Kentucky Groom

by Jan Scarbrough

“Deny what?”

  “Deny you find Jay attractive.”

  Carrie shifted her stance and looked away. “He is a good looking young man.”

  “And?”

  “And charming.” Charming? That was an understatement. He had certainly charmed the socks off her.

  “I remember you girls giggling about him at camp that summer.”

  Carrie’s heart began to hammer. “That was a long time ago.” A long time ago and a life time away.

  Yet why did her stomach clench tight when Jay leveled one of his unsettling looks at her? Why did heat inch up her neck when he smiled? It was purely physical, she told herself. It had to be. She was a widow with a child to raise and a business to sell. She couldn’t afford a silly school girl crush to add complications to her life.

  “Come in and line up,” Mary called to Jesse, who rode into the center of the arena and halted in front of them. She touched the pony’s shoulder to have him pose. Obediently, Doolittle stepped forward one step leaving his back legs in place to stretch out his beautiful body. “You did a good job today, honey,” Mary said as she circled the pair.

  Jesse lifted her chin and raised her hands, her fingers curling lightly around the reins. A dull ache settled in Carrie’s heart. Her daughter resembled Tate. At times, it was like living with her dead husband’s ghost.

  Mary adjusted the position of Jesse’s right boot, but other than that she had no comment except for a terse nod. “Take Doolittle back to his stall,” she said.

  Jesse nudged Doolittle out of his stance. She smiled happily at her mother, acknowledging the good job she’d done. Horse and rider turned toward the doorway that led to the stable area. Carrie and Mary followed.

  “Don’t be so defensive about Jay, honey.” Mary clapped a gentle hand on Carrie’s shoulder. “I’m just teasing.”

  Not at a point where she could trust her emotions, Carrie had a hard time making light of Mary’s needling even though the stable owner had become her friend as well as her riding instructor.

  “I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” Carrie said with a shrug. “I don’t want to feel this way. It’s just too soon after Tate’s death.”

  Mary nodded in understanding. “Of course it is. Tate has been gone less than a year.”

  “I have Jesse’s welfare to consider.” Carrie’s voice faltered. “I can’t afford to be attracted to someone like Jay.”

  Mary gave her shoulder a final squeeze before she dropped her hand. “Don’t let appearances fool you,” she warned. “Jay’s a fine young man, and he comes from a good family.”

  They turned the corner into the aisle between the stalls. “If he comes from a ‘good’ family, why is he here?” Carrie wanted to know.

  “I told you earlier. He’s down on his luck.”

  “Is he in trouble with the law?”

  The question drew a laugh from the stable owner. “No! Nothing like that.”

  “Then what?”

  “Why don’t you ask Jay? It isn’t my place to break his confidences.” Mary left Carrie standing in the middle of the aisle.

  Control yourself. You don’t need another summer flirtation.

  She’d done that once before.

  Carrie took a deep breath and expelled it slowly. The last time was when she was eighteen and had gotten pregnant with Jesse.

  * * * *

  Jay positioned himself at Doolittle’s head while Jesse dismounted, his gaze drifting down the long dirt aisle to where Carrie was standing. He struggled with the sense of euphoria he felt every time he saw Carrie Mercer. The woman had an uncanny ability to make his heart gallop like a horse free in a field.

  “Wipe that smile off your face, Preston, and get to work,” Mary ordered.

  “Ma’am?” Jay hadn’t even noticed his employer’s approach. He hid a guilty smile and led Doolittle into his stall.

  Mary stopped at the door as he was putting on cross-ties and stripping the saddle from the damp horse. “After you take his tack off, I need Meg’s horse for the next lesson.”

  Jay’s gaze connected with Mary’s, and the amusement in her eyes almost knocked him sideways. Good old Mary. She was perceptive and had a wicked sense of humor. Her way of telling him she’d seen him eyeballing Carrie was to hassle him about his work ethic.

  “Yes, ma’am.” Jay raised a right hand in salute.

  “You’re incorrigible.” Mary said with a huff and left him to do his job.

  Jay chuckled and hefted the saddle onto the wooden rack outside the stall. Then he hurried to the next stall. Meg’s horse was a big chestnut with a trimmed mane. Jay put on the bridle, tightened the saddle girth and led the gelding into the aisle.

  “Here we go.” Mary gave ten-year-old Meg a leg-up.

  Horse and rider moved away, and Jesse scampered after them.

  “I need the walk-trot horse next,” Mary told Jay before she followed the two girls toward the arena.

