Waiting For Yes

by Claire Ashgrove

  Now, the distance that spanned between him and Gabrielle felt like a hellish chasm. She deserved to know why. He’d practically agreed they were in some sort of exclusive relationship. For that reason alone, he had an obligation to give her more than his curt, dismissive, “No.”

  Yet, he couldn’t. Inevitably, the light that always glowed in her eyes when she looked at him would dim once she realized could have prevented his mother’s death and hadn’t. He couldn’t tolerate that. Gabrielle believed in him right now. Trusted him to some degree. He couldn’t disappoint her. Better she think him a calloused asshole and form her own reasons why he’d refused.

  Straightening, he stiffened his shoulders. “I think I’ll go check the generator’s gasoline.”

  When he turned around, the living room was empty.

  Chapter Twenty

  An hour later, Gabrielle looked up from her book as the back door thumped closed. She folded a corner down, noting she’d only managed to read one full page since Jake had left the house. Pathetic. One passing snowplow had reduced her to a worried mess and ruined her ability to think about anything but Jake’s eventual leaving.

  He’d grown so distant after she asked about his staying on. And his brusque mannerisms left her at a loss for words. The only thing she could do was to ask why, but he’d made it clear he had no intention of explaining.

  She let out a sigh and dropped her head on the headboard, her eyes closed. Nothing had gone right today, in any way, shape, or form. This distance couldn’t be healthy. The arguments had to portend disaster. No normal couple went through this kind of crap so early in a relationship. Then again, no normal couple started dating in the middle of a blizzard and had to live together within hours of meeting.

  Maybe if she sucked up her wounded pride and asked him to come to bed, they could put today behind them and start over. Right, she argued with herself. Do that, and he’d lose all respect for her. A woman didn’t invite a man into her bed when he’d just been a rude asshole. All that did was give him the go-ahead to use her as a doormat.

  She opened her book again, intent on pretending she couldn’t hear his heavy footfalls as he moved through the kitchen. As if she couldn’t hear the opening of a pop can or the clatter of a plate. Her mouth curved into a smirk. At least he felt comfortable enough in her house to make himself at home.

  Words ran together in a blur as she stared at the page. She would not, absolutely would not, open her mouth and invite him back here. She would not be spineless.

  Footsteps drew nearer, heavy treads that announced Jake’s presence. She slid her gaze sideways and caught his shadow in the hallway. Spineless, however, didn’t apply if he came to her.

  She didn’t look up as he entered the room, nor did she put down her book when he sat on the bed.

  “Hey.” He set a brownie-topped saucer on her thigh.

  In the scheme of peace offerings, brownies worked almost as perfectly as an apology. She held back her smile. Almost. “Hi.”

  Jake plucked the book out of her hands and set it on the nightstand. “I’d have brought coffee too, but then I wouldn’t have enough hands for this.” Reaching into his back pocket, he produced a carrot.

  She squinted. “What’s that for?”

  His expression turned serious, his blue eyes warm and kind. “Go see your horse, Gabby.”

  “Right. That’ll improve my mood. Just what I need—a reminder he can’t stand me before I go to bed.”

  He waved the carrot under her nose. “You won’t know unless you try.” He paused as he leaned over to kiss her cheek. “Besides, if it does, I’ll be here to remind you how crazy I am about you before you go to bed.”

  She couldn’t contain her smile any longer. It crept free as she shook her head in amusement. With a light laugh, she grabbed the carrot from his hand. “All right. But I’m taking the brownie with me.”

  Low and husky, his chuckle reverberated through her. Her blood warmed, her pulse skittered. Lord, the man knew how to make her weak. If only he’d change his mind and stay.

  She choked off the pull of regret and scooted out of the bed.

  “Can I use your shower?”

  One boot half-tugged onto her foot, Gabrielle flashed him a wry grin. “Think you can figure it out without me?”

  “Careful, sugar.” Jake’s full mouth broadened in a wide smirk. His eyes took on a darker hue. “Too much teasing, and I’ll take that carrot right back. Mamoon will have to wait until I’m finished with you.”

  “Mmm. By then it would be too late to venture outside.”

