Kentucky Bride

by Jan Scarbrough

  They sat next to each other on the leather sofa. He reached for her free hand and held it, longing to kiss her, longing for this terrible truth to go away.

  “When you and I split up,” he said, “I told myself it didn’t matter. I thought I would find another girl, but I never did.”

  Aimee opened her mouth to speak, but he hushed her with a touch of a fingertip to her lips.

  “Hear me out.” Cam stroked her soft cheek and then dropped his hand. “I concentrated instead on my father’s business. My mother got sick and Hal made me president. I haven’t had much time for dating.”

  “Neither have I,” she admitted.

  “Last night, I realized I probably didn’t want to find another girl,” Cam said. “I don’t think I ever stopped loving you, Aimee.”

  She stared at him, her lips slightly parted. The night they had shared was the connection between them now. Having sex—no, making love—bound them together as nothing else could have done. Cam understood that. He gazed into Aimee’s eyes and knew she understood it too.

  “Whatever happens between us, I want you to remember last night. It was perfect.”

  “Yes.” Now her voice was breathless. Her eyes were wide with wonder. Could it be love?

  Cam glanced away, unable to look at her. “I never would have thought about you again, Aimee, being so caught up in running the business until…”

  “Until you bought Wedded Bliss and put him in training with Jimmy.”

  Her eyes were bright with excitement, as if she understood the happenstance that brought them together.

  His gut twisted. “Not quite.” Cam fought the fear rising in his throat. “I knew you were working with Jimmy.”

  “You did?” Her eyes widened.

  “Yes.” He forced himself not to break eye contact. “You can say I bought Wedded Bliss so that I could see you again.”

  She looked surprised and then smiled. “That’s the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard.”

  Aimee threw her arms around his neck and hugged him tight. He hugged her back, longing to do more than just hold her. She kissed him then, and the poignancy of the kiss wasn’t lost on Cam.

  Sitting back, Aimee continued to touch his cheek. Her fingers were gentle, but work roughened. Her eyes were filled with a tenderness that made Cam’s heart miss a beat.

  She didn’t understand what he was trying to say.

  “Aimee, you don’t know how I wish that was all of it.” He glanced away, and she dropped her hand.

  “What are you trying to tell me, Cam?”

  He looked back at her. “Your father has offered Brennan Equipment Company a very lucrative contract for five brand new pieces of heavy equipment.”

  She cocked her head. Her eyes narrowed with suspicion.

  “It’s worth over two million dollars.” Cam swallowed his pride and said, “I wouldn’t have landed the contract without our trip to Chicago.”

  “Do you mean you used me to get to my father?”

  He nodded his head, unable to say “yes.”

  She stood up. “I can’t believe it.”

  Cam forced out a big breath. “I can’t believe it myself.” He stood too. “After our time together, I didn’t like myself. That’s why I had to tell you.”

  “Noble of you.” Her voice was toneless.

  “No, there’s nothing noble in this.” He shook his head. “I discovered I cared about you and you don’t deserve to be lied to. I decided tell you the truth hoping we can repair my mistake.” Cam reached for her. “Aimee, I never stopped loving you. That’s also what I’m trying to tell you.”

  She stepped back, away from his touch. “You have a fine way of showing it.”

  “I didn’t know I was still in love with you. Not when this first started. It was after we got together again that I realized it.” Cam heard the desperate quality in his voice.

  “Cam, I don’t know you well enough to understand your motives. All I know is that I feel dirty, and I don’t like that feeling.”

  “God, Aimee, don’t feel dirty. You’re a beautiful, loving woman. I’m so lucky to have found you again.”

  “How can I believe that? How can I believe anything you tell me?”

  “Because it’s the truth.”

  “You wouldn’t know the truth if it slapped you in the face.”

  Aimee swallowed hard, her eyes welling with tears. Her expression turned Cam’s heart.

  “Aimee!” He took a step toward her.

  “Leave me alone!”

  She turned and fled, slamming the lounge door and disappearing around the corner and into the stable.

