Waiting For Yes

by Claire Ashgrove

  Had it been him, he’d have turned his rig around and taken the horse right back to the seller. She had to have a bleeding heart in there somewhere. “Why didn’t you return him?”

  Her blush deepened, the stain in her cheeks almost identical to the deep red of her hair. “I was stupid enough to pay in cash.”

  He gave her a dubious look. Cash or no cash, she could have demanded the sellers return her money.

  “Oh, c’mon, Jake.” Gabrielle sighed. “They lied to me through the sale. Their references were obviously staged. They drugged the horse. Do you really think they’d take him back? They knew exactly what they were doing.”

  She had a point. He declined to comment and took a deep drink of coffee. He’d have left the beast in their driveway, refund or no refund. But he’d also been accused of having no heart when it came to horses. Of being so business-minded, he was cold and unfeeling. Besides, maybe she couldn’t afford the financial loss.

  “You talk like you know horses.”

  Oh, shit. She wasn’t supposed to pick up on that. He’d spent the last three years trying to forget everything he knew about horses. With a casual shrug, he answered, “Texas has lots of horses. I worked with a few when I was younger.”

  “Worked with how?”

  The waitress arrived again, her hands laden with their food. Jake shifted, making room for her to set his plate down and gave her a smile of thanks, accompanied by a brief dip of his head.

  “Anything else?” the waitress asked.

  Jake looked to Gabrielle.

  She shook her head.

  “No thank you, ma’am.” He unrolled his silverware, set his napkin in his lap, and stabbed his fork into the mashed potatoes. “So, what are you doing with this horse now?”

  Gabrielle swallowed her mouthful and licked a bead of cheese from her lips.

  Jake’s pulse tripped. The flick of her tongue struck powerful chords. She’d tasted so sweet. That tongue had glided like velvet.

  “Well, I’d planned to use him as the foundation stallion for my breeding program. The plan was get him trained, get him to Scottsdale next month and win big, then cross him with some nice mares and get his babies recognized.” She added in a quieter voice, “I can’t very well do any of that with a psychotic stallion.”

  The word Scottsdale set off alarm bells in his head. Screaming, angry, deafening alarm bells. His bite of food went down rough, scraping and sticking in his closing throat.

  He chugged down the last half of his coffee. “He’s an Arabian?”

  Gabrielle blinked. “How’d you know?”

  Pretending at a casual air, he gestured at her with his fork. “The whole Scottsdale thing. That’s the biggest show for Arabians, isn’t it?”

  “One of the best for breeders.” She laughed softly. “Yeah, he’s an Arab. I know, you country boys think they’re crazy. My story probably doesn’t surprise you.”

  Arabians weren’t crazy. Jake had more than enough experience with the breed to vouch for that. But no, her story didn’t surprise him at all. A chill wavered down his spine. He wished it didn’t sound so damnably familiar.

  Seeking to change the subject before it drifted into territory he wouldn’t touch with a ten-foot pole, he asked, “Did you grow up in Ransom?”

  Gabrielle shook her head. “I grew up in a small town in southern Arizona. Queen Creek. My parents raised Polish Arabians for years. I wanted to do Egyptians, and I wanted to live away from home.” She grinned. “Land’s cheap in Kansas.”

  The light in her eyes didn’t match the humor her mouth tried to achieve. In those pretty depths, a flash of pain flickered. There was more to her story. Children from successful stud farms didn’t run hundreds of miles away to start their own without good reason.

  They might run away. Like he had. But they didn’t turn away from prestigious client lists, acclaimed trainers, and the politics of affluence. However, like himself, she didn’t intend to share her past with a total stranger.

  Gabrielle’s gaze drifted to the window. He looked as well, noting the heavy buildup of snow in the corners of the thick glass panes. Outside, beyond the diner’s lights and the fuel pump’s canopy, a thick layer blanketed the asphalt.

  She pushed her plate aside, her meal half-finished. “Ugh, I don’t want to drive in that. I better get started back. I really enjoyed meeting you.”