  He shook his head, his shoulders quaking with amusement. “No, it’ll be morning.”

  Her throat went dry at the implication. Not would be, but will be. A jest full of promise. She shivered as she pulled on her other tall rubber boot. A whole night of Jake. Sinful.

  Delicious.

  Choking back a giddy giggle, she darted down the hall.

  Outside, she huddled into her coat to keep out the western plains’ biting wind. In the summer, the strong breeze that came with nightfall cooled the flatlands. She looked forward to evenings on her small front porch, tea in hand, Margie beside her as they talked about their mutual days and bemoaned men. But winter made the gusts unbearable, and nights like these, she missed the temperate climate of Arizona. All year round, she could linger outside where she preferred to be. With the horses. Hanging around the barns. Watching the foals romp as their courage developed and they challenged their dams’ boundaries.

  At Mamoon’s paddock, she let herself inside and trudged through the snow, across the broken board, into Rajiv’s neighboring enclosure. The two stallions looked up. Rajiv let out a low nicker. In the distance another horse answered with a shrill whinny.

  “Hey, buddy,” she cooed to her senior stallion. She snapped the carrot in half and, approaching Rajiv, stretched her hand out in offering. He took a step forward, his focus centered on the treat. As he mouthed the portion, Gabrielle took a few moments to comb her fingers through his mane.

  She watched Mamoon over Rajiv’s back. What if he wigged out again and did something like kick her in the head? Would Jake think to check on her if too much time passed? In these temperatures, if she lay in the snow too long, hypothermia wouldn’t be far off. With a shake of her head, she dismissed the possibility. Jake wouldn’t let her freeze to death. If she didn’t come back inside by the time he finished in the shower, he’d come looking. He wouldn’t let her get hurt.

  With a deep, fortifying breath, she edged around Rajiv and stretched her fingers toward Mamoon. He looked at her hand, his expression curious. Encouraged, she took a step forward. But Mamoon stepped backward with a snort. A twinge of despair lurched through her. This wouldn’t work. He simply didn’t like her.

  Carrot. Try the carrot.

  She extended the opposite hand and unfolded her fingers, the carrot flat against her palm. “Here, boy. Momma brought you a treat.”

  At the sound of her voice, Mamoon’s ears pricked forward. He answered with a lazy swish of his tail. He lowered his head, stretching out his neck within inches of her fingers, not yet brave enough to close the distance.

  Breath held, Gabrielle waited. The sound of her heartbeat echoed in her head like low drums. She breathed shallowly, too afraid that any sound might send him skittering backward. Seconds spanned like hours, the only motion between them, the puffs of their breaths rising into the night.

  Mamoon stamped his hoof. He dipped his nose in a sharp head bob, his flaxen mane tumbling around his beautiful face.

  “C’mon, boy,” she coaxed. “C’mon. I won’t hurt you.”

  He tossed his head again, punctuating the action with a curl of his upper lip. A flehmen reaction, to catch a scent on the air. Hers? The carrot’s? Something else all together? Lowering his nose, he snorted.

  Gabrielle pushed her hand out farther. Her fingers shook with the cold. Please, please, please.

  The snow crunched as the stallion took a step forward a
nd closed his lips around the carrot. Her heart turned over, swelled, lodged in her throat. Mouth parted in a silent gasp, she lifted her other hand to hesitantly stroke his neck.

  He didn’t move. Merely chewed complacently.

  A burst of elation rushed through her veins, and she stepped in closer to rub his neck more thoroughly. As she scratched his withers, he leaned into her fingertips and bobbed his head in time with the motion of her hand. Her vision blurred, the moment of breakthrough stirring deep-rooted joy. Confident the horse wouldn’t balk, she looped her arms around his neck and buried her nose in his mane.

  ****

  Jake stared out the kitchen window, watching Gabrielle interact with her crazy stallion. He pushed a hand through his wet hair and dabbed his towel to his neck to soak up the lingering drops from his quick shower. He would have liked to warm up under the hot spray, but the need to make sure Gabrielle was safe overrode the desire to thaw out his body. Dressed only in his boxers, he leaned against the cabinet with a smile playing on his lips.

