Waiting For Yes

by Claire Ashgrove

  As Mamoon slammed himself into the side of the stall and let out an ear-splitting whinny, Jake’s grin faded. His jaw tensed, his eyes narrowed. The breath he pulled in, the slow way his chest expanded, screamed silent anger.

  She turned away before he had the chance to spit out nasty remarks about her disappointing purchase. “Let me get Rajiv.”

  Not waiting for his answer, she hurried to her senior stallion’s stall and gave the horse a quick pat. In two quick motions, she had the halter on and the lead affixed beneath his chin. “C’mon, boy.” With a gentle tug, she ushered him into the aisle.

  Rajiv cocked his head sideways and pulled on the lead as they passed Mamoon’s stall. He let out a quiet squeal, a sound cut off by her quick tug on the lead. She redirected his attention, quickening her step. Not that she worried what Rajiv would do, so much as what Mamoon might do. One real good, meaningful kick to the stall door, and it would splinter. The last thing she wanted to deal with was a stallion fight in the middle of her barn.

  At his paddock, she gave Rajiv another affectionate pat on the shoulder and turned him loose before rushing back into the barn.

  Halfway down the aisle, she came to a standstill with her breath caught in her throat.

  Jake stood in front of Mamoon’s open stall door, lead rope neatly gathered in one hand. The other, he extended, his fingers outstretched. Mamoon raced in circles around his stall, his hooves connecting with each corner he encountered, the racket deafening.

  Without looking at her, Jake asked in a level voice, “Where’s he going?”

  “O-out here,” she stuttered, transfixed by the scene. He was so close, those dangerous hooves skimming the wall fractions away from his leg. No way could she let him tackle that beast again. She snatched up the whip as a precaution and took a hesitant step closer to the stall.

  Mamoon took one look at her, and his eyes widened at the same time his nostrils flared. In the next heartbeat, he pinned his ears flat against his head and lunged at the front of the stall.

  “Get back, damn it,” Jake barked.

  For the first time since morning, she didn’t think to object. Whatever Mamoon saw, whatever he sensed, that lunge was meant for her. He hadn’t even spared a sideways glance at Jake.

  She ducked behind Jake and flattened her back against the wall, safely out of Mamoon’s sight.

  “Easy, boy,” he murmured.

  Time suspended. Her anxious heartbeat filled her ears, muffling the anxious pawing in the nearby stall. Each heavy thump timed with a well-coordinated thud, a kick, a drawn-out snort. She bit down on her lower lip to stifle the questions that raced through her mind. What was happening? Was Mamoon settling? Had he turned his head to look at Jake? Were Jake’s words calming him down?

  Seconds turned to minutes while Jake stood unmoving. As if he had all day and intended to wait Mamoon out. At his side, he flexed and unflexed his hand, the only sign he wasn’t completely at ease with the situation.

  The cold filtered through her coat, sent a shiver down her spine. Yet, she didn’t wrap her arms around herself or huddle into her coat, for fear the sound, the motion, might trigger another panic.

  Jake took another step inside the stall and disappeared from sight. She held her breath. In moments, one of the two had to lose. Mamoon could either surrender or trample the man who refused to back down. Judging from this morning, the odds weren’t in Jake’s favor.

  “Gabrielle.” From inside the stall, Jake’s voice rang low. “Go open the gate. Hurry.”

  His instruction came with the measured precision of someone deliberately trying to keep calm. Lacking any sense of urgency, despite the issued command.

  She pushed off the wall and scurried past the stall. She wanted to look. Wanted to ask how he’d managed it. But she didn’t linger, didn’t waste the time with conversation. Clear of Mamoon’s sight, she raced to the paddock adjoining Rajiv’s.

  Behind her, the crunch of snow told her man and horse followed.

  At the open gate, she backed away and stared in awe as Jake led her stallion closer. Step by step, they crossed the drifts. Mamoon protested, tossing his head. Jake corrected, shaking the lead.

  Impossible.

  Yet, she stared at the reality.

  They passed beside her, close enough she could reach out and stroke Mamoon’s side. But the dark eye that watched her gleamed with mistrust, so she kept her hand firmly tucked inside her coat.