  He almost choked on his chicken fried steak. She couldn’t leave yet. He didn’t have her number—didn’t even know how to ask for it. Colorado wasn’t on his list of usual routes. God only knew when he might make it back out this way.

  Still, he wasn’t ready to part ways. Not yet. Not until he made her receptive to another one of those amazing kisses.

  “Take your time, finish your meal. I’ll give you a set of taillights to follow, if you want. I haul through Maine regularly. The snow doesn’t bother me.”

  She nibbled on her lower lip, and the pleasant tingle returned to his gut, turning it over. The empty space in his jeans stretched tight as his cock responded all too powerfully to the nervous gesture.

  When she didn’t immediately answer, he reached across the table and covered her tiny hand with his. Unexplainably, he was desperate for her to stay. He lowered his voice a fraction. “I won’t let anything happen to you out there, Gabby. Don’t leave yet?”

  Chapter Three

  Gabrielle cringed at Jake’s use of the nickname she despised. But rasp of his calloused hand sent such a thrill shooting up her arm, her usual sharp correction died in the back of her throat. Resisting the instinctive urge to flip her hand over and lace her fingers through his, she summoned a hesitant smile. “Ransom is a couple hours out of your way. There’s no straight route to Colorado from there.”

  Jake shook his head. “It’s no trouble.”

  He rubbed the pad of his thumb against her wrist, and her pulse quickened. Good grief. How was a girl supposed to think when one touch sent her thoughts spiraling to visions of Jake naked? Of Jake kissing her. Of Jake doing a heck of a lot more with that mouth than just kissing.

  Her cheeks heated, and she lowered her gaze. This was insane. They came from two different worlds. He was a trucker; her family had millions. He was a stranger for God’s sake. Not that she hadn’t experienced the draw of being around a sexy man, but entertaining thoughts of going to bed with them usually came after more than a forty-five-minute dinner at a truck stop.

  Her gaze skimmed across his broad shoulders, noting strength beneath the dark fabric. Nothing about him was small. Doorframe-wide shoulders, large hands, a giant’s height that made her feel strangely overwhelmed and delightfully feminine.

  What would he do if she asked for another kiss before they hit the road? She frowned at the passing thought. Probably be all too willing to take her up on it, and promptly forget her the moment he returned to the open road. Who was she fooling? Men like Jake didn’t fall for short redheads who could only be classified as horse crazy. They liked elegant. Classy. Sexy. All traits she couldn’t begin to claim. While she could hold her own in the circle of wealthy elite her family moved through, she felt far more at home in a pair of worn jeans and comfortable old sweatshirts. Like her present attire. Heck, her sleeve had a small hole near the elbow. Elegant and classy didn’t run around in holey clothing.

  He lifted his eyebrows, and she realized she hadn’t answered. “Um.” She faltered, her thoughts fleeing as he brushed that damnable thumb over her wrist once more.

  One corner of his mouth pulled up in a smirk. “I’m waiting for yes…”

  Her throat loosened, and a chuckle slipped free. “That’s the theme tonight, isn’t it?”

  “Sure sounds like it.”

  Taking a deep breath, Gabrielle searched for courage. She could do this. It wasn’t as if he’d asked her to stay the night. A pair of taillights to follow through the thickening snow would be nice. With his experience, he’d guide her through any rough spots, and she could take comfort in knowing she wasn’t bravi
ng the weather alone.

  With a decisive nod, she answered, “Never call me Gabby again, and I’ll stay a little longer.”

  “Not fond of that, huh?” His grin broadened, revealing a neat row of pearly teeth.

  Low and husky, his chuckle set off tiny sparks of pleasure in her belly. Good Lord, she could almost hear the way he’d murmur his pleasure when he took a woman to bed. Whispers like that would crumble her to pieces if her body’s present reaction was any indication.

  What the hell was she thinking? That wouldn’t happen. Under no circumstances would she crawl between the sheets with a total stranger whose last name she didn’t even know.

  “No, I hate it.”

  In search of freedom from the errant wanderings of her mind, she tore her gaze off his captivating blue eyes and scanned the restaurant for their waitress. The graying brunette leaned on her elbows near the cash register, gazing out at the sparse patronage. Gabrielle lifted a hand.