  That ought to erase her lingering mood. He understood she gathered strength from her horses. Hell, he did too. Those quiet moments, nose-to-nose with a whiskered muzzle, could heal from the inside out. He wouldn’t take that from her, no matter his own fear. He’d give her a few minutes. Besides, out in that paddock, Gabrielle had room to escape. Mamoon posed a greater danger in close confines, where she couldn’t get away.

  Question was, how long would she stay out there hanging onto Mamoon in the cold? Or better yet, how long would Mamoon tolerate her affection? Strangely, though, the stallion didn’t seem at all inclined to evade her hands. She raked her fingers through his mane and stepped in close for another hug that wound Jake’s gut into a worried knot.

  Gentle. If any word described Gabrielle Warrenton, that was it. Even angry, that underlying characteristic stood out. Watching her now, he learned something else—the woman didn’t just appreciate her horses for their quality. She loved them. The kind of love his mother had felt for horses. The same kind that lurked in his blood no matter how he tried to ignore it. In many respects, she reminded him of his mother. Petite, passionate, dedicated. Physically, aside from her red hair, she resembled Stephanie Lindsay-Sullivan right down to the hint of a swagger in her step. A bounce that came with confidence. The other thing that struck home was her dedication. That stallion marked proof of it. Like his mother, she wouldn’t give up. She, too, held the hope Mamoon would come around

  Unfortunately, that would lead to disappointment. While her stallion might tolerate her sweetness now, given enough time, he’d revert. Something would trigger him again. Jake only hoped when it did, Gabrielle was far away. Better yet, if Mamoon blew up before he had to leave, he still had a chance at convincing her to put him down. Hell, he’d buy her whatever stallion she wanted if she’d agree to euthanize that one.

  Damn, what was he saying? He’d buy her a horse? Good Lord, he’d really lost it. Two days, and he was willing to spend whatever it took on a horse. And he wouldn’t even own the damn thing. Something had crossfired in his brain. He should be plotting ways to get her money back so she could buy a new horse, not ways to convince her to let him buy one for her.

  He shook his head, chuckling to himself. Good ole Murphy. Always waiting for an opportunity to screw with his life. It figured he’d fall for the one woman he couldn’t have. And damn it all, he was falling hard. Leaving her wouldn’t be a matter of only her pain now. He’d ache with every mile he put between them. Miles he could never cover again.

  As Gabrielle marched through the snow back to the house, Jake pulled away from the window. He jogged to the bedroom and flopped on her bed. With a kick of his feet, he rearranged the covers to make it look as if he’d been lounging, not supervising. For added effect, he grabbed a magazine off her nightstand and flipped it open.

  “Jake!” Her footsteps pummeled through the house. “Jake!”

  She burst into the bedroom, panting. Her radiant smile soaked clear through to his core. His chest tightened, his cock stirred against his thigh. Breathless and giddy, she took his breath away. If interacting with Mamoon were all it took to make her this happy, he’d do whatever it required to make that horse respond to her daily.

  He closed the magazine and tossed it aside. “Went well?”

  “He let me touch him!” To his complete surprise, she threw herself on the bed, blanketing him.

  “Hey!” he feigned protest. “Get those wet boots off me.” With a tight hug, he hoisted her into a sitting position.

  Still laughing, Gabrielle kicked off her boots. She turned to him, her eyes holding the bright glint of sunlit glass as she slid a flattened palm up his chest. “I think I like coming inside to you in my bed.”

  Jake wound his arms around her tiny waist and hauled her down against him. “You think?”

  “No.” She shook her head and her long red hair tickled the side of his neck. “No, I know.” Her coat scraped against his skin as she scooted up his body to give him a sweet kiss. “I like you here. Thank you for sending me outside. How’d you know he’d be receptive?”

  With a pat to her bottom, he pushed her up enough to unzip her coat and slide it off her shoulders. She helped by wriggling until she squirmed out of it. She tossed it on the floor, then pulled her shirt over her head, giving him an exquisite view of a low-cut, navy-blue bra. He groaned inwardly, the sight of her full breasts tempting his hands. He stilled them by folding them over his belly and focused on answering her question. “I, ah…” He paused as she stood up to shimmy out of her jeans. Damn, oh, damn—matching underwear. “Just had a feeling.”