  Her lips parted in a soft gasp. Her horse hated her. She’d spent eight thousand dollars on a stallion who hated her, and she’d never had the chance to touch him.

  Another realization settled on her shoulders as she witnessed the beautiful stallion drop his head to allow Jake to slide the halter over his ears. He listened to Jake.

  Yet, as Jake turned to make his way back to her, Mamoon spun on his forehand. He lifted his hind to aim a deadly kick. Stumbling sideways, Jake narrowly avoided the hoof. He fell to the snow, leaning back as the stallion bolted past. A clump of powdery wetness pelted him in the face.

  “Son of a bitch,” Jake hissed. He picked himself up and dusted off his jeans. With a glower that could frighten the devil himself, he stomped out of the paddock, jerked the gate from her hands, and latched it. “That horse has to go, Gabby. Before he kills someone.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Jake didn’t dare look at Gabrielle. He didn’t care if he’d just pissed her off or not. Revulsion churned his stomach into a fierce knot, and he turned away from the paddock, unable to watch the stallion any longer. He’d had his hands all over the beast, and the entire time, all he could see was his mother lying in a pool of her own blood.

  When Mamoon charged his stall, his attention riveted on Gabrielle, Jake’s imagination replayed the scene he hadn’t witnessed. Mamoon flipping in the cross ties. His mother rushing forth to latch onto his halter to calm him. Mamoon’s hooves connecting with her temple, then smashing into her skull as he descended on her unconscious form.

  Gabrielle could be next. And by God, Jake had to talk some sense into her before then. That fucking horse was a liability she couldn’t afford.

  He shoved away from the fence, choking down the lump that rose in the back of his throat. With a little luck, the weather would break tonight. The plows could get to the roads. In the morning, he could call a tow truck and get his rig in for service. Two, three days, and he’d be free of this mess.

  Maybe he could convince Gabrielle to take a short tour of the road with him. But one thing was certain, he’d never come back to this farm. Not now, not after the memories rooted in here too.

  Jake stopped at the barn. One hand braced on the wide doorframe, he waited for Gabrielle to catch up. He ought to turn around, offer her his hand, help her over the steep banks that the sky piled even higher in the short time they’d been out here. But he couldn’t. If he touched her, if he looked into that beautiful face, he’d do something stupid. Like break down. He hadn’t done that when his barn manager, Manuel, brought him the tragic news. He damn sure wouldn’t do that in a strange woman’s arms. Even if her body did promise comfort, soft curves he could lose himself in and forget.

  When she slipped into the barn, he rolled the heavy sliding door shut. Still not looking at her, he started for the opposite end, and the exit. Clearing his throat, he shoved down the visions that ran rampant in his head. “You said the generator’s in the garage?”

  “Yes. I’ll show you.” She jogged up beside him and fit her hand in the crook of his elbow.

  Lord, that simple touch unwound something deep inside. She couldn’t possibly know how much he needed the unconscious act of affection. Right now, he felt more vulnerable, more exposed, than a stripper on a brightly-lit stage.

  “That was pretty impressive for a rookie.” She let out a light laugh. “Thank you.”

  Not impressive. Necessary. He’d never be able to look himself in the mirror if Gabrielle got hurt because he refused to touch the psychotic beast. Because he wanted her
to learn a lesson.

  Goddamn it all, he didn’t want her thanks. He wanted, no needed, her to see the reality of what she’d lugged home. That horse wasn’t a project worth saving. How many people had to pay the price before someone came to their senses and put the fucking creature down?

  Torn between frustration and hurt, he stopped short. Setting his hands on her shoulders, he spun her around and stared down into her eyes. The words hovered on the tip of his tongue, a plea he had no right to make as long as she thought him a simple trucker who happened to have horse experience years ago.

  But the confession was too much. He couldn’t tell her. Wasn’t ready to face those demons. Wouldn’t ever be.

  He got lost in her gaze, its shimmering brilliance a life raft he desperately needed. Wanting nothing more than to forget, than to escape the haunting memories he couldn’t seem to run far enough from, he crushed her to him and slanted his mouth across hers.