  Cam didn’t follow her. He didn’t blame her for being mad.

  Picking up the white cap she’d left behind, he readjusted his shattered pride and broken heart, and left the barn hoping to bury himself in the day-to-day busyness of running his company.

  * * * *

  Aimee tried not to cry, but she couldn’t help it. Fighting back heavy tears, she escaped outside and climbed on top of a fence railing. Sitting there, balancing on the rail, she stared out toward the rolling green pasture. Two retired Saddlebreds grazed quietly in the distance.

  Oh, how she loved this place. At least she could depend on Jimmy and Toady. Cam’s betrayal grabbed her gut and squeezed it hard, making her sick with grief and anger.

  She had hoped he had changed. That age and circumstances would make a difference in whatever relationship developed between them. Fat chance now. Cam was just like the rest of them. Men used her to get to her father.

  Was she really nothing without Daddy’s money?

  Aimee backhanded the tears. She wouldn’t cry for Camden Brennan. She wouldn’t! She’d been gullible again. Falling for him, sleeping with him—those were things she knew not to do, but she’d done them anyway.

  The cell phone her father had bought her was in her pocket. Pulling it out, she stared at it, anger growing every second. On impulse, she punched in her father’s office number. Five o’clock here meant it was four in Chicago.

  “He left early today,” Cynthia, the administrative assistant, said.

  “Oh, okay. I’ll try home.”

  Aimee ended the call and then pressed the number for her house.

  “I’m so glad to hear from you, Aimee,” her mother said, gushing with excitement. “No, your father is playing golf today with Vince Clayton. He’s not home.”

  “Okay.” Aimee didn’t know what she would say to her father. It was probably better she couldn’t reach him.

  “How are you doing, sweetheart?” her mother asked, an anxious note to her voice.

  “I’m fine.” Now that was a lie.

  “Do you have everything you need? Is there anything I can do for you?”

  It was sad, really, as if her mother ached so much for her daughter’s love that she tried too hard. Aimee had come to understand that. She loved her mother, but she didn’t like being pushed. She didn’t like feeling responsible for her mother’s happiness.

  “I’m fine, really. Jimmy and Toady are taking good care of me.”

  “Hump! They should for all the money your father is paying them.”

  The phone turned to stone in Aimee’s hand. “What did you say, Mom?”

  “Oh, I wasn’t supposed to tell you that.” Her mother sounded confused. “Ray didn’t want you to know. Oh, well, you know me.” There was a self-deprecating tone to her voice and uncomfortable laughter. “I never could keep a secret. I’ve done pretty well for this long, don’t you think?”

  Aimee held her breath and restrained her temper. “Are you telling me that Daddy paid Jimmy and Toady money? Why did he do that?”

  “So that man would hire you, of course.”

  Aimee grabbed the railing with her free hand. This was worse than she ever expected. The whole world she had carefully crafted was a sham. Cam, her father, Jimmy—the three men in her life had deceived her in the worst way.

  She felt unclean. She felt sick. Her stomach cr
amped from the knowledge that she was nothing without Daddy’s money.

  “Aimee? Did I say something wrong?”

  “No, Mom. It’s just that sometimes the truth hurts.”

  “What do you mean, darling? Daddy was only watching out for you because he loves you.”

  “His love smothers me,” Aimee said between gritted teeth.

  “Oh, that’s silly.”

  “It’s not silly. It’s like when you wanted me to take ballet as a child. I wasn’t good at it.”

  “But you had to try, dear.”

  “Why? Why did I have to try?” Aimee raised her voice, fighting back more tears.

  “All the other little girls were taking ballet.”

  “Don’t you see? I was only good at horses. But that was never good enough for you.”

  “Aimee, we bought you all the horses you wanted. I really don’t understand what your problem is.”

  “My problem is that I can’t be who you want me to be,” Aimee said in an even voice. “I’m no good in the society you expect me to move in. I can’t make you happy because I’m not the person you want me to be.”

  “Really, dear, you’re talking gibberish. I’ve always been happy with you. I love you.”

