Thoroughbreds and Trailer Trash

by Bev Pettersen

  “Three Brooks needs a manager. Someone honest and reliable, someone who knows horses and cares about the employees. I’d like you to apply for that position.”

  “What about Wally?”

  “Wally’s given his notice.” Burke cast an approving eye over Colin’s degrees, the elite university and the magna cum laude distinction. Yes, this man would be ideal.

  “Any other staff changes?” Colin’s voice had turned gruff.

  “None so far and I’d like to keep it that way.”

  “Then thanks for your offer,” Colin said, “but I decline.” He nodded at the door. “I’m sure you can find your way out.”

  “Salary would start at one twenty with full benefits and an apartment in four months’ time.” Burke leaned forward, studying the man’s face, certain he’d spotted a flash of interest. “Imagine. No more working nights, no weekends. No more animals dying on your operating table. No need to tell a bawling kid that Rover’s really gone to heaven.”

  Colin’s eyes shuttered. “You really are a ruthless son of a bitch. Now get out.”

  “Fine.” Burke rose, then paused. He wasn’t the type to flog a dead horse but this man interested him, and it was obvious the vet would take care of Jenna. “What would you need?” he asked. “If there’s someone on staff that’s unsuitable, possibly we could make an adjustment.”

  Colin opened his desk drawer, deliberately laying out three gleaming surgical knives. “You neglected to do your research on this one, pal. I wish you luck, I really do. Now I’m afraid Rover needs me.”

  Burke inclined his head and walked out.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  “I’m coming home for good,” Emily said. “No way you can change my mind.”

  Unless Trevor asks you to stay, Jenna thought, sinking into the closest kitchen chair. “There are no jobs around here,” she said frantically. “Even Kathryn Winfield is moving away.”

  “Really? I heard she was seeing Colin. He must have been hard up for a woman—or else Leo influenced him.”

  “No one influences Colin.”

  “You did,” Emily said.

  Jenna rubbed her temple, fighting a rush of guilt. “Just remember Wally is no longer in charge at the Center. You won’t be able to work there.” Gravel shifted as a black car pulled into the driveway. “Someone’s here for supper,” she added. “I’ll call tomorrow. Please write your exams. Don’t waste the entire semester.”

  She started to close the phone on Emily’s plaintive whine then froze. What am I doing? Her sister was more important than Burke. “It’s okay, Em,” she said quickly. “We can talk now. Tell me about Trevor.”

  “Don’t bother,” Emily snapped. “Go make supper. Obviously you’re very hungry.” The connection switched to an angry dial tone.

  Jenna dropped the accusing phone then glanced through the screen. Burke sauntered up the steps, a bag dangling from his right hand. He must have come directly from his meetings and wore a dark sports jacket, white shirt, loosened tie. Had her father even owned a tie?

  People like Burke didn’t belong here, didn’t belong in this trailer, didn’t belong with her.

  She forced a smile and opened the door but he was bored and slumming—looking for a spot of entertainment in Hicksville—and she suddenly viewed his presence with a bone-deep resentment.

  “I dropped the fish off at your neighbor’s.” He paused, studying her stiff face. “Mrs. Parker said thanks and wants you to drop by for tea this Sunday.” He spoke so slowly, so carefully, her eyes pricked. She knew he must be confused but she couldn’t hide her despair. He simply didn’t belong here.

  “And I’ll be right back,” he added. He pivoted and walked out the door.

  Probably leaving and the hollow place in her chest ached but, of course, she wanted him to leave, the sooner the better. She rose and yanked out the frying pan. Feed him quickly, then call Emily. If he didn’t come back, she’d have fish for lunch tomorrow.

  The screen door opened and he stepped back in. She stared, her hand squeezing the frying pan. He’d pulled on his hard hat along with a faded T-shirt, ripped over one big shoulder. A rugged tool belt hung around his lean hips, loaded with every size hammer imaginable. Even his face was smudged.

  “Did you put dirt on your cheek?” she asked.

  “A little.” His grin was slightly sheepish.

