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Short Stories


I'm very excited to announce my newest published short story...

"The Heart and Cement of Texas"

as featured in

This personal story recounts the most romantic, and the most unconventional, Valentine's Day gifts I ever received. Can you guess what they were from the title? If you are ever in the Denver area and feel like going on a little scavenger hunt, you can actually see one of them (or should I say THREE of them?!?) at the Chili's restaurant on the northeast corner of Parker and Arapahoe Roads in Aurora, Colorado. Happy hunting!


Read on to view the first thing I ever had published--my short story "Jump for Joyce." This story debuted in the Winter, 1999 premier issue of World of Romance magazine. It was reprinted in the October, 2000 issue of Rhapsody Magazine, and was inspired by my passion for horses and the excitement of being in the horse show spotlight.

Jump For Joyce
by Barbara Zukowski

"He sure is handsome."

Gently stroking the horse’s soft muzzle as she spoke, Joyce Malloy directed her praise for the stallion to the man perched on his back, whose face was shadowed by the brim of a black velvet riding helmet.

A sudden swoosh of steamy, snorting horse breath ruffled her light brown curls as it sliced through the cool, spring air.

"You’d probably be better off not touching my horse," a deep-throated voice cautioned her. "Glory gets pretty jazzed before a jumping competition, and I wouldn’t want him snapping at those dainty fingers of yours."

"Oh." Jerking the offending hand from the horse’s nose, she tucked it into the back pocket of her jeans for safe-keeping. "Thanks for the warning."

Shading her eyes against the glare of the sun, she stared at her guardian angel more closely. An eyebrow arched. Now she wasn’t sure which animal was more magnificent. The dappled gray, four-legged one restlessly pawing at the ground, or the drop-dead gorgeous, two-legged variety astride his back.

A satisfied smile curved her lips. This horse show was fast turning into the best diversion she’d ever come up with for an otherwise too-quiet Saturday afternoon at her college dorm.

"I haven’t been around horses much," she muttered in way of explanation for her behavior, not wanting to seem reckless to this man with the most compelling blue eyes she’d ever seen.

"It’s okay," Glory’s rider said, adjusting his reins to keep the prancing stallion in check. "Wouldn’t want to see you get hurt, that’s all."

She nodded, warmed by his consideration for her safety. "I appreciate that." Turning to leave, but not wanting to, she spun back around at the merest hint of his voice.

"This your first horse show?" he asked.

"Uh huh," she admitted, suddenly wishing she knew more about the equestrian world.

His world.

"Guess I’ve always had a ‘thing’ for horses," she explained, shrugging her shoulders. And right about now she regretted more than ever not having gotten a chance to ride one of the big yet gentle creatures. Wild and independant, but mostly wanting to please, they reminded her of the man of her dreams.

Men. She sighed. She’d always had a "thing" for them, too, she supposed, her heart beating faster than normal. And didn’t this one look especially fine with his bright red hunt coat stretched across broad shoulders, muscled thighs poured into immaculate white breeches, and lower legs encased in shiny black riding boots.

Out of habit, she took a quick moment to go over her "Pre-Flight To Land A Man" checklist.

No wedding ring.

Check.

No tell-tale circle of white skin around his otherwise evenly-tanned wedding ring finger.

Check.

Tall, dark, and handsome.

Check. Check. Double check.

Her eyes closed as she breathed in the sharp smell of polished boot leather.

And sweating horse.

Crinkling her nose she gave Mr. Ready-For-Takeoff a worried frown. "He’s very nervous, you know," she said, catching herself before reaching out to soothe the anxious horse. "Why are you so nervous, Glory?"

Instinctively scanning the area for signs of danger, her attention was captured by the colorful assortment of fences in the riding arena to her left.

"Oh my gosh, those jumps are huge!" she said, staring at them in open-mouthed awe.

Spinning around, she pressed her cheek against the horse’s face without a care for her own well-being. "You have to jump over those? Well, my goodness. I’d be a nervous wreck, too, if I had to jump over that." Forgetting herself even more, she stroked his neck. "Poor baby, poor baby," she chanted, hoping to comfort him with her touch and voice.

Glory’s rider leaned on the crest of the stallion’s neck until his face was disturbingly close to hers. "Listen," he said stiffly. "You’re going to throw him off his game if you keep messing around with his head like that."