  Aimee didn’t react to her mother’s words. She snapped the phone shut and balanced on the railing, her mind whirling with panic.

  What kind of person was she? She didn’t know. Her life, as she knew it, had just been stripped away. Aimee Elliott, horse trainer, was an ugly façade, an empty shell.

  She hopped down from the fence and strode into the barn. She gathered her saddle from the tack room and her purse from the office. Jimmy stared at her as she passed him in the aisle, but she didn’t speak.

  There was nothing to say.

  Chapter Nine

  Tuesday Morning

  Brennan Equipment Company

  Cam sat behind his mahogany desk staring at a stack of papers and a computer screen that had gone blank from lack of activity. He was tired. He’d spent a sleepless night going over the events of the past forty-eight hours, trying to figure out what, if anything, he could have done differently. Nothing came to him, other than being more forceful when he told Aimee he loved her.

  Because he did love her. That realization had hit him like the proverbial ton of bricks once he returned home and gazed out the window at the pool house. To think that he’d never have the chance to amend his mistakes, to make love to her again, to ask her to marry him blew his mind big time.

  He’d always been so careful never to screw up. Hurting Aimee, ruining their fledgling relationship had been the worst blunders of his life.

  His iPhone played the University of Kentucky fight song, his ringtone. Cam glanced at the display. Aimee!

  “Hello!” he said too eagerly. “Aimee?”

  “No, this is Toady Burke.”

  “Oh, I thought this was Aimee’s cell number.”

  “It is,” Toady answered. “This is her cell phone. I was calling to ask if you know where she is.”

  “What?”

  “Aimee is missing.”

  “Missing?” Cam half rose out of his seat and then sat down hard. “What do you mean, missing?”

  “Just that,” Toady explained. “She walked out of the barn yesterday carrying her saddle. Jimmy didn’t ask her what she was doing and Aimee didn’t say a word. When I got home, I found her things gone from the basement apartment, everything except this phone.”

  Damn! He’d driven her away from the job she loved.

  “I thought she might be with you,” Toady went on.

  “No, I haven’t seen her since yesterday afternoon.”

  Toady cleared her throat. “I’ve talked to both her mother and father. She’s not with them. Her mother seems to think she told Aimee something to upset her.”

  “Aimee was already upset,” Cam said quietly.

  “Mrs. Elliott didn’t know the whole story. What she told Aimee was not true, and we’re afraid that’s why she left.” Toady paused as if drawing a breath.

  “Are you going to enlighten me?” Cam couldn’t keep the anxiety from his voice.

  “She told Aimee that her father paid Jimmy to hire her as a trainer.”

  Cam shut his eyes. Shit! After what he’d just told her, no wonder Aimee disappeared.

  “But it’s not true,” Toady went on. “Mr. Elliott was helping us pay off Jimmy’s medical bills. His wife got the whole thing screwed up.”

  “You’ve called Aimee’s friends? Do they know where she is?”

  “I don’t know her friends.”

  “I’ve met a few of them,” Cam said, trying to remember the names of the girls he met at The Racetrack several weeks ago.

  “Do you think you can ask them if they’ve seen Aimee? Her mother is sick with worry.”

  “I bet she is.” Cam didn’t have much sympathy for Mrs. Elliott any more than he had sympathy for himself. It was Aimee he was worried about. “I’ll do what I can do.”

  Toady clicked off. Cam shut down his computer, pocketed his iPhone and climbed to his feet.

  “I’m taking an early lunch,” he told his secretary as he strode out of the office.

  * * * *

  Louisville’s famed Racetrack Restaurant buzzed with the executive lunch crowd when Cam arrived at eleven-thirty. He was seated at a booth against the wall under a watercolor of the racing Thoroughbreds. Placing his order, he then requested to speak to the owner, Chef Lane Williams.

  Fifteen minutes later, before his salad arrived, Williams approached his table. Dressed in a classic two-button gray suit, white dress shirt, and burgundy striped silk tie, the owner presented the exacting image of a successful businessman. Cam could respect that.

  He rose and extended his hand. “Camden Brennan,” he said, introducing himself.

