side of a lens or screen. She sometimes felt close to it with Maia, but never as much as she did when she was with Wren.
“I suppose he hasn’t been able to get you off since, right?” Gina asked, buckling Kingfisher’s girth loosely around his belly.
“Oh, I really wish I could say you’re right, but I can’t.” Wren came over and handed her a pair of black leather ankle-high boots. “You should wear these instead of your tennis shoes. They’re safer for riding.”
Gina perched on a wooden step stool and exchanged her sneakers for the sturdier boots. “There’s another advantage of being online,” Gina said. “You can edit out the falls.”
“If I could edit out the bruises, both to my ego and my ass, then you might just convince me,” Wren said, double-checking both horses’ bridles before handing Gina a riding helmet and leading the way out of the barn.
Even with the help of the mounting block, Gina’s attempt to climb into the saddle was far from graceful. “I should have brought gum to chew,” she said as they started walking along the path toward the water. “I need something to keep my ears from popping at this altitude.”
She felt a little nervous for the first few minutes, but once she got accustomed to having the ground so far away, she started to relax. Wren’s quiet voice helped, too, as she gave Gina some basic pointers on riding English instead of the Western style she had originally learned. Kingfisher lived up to Wren’s promises, not even tensing up when Duke wheeled with startling swiftness and tried to run back to the barn. Wren calmly got him back in line, and Gina took one hand off the reins long enough to unbutton her shirt pocket and take out her phone.
“Are you hoping to get a picture of me falling off?” Wren asked.
“Of course not,” Gina said with a reassuring shake of her head. “I’m switching to video mode. A simple picture wouldn’t do it justice.”
“Oh, very nice,” Wren said. “Maybe we can switch horses on the way back, and I’ll do the filming.”
Gina gripped both reins and a hunk of Kingfisher’s mane in her left hand and took a picture with her right of a hawk perched on a nearby branch, calmly watching them walk past. “Sure,” she said, moving the camera around to get a shot of Wren with nothing but gray-blue bay as a backdrop. “If you can show me how to activate the camera, I’ll let you hold the phone.”
“Damn,” Wren said, guiding Duke around a fallen tree. “I guess I’m destined to be the entertainment, and you’re destined to document it.”
They fell silent, and the only sounds were birdsong, the water gently lapping against the rocky shore, and the crunching sound of the horses’ hooves as they walked through the loose pebbles. Gina took dozens of photos, alternating between capturing shots of the beautiful scenery around her and of Wren. Wren was quickly becoming her favorite subject, with her quicksilver changes in expression and athletic way of moving. Since the horses made it impractical for Gina to actually touch her, she did the next best thing by taking photos. The phone held between them gave her the chance to focus on Wren without her noticing.
“You need to edit me out of those,” Wren said. She kept her gaze forward as they left the beach and turned onto a narrow dirt trail, but Gina could see the curve of her smile. Maybe she was noticing more than Gina realized.
“No way. I’m building a website for your farm, and I need lots of pictures.” She saw Wren about to protest and continued. “Yes, you need to be in them. Potential clients need to see how well you ride. And how gracefully you fall.”
“Well, unless you want your phone to fall, you might want to tuck it back in its pocket.” Wren reached across the space between them and patted Gina softly on the chest. “We’re going up a fairly steep hill.”
Gina fumbled with her reins and phone for a moment, disconcerted by Wren’s touch, but managed to get her cell buttoned away and her hold on Kingfisher reorganized before they started up the incline. She and Wren had been playfully physical from the start, with light shoves and shoulder bumps, but now every touch seemed to carry with it echoes from the kisses they had shared. She tried to read Wren’s expression to see if she was having similar responses to contact, but she couldn’t tell since the path ahead of them narrowed, and Wren moved Duke into the lead.
“Lean forward like I am,” Wren called out to her. “And don’t hesitate to grab a little mane to keep your balance.”
Gina shifted her weight forward. She hadn’t let go of Kingfisher’s mane since she had climbed on him, and she was sure Wren knew it, but she appreciated the reassurance that she was making the right choice in opting for a feeling of security over the concern about whether she looked foolish or scared.
After the first few yards, Gina started to feel an ache in her thighs from holding herself out of the saddle and balanced over Kingfisher’s shoulders. Even walking on flat ground would have been taxing to muscles unaccustomed to riding—or doing much exercise beyond walking city streets, if she was being honest—but the hilly terrain was sapping her strength. The slope steepened sharply, and she was about to just let go and slide backward, landing blissfully on the ground, when her horse came to a halt.