  “You were right on with that feeling.” She moved across the room to her dresser where she grabbed a bottle of lotion. Returning to the foot of the bed, she set one dainty foot on the mattress and rubbed the lotion into her leg. He swallowed thickly as heat surged to his groin. His cock answered with a powerful swell.

  Oblivious to his state of torment, she moisturized the opposite leg. “At any rate, that was just what I needed. I’m sorry I’ve been in a funk today.”

  Her hands worked down her arms, across her stomach, each nonchalant sweep eroding his ability to carry on a conversation. He watched in fascination, recalling all too strongly how soft that silken skin felt beneath his hands. Hells bells, he couldn’t lay here and witness her nighttime routine. Whatever came next would be torture he couldn’t stomach, he was certain of it. He had to touch her. Had to taste the sweet flavor of her mouth. Too many hours had passed since his last sample.

  “Sugar?”

  “Hm?” She glanced at him through the mirror as she set the lotion back on her dresser.

  “Come to bed.”

  One corner of her mouth pulled with a crooked grin. “I thought I made myself clear about this telling me what to do stuff?”

  He groaned aloud. “Fine. I’ll beg if I have to. Please come to bed, Gabrielle, before I go crazy with wanting you.”

  She turned around halfway, a thoughtful look tugging at her delicate features. “No,” she answered slowly as she tapped a fingernail against her chin. “In this case, I think I like the order better.”

  “Oh, for God’s sake, get in this bed.”

  Her laughter danced through the air as she tumbled into his arms, her mouth seeking his. Between ardent kisses, she instructed, “Undress me, Jake.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  “Gabrielle!”

  At the sound of her name, Gabrielle cracked one eye open. This wasn’t happening. She had to be dreaming. She’d just heard Margie’s voice.

  The back door clanged shut with enough force to rattle her bedroom window. “Gabrielle! Jake? Wake up!”

  Gabrielle let out a protesting groan and snuggled against Jake’s side. Not a dream. For whatever insane reason, her best friend had decided to drop in unannounced. For the love of God, why? Margie knew Jake was here. Why in the world would she interrupt a perfectly cozy morning?

  “Hey, you two. Get up
.” From the hallway, Margie’s voice rang louder.

  Jake’s arm wound around Gabrielle’s shoulders, his fingers warm against her cool skin. She closed her eyes with a contented murmur. His breath stirred her hair as he pressed a kiss to the crown of her head.

  “I think you’ve got company.”

  “Gabrielle, get up. I’m tired of dry, boxed cereal. You have electricity. I’m freezing over there.”

  “Go away,” Gabrielle croaked out. Lowering her voice, she asked, “What time is it?”

  “Seven thirty,” Jake whispered.

  She groaned again and burrowed deeper in the covers. Three hours of sleep. The last time she’d lost herself in Jake’s mind-numbing kisses had been at four in the morning. She hadn’t slept a wink. The hour or so dozes he’d allowed her between lovemaking didn’t count. Her body felt as if a bulldozer had plowed into her, and her eyes burned against her closed eyelids.

  “C’mon, sleepyheads. You’re going to make me feel like a third wheel.” The bathroom door closed, and the sound of running water filled the pipes.

  “I’m going to kill her,” Gabrielle muttered. She tipped her chin to look up at Jake. Eyes still closed as well, he smiled. “This is your fault, you know.”

  One dark eyebrow arched as he peeked through hooded eyelids. “Mine? How do you figure?”

  Looping her leg more snugly between his, she scooted deeper into his embrace. “If you weren’t here, she wouldn’t be either. At least not this early. And even if it were this early, I wouldn’t be this exhausted.”

  His low chuckle rumbled beneath her ear. Trapped in the languid sensations of lingering sleep, she splayed her hand across the wide expanse of his chest. Her fingers ventured over the small birthmark on his ribs, then up to trail across the demonic face on his tattoo. She issued a sharp order to her body to sit up, but couldn’t make herself obey. Lying here like this, listening to the sound of Jake’s rhythmic breathing, was like a glimpse of heaven.