Setting her mouth in a tight line, she matched his determined stare. "But just look at how frightened he is."

Mr. Tall, Dark and Suddenly Insensitive seemed to be struggling to maintain his patience. "He’s not scared, he’s just excited." He straightened. "I’ve trained him to jump big fences. It’s his job."

She squared her own shoulders. "And is it your job to treat him like a robot instead of the living, feeling creature that he is?"

That must have struck a nerve, for he winced at her accusing words.

For an instant, the bustling crowd of horse show spectators and participants seemed to stand still, and the blaring of the announcer’s voice, the clip-clop of horse’s hoofs, sounded oddly muffled to Joyce’s ears.

Now it was her turn to scrunch up her face. "I’m sorry." She groaned and shook her head. "It’s not my place to tell you how to ride your horse. Why, you don’t even know me from Adam."

With eyebrows furrowed he held out his right hand, which caused her to flinch until she realized he meant her to shake it.

"My name is Damian," he said simply. "And you are..."

Still on her guard, she nevertheless reached for the hand he offered. "Joyce Malloy," she croaked. The contact of palm to palm, skin to skin felt very powerful, like a pair of magnets getting way too close.

"Well, Joyce, you make a valid point."

Her eyes opened wide with surprise. "I do?"

When he withdrew his hand from hers, she was left with an unsettling sense of disappointment.

Reaching into the pocket of his hunt coat, he pulled out a pair of black riding gloves. "Did you know that horses are the only animals that participate right along with humans in competitive sports? Like as a team?" He painstakingly worked the skin-tight gloves over his fingers.

"That must feel pretty special." She was getting awfully hot all of a sudden.

"Yes. It does." He paused, as if absorbed in his thoughts. "I had forgotten..." Patting his jumping partner’s long, muscle-hard neck, he spoke quietly. "Is Joyce right, boy? Are you nervous?"

She watched, entranced by the movement of his hand, and imagined him stroking something else - like her neck, for instance.

"Don’t be nervous, boy," he went on. "I’ll take good care of you. Just like I know you’ll be watching out for me."

He tapped lightly on the horse’s rump, and she thought about that for a moment, too, her breathing quickening into tiny gasps for air.

"Whew." Her lips formed a circle as she exhaled the word, fanning her heated face with an unsteady hand.

He looked at her and frowned. "Your face is all red," he said, the concerned look in his eyes making her even more light-headed. "There’s a water cooler under the tent behind you if you need a drink."

"Good idea." She smiled weakly. "Thanks."

It was an effort to walk nonchalantly, let alone walk at all. But she managed to collect the water - a paper cupful for herself and an extra one for him, just in case - and got back as the announcer bellowed over the loud speakers. "Our last horse and rider team to enter our show jumping ring will be Damian Harding and his ten-year-old thoroughbred, Bound To Glory."

Joyce looked up in time to see him reach for her. His gloved hand, covered in buttery-soft leather, gently touched her cheek.

"A kiss for luck?" His face swept down to meet hers.

The kiss was lightening quick, a fleeting combination of musky smells and earthy tastes. A tiny moan left her throat.

Straightening in the saddle, Damian gave her a quick smile and patted Glory’s neck one last time before they jogged into the riding arena. Urging his horse into a lively canter, the elegant pair flawlessly soared over jump after jump. What seemed like an eternal ninety-one seconds later, it was over.

They had won the competition.

Still holding the hand-numbing cups of ice water, Joyce shifted her weight from foot to foot, barely able to stand her excitement. The beautiful images of Damian and Glory bounding over those huge jumps were still fresh in her mind.

Along with his kiss.

Her pulse quickened at the memory of his kiss. And now she couldn’t wait to congratulate him on his victory.

Applause from appreciative spectators followed horse and rider as they exited the ring. Right before reaching her they were suddenly surrounded by well-wishers, and she found herself jostled to the outside of the gathering, spilling most of her water in the process.

Damian smoothly swung down from his horse. A petite, pretty teenager at the front of the crowd threw herself into his arms.

Joyce dropped her cup of water.

He gave the girl a big hug, then brushed a kiss across the top of her head.

Joyce crushed HIS cup of water.