  “Damn. You sure know how to please a woman.” Her lips quivered, turning into a reluctant smile. How could she ever resent a man like this?

  “You are the dangest little lady.”

  He even had the hillbilly lingo, albeit delivered with a snooty New York accent. His muscled laborer’s body moved further into her kitchen, and he opened the cupboard door. He removed two glasses and deftly uncorked the wine.

  “We’ll eat later,” he said. “But first, you and I are getting drunk.”

  ***

  He refilled both glasses and settled her back against his chest, dragging his mouth over her forehead.

  “And then what happened?” she asked.

  “Another fight, another expulsion. I wasn’t good at making friends but I did learn how to fight.”

  She squeezed his hand, appalled his parents wouldn’t let him attend public school. Parents can be so dumb.

  She stared across the driveway, picturing her mother hurrying across the gravel, worn dress flapping, dropping Emily to hug their father. Sucked in once again by a cocky smile, token promises, and another bottle of cheap champagne.

  Her hand tightened around Burke’s fingers. “I never cared much for my father either,” she admitted. Maybe a few times. Like when he’d sat up all night with a colicing Peanut and the weekend he’d tossed her cheating boyfriend into the lake. “It didn’t matter though,” she added. “My mom cared enough for all of us.”

  “Love makes people do strange things,” Burke said. She felt his scrutiny but he must have sensed she didn’t enjoy parent talk. His hand slid comfortingly over her arm. “Your shoulder seems better,” he added.

  “Doesn’t hurt at all. Probably the time off helped.” And the sessions with Peanut under the infrared lights. She sighed, wishing the wine hadn’t left her melancholy. She hated sneaking, wanted to tell the truth, but they were getting along so well. She liked seeing him happy.

  “Before I go, I’m setting up a Policy and Procedures Manual,” he said. “And no more than two horses will ever be massaged in one day.”

  “Really?” She gaped, remembering all the times her muscles had ached after working on too many big, and sometimes uncooperative, animals. “That’s so thoughtful. We’ll be deluged with resumes.” She peered through the gloom, trying to see his expression. “Did you hire a new manager yet?” Her tongue tripped slightly from the wine.

  “Talked to a couple candidates. Then I thought it’d be preferable to have a vet in that position. Give the operation a little more credibility. What’s your opinion of Colin MacDonald?”

  The hollow place in her chest caved. She drew in a deep breath and averted her head. “He’s kind, honest, loves animals and is very good looking. He has the smartest Australian Shepherd I’ve ever seen and makes a mean Singapore Sling.”

  “Entirely unsuitable then.” Burke’s arms tightened. “I gather you two have some history.”

  The pain in her chest spread. “We met in another town,” she said quietly, “and it was perfect, seeing each other once a month. He thought it would be better if his practice were closer. We should have kept it casual but he wouldn’t listen.

  “He’d be a great m-manager,” she continued, her voice cracking. “And he deserves it.” She placed her glass on the table, feeling like her chest was imploding. “But we can’t work together. I’ll leave.”

  “You’re not going anywhere.” He scooped her up, pressing her against his chest, so tightly she could hear the thudding of his heart. “But you have the damnedest knack for making people care.”

  “I don’t want that though.” She pressed her knuc
kles against her cheek. “I don’t want to love anyone. Don’t want to turn into my mother. That’s why it’s good you’re leaving soon. You are leaving soon, right?”

  He tilted her chin, staring for a long moment. A slight frown wrinkled the skin on his forehead. “I think I understand now,” he finally said.

  His gaze settled on her mouth, and his expression changed, his eyes darkening. He reached up, caressing her lip with a touch so tender she could barely feel it. “I am leaving. Very soon. Now may I come inside?”

  “Yes,” she whispered, shivering slightly from the touch of his thumb.

  He uncoiled, tugging her off the swing. Pulled open the screen door and walked her into the kitchen. Reached over and clicked off the oven, and the intensity of his gaze turned her warm all over.

  His right hand stroked the curve of her jaw, so gently she trembled with wanting. He slid his other hand under her shirt, his fingers warm against her skin. She wet her lips and swallowed, but it was still difficult to breathe.