Any complaints she wanted to make about sore muscles vanished from her mind as she gazed at the vista spread before her. A fir-covered valley stretched before her, offering glimpses of some of the Sound’s many arms. The jagged line of the Olympics rose over the top of the ridge across from them, closer than Gina had realized since they were mostly hidden from sight on Wren’s farm. Another hawk made lazy circles off to her right.
“Do you want to get down and take some pictures?” Wren dismounted and draped Duke’s reins over her arm as she came to Gina’s side. “Let me help.”
Gina swung her leg over Kingfisher’s back and slid down his side, glad to have Wren standing nearby since the long drop combined with her aching legs put her off balance. Wren put a steadying hand on her back and then wrapped one arm around Gina’s middle and gave her a quick kiss on the neck. She stepped away again, as if the touch and kiss had been casual and natural. There was nothing casual about Gina’s response, though.
Wren took Kingfisher’s reins from her, and Gina walked forward until she had a clearer view of the Olympics. She took several shots of the mountains and some close-ups of the shrubs around her before turning around and snapping a quick picture of Wren with the two horses.
“Edit me out,” Wren protested. Gina just grinned, quickly scrolling through the alerts she had received during their ride.
“What’s on there, anyway?” Wren asked.
Gina came closer and angled her screen so Wren could see the readout. “This is my Instagram page, and these are comments on my posts that have come in since we left the barn. This number is new followers, and this one shows how many people liked my posts.”
Wren gave a low whistle. “Those are huge numbers,” she said.
Gina shrugged. “Moderately. My goal is a million.”
“And then?”
“Two million, I guess.” Gina paused. “Does it seem superficial to you, this obsession with numbers?”
Wren handed her Kingfisher’s reins again. “Not at all. First, I know you well enough by now not to ever assign the word superficial to anything you care about.” She paused and rested her palm on Gina’s cheek. The meaning behind her words, as well as her touch, made Gina feel a flush of heat. The intimacy of being known and respected was potent.
“Second,” Wren continued, “I’m the same way when I compete. If I scored ten on every movement in a dressage test, I would celebrate for about five minutes, and then I’d be planning to move up a level at the next show and challenge myself even more. The numbers matter, but it’s because of what they represent. Hard work, learning…everything that has gone into building them.”
Gina leaned forward and kissed Wren, pressing flush against her when Wren slid her free hand into the loose hair at the base of Gina’s neck and tugged her forward. She had instinctively sensed the value of her numbers, but she had never articulated it the way Wren just had. She realized what it meant about Wren’s feelings for her if she was able to look objectively at tech-based demographics and see the real-life value in them. Somehow, Wren’s comments made their relationship feel deeper than any physical intimacy could do.
They broke apart when Duke stomped his hoof impatiently. “You’re for sale. Cheap,” Wren told him as she reached for Gina’s knee to give her a leg up on Kingfisher. Her hand lingered for only a moment on Gina’s thigh, but she felt the pressure even more acutely than she had felt sore muscles only seconds before.
“Come to my place for dinner again tonight?” Wren asked. “No intrusive horses invited.”
Chapter Sixteen
Wren pulled a quiche out of the oven and set it on a trivet to cool. She heard Gina’s knock, followed immediately by Biscuit’s high-pitched series of yips, and she reviewed her game plan as she walked to the door. Keep it light. Don’t push for more than Gina can give. Just have fun.
Really, those sentiments sounded nothing like her. All she could do was try, though. She opened the door and stepped aside as the two dogs leaped at each other, leaning across them to give Gina a quick kiss on the cheek.
“You’re right on time,” she said. “I just took the—”
She wasn’t sure how Gina got her there so fast, but suddenly Wren’s back was pressed against the closed door and Gina was kissing her with a passion that matched everything Wren felt inside. A small part of her wanted to pause and ask what this meant, and where they were going with their relationship, but the rest of her knew the truth. This meant Gina wanted her as much as she wanted Gina. Where were they going? To the bedroom. Maybe just the couch, since it was closer. That was all Wren needed to know right now. No analyzing, no wondering.
She slid her fingers into Gina’s hair, raking the curls back and kissing her way down Gina’s exposed neck. She felt Gina’s quick pulse against her tongue, felt Gina’s low moan vibrate through her lips. Gina’s hands were on her hips, then her waist. Under her shirt and cool against Wren’s overheated skin.
Wren gasped when Gina’s fingertips teased across her breasts, making her nipples feel tight with the pressure of wanting—needing—to be closer, to get rid of even the thin barrier of clothing between them. Her muscles felt weak, but she managed to push herself away from the door and lead Gina toward her bedroom.