She continued to watch, her stomach churning. He shook hands with a silver-haired gentleman, handed him the reins to his horse, then politely waved to the crowd. Looking over their bobbing heads, his face lit up when he spotted her.

"Thank God you’re still here," he said, reaching her in several long, easy strides. "Glory and I won the class. You brought us good luck." He grabbed her by the shoulders and kissed her again.

Busy boy.

But this time his kiss was slower. Deeper. A girl could get lost in a kiss like that, and Joyce had to force herself to push him away.

"Do you make it a habit to kiss whatever female happens to be in front of you at any given moment?" she accused, erasing the lingering sensation of his firm lips from her mouth with the back of her hand and pulling a much needed gulp of oxygen into her lungs.

"What do you mean?" he asked, brows creased. Following her gaze to the crowd still gathered around his horse, he nodded his understanding. "Come with me."

Despite her protests, he grabbed her wrist and dragged her over to the older gentleman first.

"Dad," he said. "This is Joyce."

Why did her pulse have to race like that when he spoke her name?

She forced a gracious smile. "Nice to meet you, sir," she said, wiping her moist palm on the seat of her jeans before shaking his father’s outstretched hand. Through clenched teeth she added, "Your son is a wonderful rider."

The elderly man beamed with pride. "Well, thank you, little lady. And he’s done a fine job of teaching what he knows to my younger daughter, too."

Joyce had been following the excited teenager’s movements out of the corner of her eye, but gave the girl her full attention when the older Mr. Harding suddenly reached for her and pulled her affectionately against his side.

Her mouth flew open. "You mean...?"

Glancing at Damian, she saw him nod in answer to her unfinished question. "Joyce. This is my sister, Jessie."

She bit her lip to disguise her embarrassment as she shook Jessie’s hand.

Having the good manners to ignore her discomfort, Damian went on speaking. "Joyce reminded me how lucky I am to have such a faithful teammate to compete with."

Closing the distance between them until he faced only her, his family silently backed away.

Hands on his waist, he shifted his weight from one hip to the other before locking his gaze onto hers. "We jumped for you today, Joyce."

Her stomach felt like a twisted pretzel, and she could do nothing but stare as he slowly peeled off his gloves. "You know, sometimes I get so wrapped up in the business of show jumping, I forget why I’m doing it in the first place."

Stuffing the gloves into his pocket, he swallowed hard. "But when Glory and I took those jumps today..."

"It was like two bodies moving as one," she finished for him, remembering the sight of them arcing over fence after colorful fence. She lowered her eyelids and took in a deep breath before reopening them. "It was magic."

Damian took her face in his hands. "You’re the one who’s magic," he said, his smile warming her heart. "I haven’t let myself feel that connected to another living soul in quite a while, and it’s all because of you."

He placed her hand in his. "How can I thank you for that?"

She didn’t even have to think about it. "Can I ride your horse?" she asked, returning his enthusiastic smile.

His head jerked back. Obviously stunned at her request, he paused before answering. "Well, sure," he finally drawled, and shrugged. "Why not?"

As she watched him march over to his father to reclaim Glory, a sense of pure delight flooded through her. She had helped this man to a stronger awareness of his partnership with his horse, and he was grateful.

To her.

"My groom has already removed the saddle," Damian casually pointed out as he led Glory back to where she stood waiting, "so we’ll have to ride bareback."

"Bareback?" Panic made her mouth go dry. Easy enough for him to say, but didn’t he realize that she had never ridden before? "Is that safe?"

He flashed her a reassuring smile. "It is, as long as you’re with me."

Before she had a chance to object he’d hoisted her onto Glory’s back, and easily swung himself into position behind her. Her skin tingled when he encircled her with his strong arms, as much from the feel of his body next to hers as from her fear, she suspected.

"Just relax, Joyce," he whispered in her ear. "I’m right here."

"Okay," she squeaked, gradually allowing her back to rest into the curve of his chest as he showed her how to hold the reins, and reveled in how right it felt to be this close to him.

She snuggled a bit deeper into his arms. "I think I’m ready to go for that ride now."

Comfortable and content as Damian nudged Glory into a slow walk, she lifted her face into the warmth of the sun. "Ladies and gentlemen, fasten your seat belts," she proudly announced.

This little lady’s coming in for a landing.

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