  In an instant, the waitress stood at her side. “Yes, miss?”

  “May I have another cup of coffee, please?”

  The waitress smacked her gum. “Sure thing. I’ll bring you a carafe.” With a wink, the woman bustled off and disappeared behind the silver door once more.

  Jake’s hand tightened around Gabrielle’s. She pulled in a deep breath, intent on ignoring the warmth that soaked into her skin. His eyes sparked with mirth.

  A grin tugged at his mouth. “It’s not usually a good thing to tell me things that annoy you.”

  “No?”

  “I tend to do them more often.”

  Gabrielle frowned. “I don’t think you understand, Jake. I’ve always been Gabrielle. I don’t want to be Gabby. It reminds me of a yappy poodle. Besides, I don’t talk enough to be a Gabby.”

  “All the more reason the nickname fits you. We don’t always get what we want.” The corner of his eyes crinkled more deeply as he stuffed another forkful of potatoes into his mouth.

  Inwardly, she simmered. No one called her Gabby. If he thought she’d let him get away with it, he’d better think twice. She tried a more firm approach, gritting out between clenched teeth, “I’d like you to not use it.”

  “Easy there, sugar. It’s a joke.”

  Mortification flushed her face with heat. Cripes, she hardly knew the man, and she was already disagreeing with him. This wasn’t a good idea. She should leave now. Drive home on her own. Before she lodged her foot so firmly in her mouth she couldn’t speak around it. She’d like to walk away from tonight as something other than a fool.

  “You know what I think?” he asked as the waitress set down a white carafe. He acknowledged her service with a brief nod, then looked back to Gabrielle.

  “What do you think?”

  “I think the name’s damn cute, and I think it fits those tiny freckles across the bridge of your nose. But if you hate it that much…” He trailed off with a nonchalant lift of his shoulders.

  “I do.”

  “In that case, Gabrielle, tell me more about you. Do you have a job other than your farm?”

  Relieved to be free from the distasteful subject of the disturbing nickname, Gabrielle relaxed and leaned back in her seat. “No. I exercise the horses during the day. Lately, I’ve been spending a good portion of my day on the phone looking for a full time trainer.”

  To her complete surprise, her answer had Jake squinting at her through a deep scowl. She blinked. Where’d that come from? “What did I say?”

  ****

  Jake forced his facial muscles to relax. There was no way in hell Gabrielle could possibly know who he was or what drove him from Houston three years ago. Her remark about needing a trainer was casual conversation, not an attempt to convince him back into the world of Arabian horses. He’d taken care to not tell her his last name. Even if he had, Sullivan wouldn’t reveal his past without a little further digging. He’d shortened it. Dropped his mother’s hyphenated name down to the solitary initial, L. Lindsey-Sullivan, she’d place in a heartbeat.

  He pulled in a deep breath and summoned a smile. “Nothing,” he answered with a slight shake of his head. “If you’re looking for a trainer for that stallion, you’d better offer full disclosure.”

  “Oh, don’t worry, I intend to. It wouldn’t be fair to do anything else.” She furrowed her brows. “I’m not that kind of girl.”

  “Good then.” He looked down at his coffee mug and let out a sigh. “I knew someone once who got into a situation like that. The owner didn’t tell her the truth about the horse, and she was too kind-hearted to condemn the beast.”

  Gabrielle’s gaze held interest. “Oh?”

  He gave her a slow nod. “The horse killed her.”

  With a wince, she fell silent, joining him in studying the contents of her coffee cup. After a few moments of heavy silence, she lifted her gaze to his and offered him a sympathetic smile. “That’s not all that uncommon. A few years ago, one of the biggest names in Arabian horses died similarly too. I don’t know the details—you know how the rumor mill works—but I heard she brought him out of the stall like she did every day, and he just flipped out in the barn. Nailed her in the head and then trampled her.”

