Lana Kilgore slid off her horse and led the graceful, black Arabian into the barn. Since she graduated from Harcroft Prep a month before, Lana had plenty of time to ride over the summer before heading off to college. With her parents in Europe, it was the perfect diversion during the day, and Lana loved to ride. She had begun horseback riding lessons when she was eight, and her passion for riding had only intensified. Lana was never one for competition, but since Kilgore Farms was only a ten minute drive from home she spent as much time as she could with the horses.
Davis Kilgore, a real estate magnate and entrepreneur, had amassed a fortune by the time he was thirty-five. He spent a few years as a playboy before settling down -- albeit half-heartedly -- with Lana's mother, Elaine, a former model from Australia. It was from her mother that Lana got her natural, light blond hair and hazel eyes. Her hair was rarely cut, so it nearly reached her bottom and hung in loose, beachy waves. While her mother was 5'9" and rail-thin, Lana was 5'6" and toned from riding and participating in sports at school. She had never been able to identify a trait inherited from her father. Everyone else thought it was obvious -- Lana clearly had her father's superiority complex.
Clasping the reigns, she strode down the aisle between the stalls. Her temper flared a little -- where were all the stable hands? Never once had Lana saddled, un-saddled, or groomed her own horse. It was simply unnecessary when her father paid people to do it. Impatient, she stopped half-way to the opposite end of the barn.
"Hello?" she called out, exasperation apparent in her voice. When no one appeared instantaneously, she screamed louder. "Where are all the dumb, fucking farmhands?" she whispered under her breath. She had no intention of leading the horse one step further until someone came to take care of him.
In the tack room at the end of the barn, Jack Thomas was almost finished oiling one of Lana's many saddles. He had heard her first, whiny cry and hadn't budged an inch. Great, Super Bitch is here, he thought to himself. It was getting late. The other hands had left for the day and the manager was in his house, a few hundred yards away. Jack was the only one within earshot. This was one of many reasons why he was beginning to question the decision to take the job at Kilgore Farms -- after all, half the family ranch in Montana was his. When his brother finally got around to buying him out, he certainly wouldn't be oiling uppity little Miss Kilgore's extra saddles anymore.
He gave the leather one more rub, and it crossed his mind that Lana had once straddled that very spot. She was undeniably sexy with her long blond hair, firm ass, and what Jack guessed were 32C breasts. But that attitude was fucking unbearable. He tossed the sponge into the bucket, set his jaw, and marched out into the barn.
Lana straightened up immediately when she recognized the new farmhand. "Do you work here?" she asked snidely. She knew very well that Jack Thomas had been working at the barn for two full weeks now. She had caught him eyeing her frequently, and that wasn't the only reason why he intimidated her -- and turned her on. He was physically imposing at a muscled 6'3", but his silence and emotionless face were just as striking. He was dangerous. And Lana liked it.
He stared her down for a moment, rubbing his oil-stained hands on his already grubby t-shirt. When he answered his deep voice was firm and steady. "Yes, as a matter of fact I do."
"Then untack my horse. Now. I wasn't aware that my father employed deaf farmhands. Didn't you hear me calling?" she spat.
"I did." Jack sauntered towards her. "But only a snobby little bitch like you would expect me to jump at your beck and call." Did I just say that? he thought. Insulting the big man's daughter was never a good idea. But two weeks of irritation -- and lust -- was about to bubble over.
"Bastard!" she squealed.
He smirked a little, liking her feisty reaction. "Now, why don't we teach you a little bit about how to take care of the horses you love so much?" He closed the distance between them before Lana could utter a word. Snatching the reigns, he harnessed and clipped the horse for grooming and handed her a brush. Jack moved close to her and pulled the saddle and pad off with ease, the muscles in his arms rippling. Lana tried, and failed, to avert her eyes. Just to have something to do, she began to brush the horse.
"Not so hard, huh?" he prodded. He'd won the battle, and Lana knew it. The war, however, could still be hers.
"Who the fuck do you think you are? You're almost thirty and you're paid to clean up horse-shit. I told you to groom my horse, so do it!" Her face flushed a deep pink and she panted after her outburst, her lips slightly parted. Jack's eyes had darkened as she screamed, and his face looked hard as stone. He didn't move, didn't speak. The rhythmic rise and fall of his chest was the only indication he wasn't a life-like statue.
His silent defiance pushed her over the edge and she hurled the brush at him as hard as she could. "I said do it," Lana yelled.
Before the brush hit the ground -- far from its intended target -- Jack took two lunging steps toward her. She backed up until she was pressed against the raw wood of a horse stall. Her quick movement had preserved less than an inch of space between her heaving tits and his chest. Jack's arms remained at his side, but the restraint clearly took a lot of effort. Lana refused to surrender, despite his aggression, and glared up at him. Something in his eyes scared her, and for the first time she realized that there was no one else around. What was he going to do to her? Whatever it was, she realized she was asking for it.
"And I told you I'm not at your beck and call," he said tersely.
Without thinking Lana raised her hand and slapped him hard across the face. Jack's cheek reddened where her palm had made contact. She gasped, surprised at her own action. Jack inhaled sharply and his eyes flashed. In an instant, he had taken both her wrists in one hand and pulled them roughly up above her head. It was only then that Lana noticed the moisture that was beginning to collect between her thighs.
"Apologize," Jack demanded.
"Fuck you!" Lana said slowly and deliberately.