Gina pulled back slightly, and Wren stopped.
“You cooked for me,” Gina said. “It smells good in here. Should we…do we need to eat first?”
Wren shook her head with a laugh. “It’s quiche. It’s even better cold.”
Gina smiled and wrapped her arms around Wren’s neck, leaning forward to kiss her again. “Good,” she said when they both pulled away, breathless. “I wouldn’t want to offend your culinary sensibilities.”
“Not a chance,” Wren said. She led Gina the rest of the way to her bedroom, shutting the dogs outside the room.
Gina looked around the room, with its simple bed and dresser, and a nightstand with a small stack of books on it. “See? Here’s the minimalist look I expected from you.”
“All right, then,” Wren said, crossing her arms as if settling in for a long conversation. “Let’s pause and discuss decorating styles.”
“I can’t help it,” Gina said with a laugh. “You fascinate me.”
“And you excite me,” Wren said, moving closer and tracing the line of Gina’s temple and cheek with the softest of touches. Gina exhaled softly, and Wren felt the feathery touch of Gina’s breath against her cheek, followed by the insistent tug of her hands as they unbuttoned Wren’s jeans.
“What about this?” Gina asked as her hand slid under cotton and teased through the wetness Wren felt between her legs. “Does this excite you, too?”
Wren wanted to answer, but her ability to speak evaporated when Gina’s fingers reached deeper inside her. She shivered, pouring the intensity of her feelings into a devouring kiss and throwing out all her resolutions to just have fun and keep things light. Gina responded with as much emotion as Wren was feeling, continuing to explore and stroke until Wren was breathless with desire. Gina pushed against her, moving her toward the bed until Wren tumbled backward onto it. She kicked off her jeans, watching Gina do the same, and then Gina was there with her, straddling her hips and rubbing against sensitive flesh that was no longer under Wren’s control. She came with a shuddering gasp, reaching between them to touch Gina, caress her, and bring her to an orgasm that echoed through Wren’s body, filling every part of her.
✥ ✥ ✥
Gina started to drift off to sleep with Wren’s head resting on her shoulder and her arm draped over Gina’s stomach. Her body felt drained, satisfied and weary after being with Wren, but there was a strange ache of longing deep inside her. Oddly enough, she was feeling a pang of sadness because she wanted exactly what she had at the moment—Wren’s warm presence wrapped in her arms.
Maybe she was merely anticipating the time when Wren wouldn’t be close enough to touch, when they would be separated by miles and not by the few dozen yards between the apartment and the house. Or maybe she was aware of a battle going on between fulfilling the dreams she had had since she was a teenager and giving in to the contentment of being here with Wren. Even the word contentment sounded stagnant in her mind. Stifled, closed. Dull. None of those adjectives applied in any way to Wren, but Gina was afraid of them nonetheless.
She shifted, sliding out from under Wren’s weight and sitting up on the edge of the bed.
“Are you okay?” Wren asked, her voice sleepy as she rolled over and rubbed her palm over Gina’s thigh.
“I’m fine,” Gina said, bending down to kiss Wren on the lips, but pulling away again when she felt arousal stirring low in her belly. “I just need to get back. I have a ton of work to do.”
Wren propped herself up on one elbow. “You need to get back,” she repeated. She laughed, but it didn’t seem as natural and easy as usual to Gina. “Because the one-minute commute will be too much in the morning?”
Gina forced a smile, too. She brushed her fingers through Wren’s hair, fighting the urge to tighten them and pull Wren closer. “I have so many comments to read and responses to write that I’ve gotten in the habit of working strange hours. You get some rest, and I’ll put in a few hours on my laptop before I go to bed. I have a PR meeting in the city tomorrow morning, but I’ll see you when I get back?”
Wren seemed to struggle internally with something, but after a moment of hesitation, she smiled and reached up to where Gina’s hand was still entwined in her hair. She pulled it down and kissed Gina’s wrist, then let go of her hand.
“Sure,” she said, lying back and pulling the covers across her body. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
Gina nodded, knowing there was so much more she should be saying but not sure how to start. Or how to end. She got dressed quickly and let herself out the front door, wishing she had at least called Grover to come with her.
She walked partway down the path to the barn before she paused and tilted her head, listening to the sounds around her. She heard the wind swishing through the tallest branches in the fir trees towering on either side of the lane, but there was a different sound layered underneath. She finally traced it to a clump of what she had initially thought was some sort of ivy, but Wren had called Oregon grape. The same breeze through this cluster of bushes sounded different to Gina, like pieces of paper being crushed and rubbed together.