  Jake’s gut churned uncomfortably. Damn, she knew too much. Although her story wasn’t a hundred percent accurate, vivid pictures sprung to life in his mind. His mother’s limp body lying in the barn aisle, the psychotic stallion grazing contentedly behind the stable as blood pooled beneath his mother’s blonde hair—everything flashed in front of his eyes as if it had happened yesterday, not three years ago. He’d done everything he could to forget that nightmare, to escape the guilt that haunted him over his refusal to assist her. Now, as he sat across from a woman who enchanted him far more than anyone he could remember, she brought the nightmare right back to the forefront of his mind.

  And she was as infatuated with Arabian horses as his mother had been.

  He should leave now. Use his struggling transmission as an excuse to get far away from this redheaded woman with eyes that made him feel like a drowning man. Only…he couldn’t. Like the damned horses, she drew him in.

  He pushed his plate aside and glanced at the coffee carafe. “You gonna drink all that?”

  Light and airy, her laugh blanketed him. “If I did, I’d have to pull over every ten miles.”

  “Want to head out then?”

  Gabrielle tossed her napkin on the table and reached for the small black tray holding their bill.

  Jake dropped a hand over hers and pinned it to the table. With the other, he snatched up the receipt. “No you don’t. It’s mine.”

  Eyes wide, she gaped. “But we had a deal,” she spluttered.

  Unable to hold back a chuckle, he shook his head. “If you think I’m going to let a lady pay for my meal, think again, sugar.” Giving her a wink, he grinned. “I only agreed so you’d stay longer.”

  She pursed her lips, looking for all intents and purposes like he might have just pissed her off. But as he lifted his gaze from her hard mouth to her eyes, the light dancing there told him her anger was false.

  Somehow, that didn’t entirely surprise him. Women who grew up on lavish horse farms didn’t pick up their dates’ tabs.

  As he fished his wallet out of his back pocket, she stood up. “I’m going to use the ladies’ room.”

  “I’ll meet you by the door.”

  That would give him enough time away from her to get his head on straight. Gabrielle was trouble. With a capital T. The last thing he needed was to let his dick lead him down this path. Yeah, he’d gone a long while without a woman, and, yeah, this one had curves that could make a man weak, but pursuing her wouldn’t be worth the effort. At most, all they could enjoy would be a few casual romps in the sheets.

  Not that he was entirely opposed to that. Still, he suspected she wasn’t the kind of gal interested in a casual tumble.

  He slid from the booth, made his way to the register, and handed their waitress double twenties. “Keep
it,” he called as he headed for the front doors.

  Trouble with a capital T. The best thing he could do was thank Gabrielle for the company over coffee and lead her down the highway. They didn’t even have to converse. Smart, easy—forget her before he ever really knew her.

  The bathroom door swung open. She stepped into the hall, all jeans-clad legs, a waist his hands could fit around without effort, and red hair that tumbled down a slender back. She lifted her head, tucked a stray red lock behind her ear. Her gaze settled on him, and a slow smile drifted over her sensual mouth. Lips he recalled all too disturbingly as soft.

  Deep inside, something unwound. A flicker of instantaneous desire sparked in his gut. He wanted to sample that mouth again, explore it until he could remember her sweet taste in his dreams. Discover how it would feel against his skin.

  God, she was beautiful.

  Yeah, he needed to get far away from her. Fast. Good sense demanded nothing less.

  Chapter Four

  Jake’s hand fit into the small of Gabrielle’s back, snug and warm. As if it belonged there. His strong fingers guided with gentle pressure, navigating her across the parking lot and closer to her truck. Snowfall kept them from talking, the biting wind gusts and icy particles forcing them to keep their chins tucked low. She held her keys at the ready, her thumb hovering over the auto-unlock.

  When they got close enough, she pressed the button. The lights flashed. Her horn beeped once.

  The stallion, however, exploded. His whinny cut through the hum of engines and the roaring wind. A hollow, tinny thud shook the trailer.

  Gabrielle groaned.

  Another set of hoof prints. Damn it. If she had any guts at all, she’d send that horse’s seller the body shop’s bill. By the time she got to Ransom, she’d be lucky if the beast hadn’t drilled a hole in the side.

  “I think that pissed him off,” Jake observed. He reached across his body with his other arm and wrapped his hand around hers. His fingers tugged at her keys.