  Williams nodded and shook his hand.

  “Will you have a seat?” Cam motioned with his right hand as he sat down.

  Williams sat opposite. “What can I do for you, Mr. Brennan?”

  “Cam, please.” Cam sipped his ice water. “I’m inquiring about a woman, Aimee Elliott. Her parents are worried about her.”

  “What makes you think I know anything about Miss Elliott?”

  Cam read the evasion in the restaurateur’s eyes. “I had dinner here with Miss Elliott and her friends several weeks ago,” he explained. “I know one of Aimee’s friends is your wife. Her parents want to find their daughter.”

  Williams leaned back in his chair. “You can assure her parents that she’s okay, but she doesn’t want to be found.”

  “That’s understandable,” Cam agreed, relieved that Aimee was okay. “Will you tell her to call home? Her father has something to tell her. She was misinformed, and he wants to set the record straight.”

  Williams stood. “I can tell her, but I can’t guarantee she will call home.”

  Cam looked up at the serious older man. “There are no guarantees, are there, Chef Williams?”

  “No, sir. None at all.”

  * * * *

  The soothing June sunshine warmed Aimee’s face. She finished hanging the clean towels and rags out in the air to dry and then walked back into the barn. Henry Carlisle’s “gentleman’s farm” near Louisville contained over a hundred acres with pasture and woodland, and a stable big enough for Henry’s retired Thoroughbreds and Saddlebreds.

  Henry was married to Sarah Williams’ aunt, the woman who harbored Aimee quite willingly in her upstairs guest room. Aunt Amelia, once a famous food critic, doted on her new great-nephew and kept Henry out of trouble, or so she claimed.

  “Lord, child,” Aunt Amelia said, waddling into the tack room. “You don’t have to do all this work.”

  Aimee straightened the saddles and girths. She looked around and smiled. “Nervous energy. I’m not used to inactivity. Besides, I’m repaying your kindness.”

  “Mercy! We’re glad for the company.”

  Aimee was glad for the company too.
The Carlisles were a happy couple, full of generous good humor. Her fiend Sarah had been right to suggest their home as a hideaway. She needed time to think and get her act together. She needed space.

  Amelia hitched her hefty backside up on a stool. She wore her bottled blonde hair in a style reminiscent of the nineteen sixties. Her Capri pants were mint green and her blouse was splotched with bright yellow and red poppies.

  She cleared her throat. “Seems as if your folks are looking for you.”

  “I expected that. How do you know?”

  “A nice young man spoke to my nephew Lane at The Racetrack.”

  “Cam.” Aimee’s heart took a nosedive. She didn’t know what to think about Cam. Her emotions conflicted, at once feeling betrayed and angry, and the next, feeling sorry for the breakup of their relationship.

  Who was she kidding? They didn’t have a relationship. They’d just had sex. Granted it had been mind-blowing, heart-stopping sex, but that didn’t mean he loved her. He claimed he did, but she knew enough about men’s declarations to know how easily “I love you” slipped from their lips.

  “Lane said Cam had a message from your father. You’re to call home because there’s been a misunderstanding.”

  “Yeah and I made it.”

  “Your folks are worried about you, dear.”

  Aimee nodded. “I know, but I can’t call them. Not yet anyway.”

  Amelia tapped a dimpled finger on her chin. “What about the nice young man?”

  “He’s Jimmy’s client.” She turned back to the saddle racks.

  “You can’t dismiss me that easily,” Amelia warned. “That young man is special to you.”

  “Except that he’s a liar.” Aimee heard the bitterness in her voice. She turned back to face her hostess.

  Amelia rejected her comment with an impatient wave of her bejeweled hand. “He’s a man. Need I say more?”

  “I’m tired of men using me because of my father’s money.”

  Amelia shook her head. “It’s not your father’s money, dear. It’s your attitude toward it and toward yourself.”

  How had Amelia pinpointed her problem so readily? Aimee swallowed her resentment and stared at the older woman. “I’m only good with horses. I don’t know anything else.”