  Though by no means gentle, he kissed her thoroughly. Her sweet taste, a mixture of flavors that screamed woman and set his system on sensory overload, drew him in deeper. The playful tangle of her tongue, the warmth of her breath as it skated over his cheek, the way her fingers dug into his coat—everything he ached for. He wound an arm around her waist, slid the other into her hair, and held her in place, taking his fill.

  A little mewl of pleasure bubbled up in her throat as she rose to her toes. Her body melded into his, those soft curves promising safe harbor. Desire surged through his veins like wildfire. The barn faded, the stallion forgotten. She made him forget. This temperamental little redhead who embodied everything he’d never wanted, somehow managed to erase the hollow emptiness nothing else could fill.

  He dragged his mouth away and touched his forehead to hers. Her ragged breath matched his; twin puffs of white mist rose from their parted lips. He held her close and closed his eyes as he inhaled her flowery shampoo.

  After several moments of silence, her shiver broke through his clouded mind. He pulled back, holding her at arms length. “I’ll fiddle around in the garage. You go inside. You’re cold.”

  The time alone would do him good. Though he could easily cart her back into her home, peel off her clothes, and turn the afternoon into a sexual paradise, right now he needed a clear head. Losing himself in Gabrielle would only end in disaster.

  He watched her throat work as she swallowed. Her eyes shone bright with arousal, but she dipped her head in a brief nod and shrugged out of his grasp.

  At the doorway, he stopped to dust a chaste kiss over her cheek before trudging off in the opposite direction, heading for the detached garage. “Hey!” he shouted as he reached the small, walk-through door.

  She stopped on her back porch and looked his way.

  “Did you get cables and all the electrical stuff when you bought this thing?”

  Her laughter danced like the light snowflakes tumbling from the sky. She belted out, “Jonas did all the electrical last year! He had to go for dinner, and I never asked him to finish. The directions should be out there in the box.”

  Well, hell, that made things far easier. Setting up this thing ought to be a walk in the park if all he had to do was connect a few wires to a breaker box. The afternoon suddenly looked a whole lot brighter.

  ****

  Safe inside, and well out of Jake’s sight, Gabrielle braced her hands on the kitchen counter and sucked in a shaky breath. Wow. Where had that kiss come from? For a moment, she’d been so lightheaded she’d thought she might faint. But Jake’s arms had been there, holding her up, supporting her from a fall.

  That kind of kissing could only mean trouble. While he might have prevented her from physically sinking to the ground, she’d stepped off an emotional ledge somewhere out in her barn. She liked him. Really liked him. Not just the chemistry, even though that was astounding. In one unanticipated embrace, the passion they’d shared last night slid beneath her thin protective shell and rooted in deep.

  Good Lord, she really liked a trucker. A renegade giggle threatened, then burst free. Oh, that would send Daddy into fits. What would he do if this involvement with Jake went somewhere? She could just see her father’s face when she introduced him to Jake and explained what Jake did for a living. He’d turn crimson, he’d be so angry.

  Oh, hell, what was she thinking? She’d hardly known Jake twenty-four hours. Thinking of a future bordered on ridiculous, if not stupid. The guy probably didn’t consider this as anything other than passing fun while he was stuck in a blizzard. He’d implied as much this afternoon when he’d wandered into her bedroom.

  Getting attached to him would only lead to heartache. Truckers loved the freedom of the road. He’d never be the kind of man to want to settle for farm life. And she certainly wasn’t the kind of woman who’d ever be happy with her man gone for long periods of time. She knew herself well enough to understand she needed more attention than that lifestyle could provide.

  This would run its course. Short- or long-term, the fire they shared would eventually burn out, and they’d go their separate ways—he on the road, she with her horses. No sense looking at it any differently.

  That’s what Margie would tell her, at least. And Margie would be right. Problem was, she’d already made the mistake of letting down her guard. Jake was in there, in her system somewhere, running amok and causing all sorts of havoc. She could only hope the aftermath wouldn’t be too destructive.