  “Jenna,” he murmured, cradling her face, staring with such intensity her breathing turned ragged. And then he shifted, his mouth brushing hers, moving slowly. She could feel the tip of his tongue and pressed forward, her senses whirling.

  She rose on her tiptoes, wanting more of his teasing touch. Looped her arms around his head and urged him closer. His head abruptly slanted, his mouth hot and heavy now, until she lost herself in the kissing.

  Somehow her bra released. He worked the T-shirt over her head, until she was bare breasted, his mouth and hands covering her with raw urgency.

  She curled one hand through his hair even as he backed her to the wall and lowered his mouth over her breast. He stopped way too soon and she clung to his neck, breathless and wobbly.

  He scooped her up and strode down the hall and into her bedroom. Springs creaked as he dropped her on the bed and yanked at his belt. His jeans dropped to the floor. He was gorgeous, big and clearly ready. She drew in a shivery sigh. Hoped he wasn’t going to be too fast; it had been a long time since Colin.

  His hands closed around her ankles and he pulled her to the edge of the bed. Tugged her jeans over her hips, clearly in a hurry. Hooked a thumb over her panties, eyes darkening with appreciation as he slipped them off.

  He stroked her with a knowing finger. She jerked with impatience, trying to reach him, but he flattened his palm over her stomach, holding her in place. His warm mouth circled her navel then swooped lower.

  She protested, but weakly. Aw, shit. She couldn’t stand it. It felt so good and it had been way too long. She shattered in seconds, boneless, unable to move. “Thanks,” she whispered, “but you shouldn’t have done that. Now I just want to sleep.”

  “I don’t think so.” His chuckle sounded slightly wicked in the dark. He adjusted her against the pillow, cradling her head until she opened her eyes.

  He kissed her then, deeply and intimately, doing such erotic things to her mouth, to her breasts, that she started tingling all over again. His palms were slightly calloused and moved over her body with deft assurance, finding all her hot spots, showing her new ones.

  When his clever hand finally moved between her legs, she arched from the bed, afraid she was going to climax again but wanting it so badly, she gripped his damp shoulders and marveled at his control.

  She reached down and stroked him. He sucked in a sharp breath and groped around the floor, fumbled with the pocket of his jeans. He rolled on a condom and nudged her thighs apart, staring with possessive eyes as he angled her hips to receive him. One hard thrust.

  And even though she was wet and so very ready, she stiffened in discomfort. He paused, propping his elbows by her head, reassuring her with a deep kiss even as he reached down and stroked her with that wonderful hand, creating a pulsing pool of need.

  She automatically widened her legs. He thrust further, lodged deeper, still stroking with his hand until a primitive urgency replaced the ache. Craving him now, she wrapped her legs around his hips until they moved with the rhythm of long-time lovers.

  It was good and it had been so long. She tried to be silent, pressing her teeth against his shoulder and gripping his ridged back. His body tightened, one last deep thrust, and she couldn’t stifle her moan.

  She collapsed on the bed, unable to move, scarcely able to breathe, somewhat surprised that he had the energy to pull her close. He tucked the sheet around her and slid his hand to the back of her neck.

  “That had to be better for me than you,” she managed, still boneless.

  “Not a chance.” He kissed her so reverently, her heart lurched but continued to rub her neck, coaxing her closer until she settled into his chest, totally pliant while he cupped her breast and explored her body all over again.

  “This was all great but I’m rather sleepy,” she said, keeping her eyelids shut. “Guess I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  He chuckled but continued his possessive sweep of her body as though memorizing her curves, silent, not bothering her too much. She wasn’t used to sharing a bed but this wasn’t too bad. She snuggled a tiny bit closer. He wasn’t asking any questions and she loved his woodsy smell. Besides, his slow hands made her feel all protected and a little…aroused.

  She obligingly parted her thighs, exhausted but curious and his fingers felt so good, his touch so tantalizing. She stopped thinking and minutes later groaned as another climax swept her.

