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Book Blast: Horseplay by Mary Karlik
Join Mary Karlik and the Killion Group as we celebrate the release of Horseplay with this 16 stop Book Blast from March 21st to 25th. Included in this book blast is exclusive content, a spotlight of the book, and a giveaway. One GRAND PRIZE WINNER will receive a $25 Amazon Gift Card!
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So how about teaching me to rope?”
“Sure. Grab it here.”
I accepted the offered rope at the spot he’d indicated, and tried to hide my surprise at how light it was. It seemed more like a toy than a real cowboy thing.
He showed me how to secure one end of the rope to the saddle horn and after a few instructions I swung the rope over my head. Well, let’s say I tried to. I managed to keep the loop aloft for approximately two seconds before it fell pitifully from the air, smacking both Montana and me.
I was braced for laughter. Instead, he patiently took the rope from me, recoiled it, and gave me a few more instructions. Attempt number two was more pathetic than the first. “I can’t seem to get the arm action for the throw.”
“Here, let me show you.”
He climbed on behind the saddle. He tried to guide my arm with his, but he was too far behind me to reach me. “This isn’t working. Move to the front of the saddle.”
I did, and Ty scooted over the cantle. Now the seat was too small to fit both of our butts. He was kind of wedged between the cantle of the saddle and my rear, not at all in a sexy kind of way.
I went into a high-pitched laugh, snorting, “Get off! Get off.”
Ty wasn’t any better composed. He was giggling like a girl. “I’m trying—lean forward.”
I leaned as far forward as I could. The horn was now also biting into my gut. Montana, feeling all the weird movement on his back, began to step sideways anxiously.
I felt Ty press his upper body against my back and manage to heave himself off the horse. Once on the ground, he smiled. “That worked out well.”
I nodded, “I thought so.” We both started laughing—like old times. It felt good and the hurt that had resurfaced earlier began to slink back into the part of my heart I kept under chain, lock, and key.
Ty calmed and said, “Dismount. I have an idea.” I complied and he untacked Montana. Bareback—brilliant.
Seconds later, we were straddling Montana’s back. As he walked forward, I felt the softness of equine back beneath me and the gentle sway of his footfalls.
Ty sat behind me. His thighs hugged mine and his chest leaned against my back. “Okay, before you start twirling your rope, let’s go over the wrist-arm action again.” He stretched his right arm along mine, placing his hand on top of mine. “Just relax and let me guide you.”
He spoke softly into my ear, somehow fogging my brain. His fingers wrapped around mine and he lifted my arm above my head, slowly circling it, demonstrating the proper wrist flick to guide the lasso. But my arm was on autopilot because my mind was focused solidly on the feel of his left hand and where it rested on my thigh.
“Pen?”
“What’d you say?”
“Let’s try it with the rope.”
“Oh, yeah.” I felt like a moron. My mind was short-circuiting. It must be a cosmic thing, this mix of his Wranglers and pearl snaps with my breeches and half chaps. Then, he moved his hand to my waist and sent a surge of celestial waves through my system.
I was trying to concentrate on the lasso circling above our heads—really, I was—but my mind had apparently forgotten my past with Ty and ignored the fact that he was not my type because it kept focusing on how it would feel if he’d drop the rope and wrap both of his arms around me.
Lasso. Must concentrate on the lasso.
As I pulled my imagination back from craziness, I zeroed in on the feel of the rope and the movements he was guiding me through. On Ty’s cue, we launched the noose. It sailed through the air, smacking the plastic calf head but not capturing it.
“Not bad. Try again on your own.”
He dropped his right arm and let his hand rest on my thigh.
I followed Ty’s directions, twirling and releasing the rope. A few times I actually hit the calf’s head. Ty cheered enthusiastically.
We continued to work on my technique and aim until I hit a dead ringer. We both went into a kind of spastic celebration. I hadn’t conquered the technique of popping the rope off the horns, though, so I handed it to Ty.
Effortlessly he loosened the snare, coiled the lasso, and tossed the rope to the ground. “Let’s take a break.” He nudged Montana forward and we cantered around the arena.
I held the reins, while he held onto me. I was sure he didn’t need to hang onto anything, but I wasn’t about to complain. We rocked with the horse as one, his chest and thighs encasing me, his hands splayed across my stomach holding me to him. My neurons were firing little explosions of tingly giddiness throughout my nervous system and it scared the hell out of me.
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