  Lifting her gaze to the window, she stared at the snowy landscape. The precipitation had died, the flakes now little more than a spit. Another day or two, and the county would clear the roads if the temperatures didn’t rise and melt everything first. Then, Jake would leave. She refused to fool herself into thinking he might stay while his truck was repaired. The nearest garage capable of the work was in Hays. He’d want to be there, ready to go when they finished, so his cargo would reach its intended destination.

  And he probably wouldn’t come back through as he’d talked about initially.

  But in the meantime, whatever time she had with him, she intended to enjoy thoroughly. Maybe this would be the great love affair she told her grandchildren about, the one she never forgot despite the fact she’d learned to love and married someone else.

  A shiver snaked down her spine, reminding her of her wet clothes. Before she caught cold, she needed to change. She’d love a hot bath, would even settle for a hot cup of coffee. But until Jake fixed the generator, she’d have to live without.

  He’d want dry clothes too, she realized as she passed the dark bathroom and glimpsed the outline of his jeans hanging on the towel rack. She wandered inside and fingered the denim, checking to see if they’d dried yet. A little stiff, but definitely not wet.

  She grabbed them off the rack, along with his T-shirt, and carried them into her bedroom. Maybe if she stuffed them under all the covers on her bed, she could warm them up a bit.

  Beep-beep. “Gabrielle?”

  Oh, damn, Margie again.

  Gabrielle stuffed Jake’s clothes under her covers and yanked on a pair of clean, comfortable sweats. Tugging a navy blue sweatshirt over her head, she hurried down the hall to the study and grabbed the walkie talkie.

  “I’m here.”

  “What in the world have you been doing over there all afternoon? It’s almost two.”

  It was? Gabrielle blinked. Time hadn’t passed that quickly since she’d been a kid at Disneyland. No wonder her stomach was all balled into knots. She hadn’t eaten anything all morning.

  “Hauling hay and letting the horses out.”

  “That should have taken an hour, max.”

  Well, it should have, yes. But Mamoon complicated things, and then she’d had Jake distracting her, slowing her down from her normal, speedy morning feed.

  “The new horse isn’t settling in well.”

  “Oh?” Margie’s voice held a touch of concern.

  “Yeah, he’s been a real pistol. You should see what he did to my trailer. He’s…got…issues.
”

  “Issues how?”

  Gabrielle chewed on her lower lip. Margie had cautioned her Mamoon seemed like too good a deal. With his show record in his early days, and the bloodlines, he should have been double what she’d paid. “Let’s just say I got what I—”

  “Gabby?” Jake’s voice drifted down the hall.

  Oh, shit.

  “Who’s that?” Margie asked.

  With her finger hovering over the button, Gabrielle weighed her response. Margie knew everyone in town. She’d know damn good and well Jonas couldn’t get over here. His property bordered hers on the opposite side.

  “Hey, sugar,” Jake crooned from the doorway. “I need a pair of box cutters or a knife or something. I left mine in my truck.”

  “Gabrielle?” Margie’s voice took on increasing anxiety, rising in pitch.

  Gabrielle gave Jake a nervous smile. “In the kitchen drawer, under the microwave.”

  His gaze pulled to the black receiver in her hand, and he lifted a solitary eyebrow.

  Heat crept into her cheeks. Damn, damn, damn!

  “Gabrielle, answer me before I walk over there and pound down your door. You’re acting awfully strange.”

  “Better answer her, sugar.” Jake tossed her a wink before he wandered back the way he came.

  She depressed the button. “I’m here. I have company.”

  “I gathered that.” Exasperation fringed Margie’s words. “Who is it?”

  “Um.” Gabrielle let go of the button and let out a defeated sigh. Knowing Margie, if she didn’t hear exactly what she wanted to know, she would plow through the snow to get answers. “I helped someone out when the roads got bad and his truck—”

  “I’ll have this done in a little bit. Hot shower sounds good, don’t you think?” Jake called just before the back door shut.

  “Hot showers? Gabrielle, start talking now.”

  Taking a deep, fortifying breath, Gabrielle summoned her courage. “He’s a trucker. I met him on the road. His rig broke down on the highway, and I’m letting him stay until he gets it repaired. His name is Jake, and he’s…Margie, he’s incredible.”