  She opened her eyes and stared, half dazed. But the room was dark, his expression hidden, her body and brain too lethargic. The most she could manage was to plant a grateful kiss on his chest. “You can stay overnight if you want,” she whispered, then immediately wanted to retract the offer. He was too much of a dealmaker not to pounce, and her defenses had melted somewhere along with her multiple orgasms.

  “Three nights,” he said.

  She pulled back an inch, too drained to escape to her side of the bed. Still, no man had slept overnight before. Emily had been a built-in chaperone, and a pretend boyfriend in the next town kept most men away. Burke, though, rammed like a runaway freight train.

  “Three nights and I make breakfast. Plus,” he added, lazily thumbing her nipple, “I’ll even cook the fish tonight.”

  Her stomach rumbled. She’d forgotten all about the trout along with the apple cobbler in the oven. And now breakfast? Bacon and eggs had been a rarity since Emily left for college. “What kind of breakfast are we talking?” she asked. “Continental?”

  “So suspicious.” He chuckled and slid his hand beneath her hair until she’d settled back against his chest. Such a nice chest too. She traced the contours with her fingers, drifting lower, unable to resist some exploration of her own.

  “All right,” she murmured, “but you also put Peanut in for the night and cut up his carrots.”

  “Peanut’s top of my list,” he said.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Jenna clearly had no idea how sexy she was in her little shorts and white T-shirt, hair slightly tousled, one slim leg folded beneath her. Burke resolutely lifted his gaze to her face and slipped another piece of crisp bacon on her plate.

  “Thanks,” she said. “It’s great you can cook too.”

  “Too?” He raised an eyebrow, trying to keep it light, but he hadn’t been able to get enough last night. Even now, it was hard to keep his hands off her. Jenna’s quick blush and accompanying wiggle on the swing made his body jerk to attention. Unfortunately, she didn’t seem to share his fascination. She’d been trying to get rid of him for the last half hour.

  “You probably have to go to the Center,” she said, averting her gaze. “I can find a mug so you can take the coffee with you.”

  “Actually it’s nice not to be bothered by staff,” he said. “I’ll do some work from here, if you don’t mind.”

  “All right.”

  The words were carefully neutral. However, her mouth tightened and if her eagerness to be alone hadn’t flattened his ego, it would have been funny. But this wasn’t funny; i
t was damn frustrating. “I also want you to research some things for me,” he said.

  That got her attention and she leaned forward, so close he caught a hint of her flowery shampoo. “Of course,” she said, still clearly contrite about her earlier oversight. “What would you like me to check?”

  What could she check? He dragged a hand over his jaw. Something that would keep her by his side for several hours. “Just the stud fee increase over the last year…no, over the last five years. You also neglected the background check on Lorna and David, even though you had the entire week off. That fire was a shocker.” He injected a hint of censure in his voice—people were always more pliable when off balance.

  “I’m so sorry.” Her eyes darkened with regret. “I’ll start work on the Ridgemans right away.”

  Ah-ha. He had her now. He stretched his arm across the back of the swing, unable to resist fingering a tendril of her silky hair. “No need to rush,” he said. “Relax and have another cup of tea first.”

  ***

  Jenna stared blankly at her phone. ‘David Ridgeman, widowed,’ but the rest of the words turned to black squiggles. Despite her best intentions, Burke was getting to her. She’d never been so intensely aware of a man’s movements—his frown when he read something that displeased him, his bold scrawl when he made notations, the absent-minded way he stroked her hair.

  He was a generous lover, a fabulous lover, and it seemed that her body had implanted the memory and now leaped to his faintest touch.

  ‘David Ridgeman, widowed,’ she read again, trying to make her brain work, trying to be like Burke who never had the least trouble concentrating. He’d been jotting notations for the last half hour, completely at ease, while she struggled with what had happened last night.

  Just sex but it always seemed to arouse her needy feelings. And this time she couldn’t bolt. He was always around, always anticipating; it was impossible to lock her defenses into place. Too bad he wouldn’t leave today, just fly away to another job before she was sucked in too deep.