  “Will do.” Jay reentered Doolittle’s stall where Carrie stroked the bay gelding’s neck.

  “Doolittle’s hot,” Carrie said, her voice sounding far away, distracted.

  “Oh, he’s not so bad.”

  Carrie left the stall and stood at the door. Jay picked up the aluminum sweat scraper, and ran it over the pony’s glistening body. It made a whisking sound. He worked for a moment, feeling Carrie’s gaze upon him like an approving nod.

  Was she interested in him? It was tough to know, because they had only seen each other at the stable. He hardly knew anything about her. He only knew that being around her made him feel happy for the first time in years.

  Jay glanced up at her. Their gazes joined briefly, and then she looked away.

  “Is anything wrong?” he asked.

  “Wrong? No. What makes you think something’s wrong?”

  “You’re awfully quiet.” Jay dropped the scraper into a bucket of liniment and water and picked up a wet sponge.

  “I’m just thinking,” Carrie said as if shrugging off his concern.

  Jay squeezed the excess water from the sponge. Her blond hair was tied back from her face. What would it be like to kiss her full lips? Would she respond? His fingers itched to touch her heavy hair, to unbind the braid, to stroke it.

  Jay swallowed hard and dabbed the sponge onto Doolittle’s back. His insides felt like jelly. He needed to act if he wanted things to progress between them farther than heated looks and flushed faces.

  “Mommy, Mommy!” Jesse dashed down the aisle and slid to a halt in front of her mom. “Meg’s mother asked me to eat dinner and spend the night.”

  Carrie smiled down at her daughter. Jay watched their interaction—how Jesse rocked on her heels with excitement, how Carrie’s fingertip brushed a strand of hair from Jesse’s eyes. What if Carrie touched him with that same kind of tenderness?

  “That’s fine with me,” Carrie said. “I’ll come in a minute and make arrangements with Meg’s mom.”

  “Yippee!” Jesse gave her mother a quick one-armed hug and then darted away.

  Jay dropped the sponge into the bucket, threw a cooler over Doolittle’s back and stepped out of the stall. “So you’ll be free tonight,” he stated.

  Carrie looked up at him. Anticipation reflected in the cool blue of her eyes. He couldn’t hide his smile.

  “Have dinner with me.”

  “Dinner?”

  Jay mimicked Carrie’s earlier action with her daughter and moved a piece of hair away from her eyes. The touch caused her cheeks to flush. His fingers tingled, and his heart opened wide. “Yes, dinner. It’s a meal people usually eat in the evening.”

  “I know, silly.” She tried to sound light and casual, but it wasn’t working.

  “Can I pick you up at six?”

  Her eyes shifted as if to study his face, trying to read his motivation. I’m sincere, he wanted to say. Trust me.

  “Yes.” She nodded, holding her breath.

  * * * *

  Dinner with Jay. No, a date with Jay.
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  Carrie glanced across the table at him. How was she going to eat? Her stomach hurt. Her mouth was dry. Her tongue felt furry.

  All around them, the Mexican restaurant buzzed with activity. Carrie ignored it all, concentrating instead on Jay’s intriguing eyes. He sat across from her, his gaze never leaving her face. He smelled of tartly cool lime aftershave and looked handsome in expensive khaki pants, navy blazer, white shirt, and maroon power tie. Carrie bit her lower lip. She stared back at him, watching how the flickering candlelight played games with the laugh lines near his eyes.

  The waitress brought tortilla chips and salsa.

  “Are you a mild or a hot person?” Jay asked, his eyes gleaming.

  She could take the question two ways. Deciding not to misread his intentions, Carrie dipped a chip into the sauce. “I like the mild.”

  He grinned and selected a chip from the bowl. “I like it hot,” he said, scooping up a red glob of sauce from the other bowl.

  “I would expect a person from California would like it hot.”

  He winked. Carrie dropped her gaze, dipping a chip into the bowl and knowing they were talking about more than salsa.

  They ate a few minutes with only the crunching of the chips breaking the silence. The companionship seemed amicable. Unstrained. Carrie wondered about that. This was her first date in a very long time. She was nervous, sure, but excited as well, and flattered by the look of genuine appreciation she saw in Jay’s eyes. Appreciation she had rarely seen in the eyes of her husband.

  “So, where are you from in California?” Carrie asked after a while.

  “Up North,” Jay answered and bit into another chip.

  He didn’t offer further explanation. Carrie shrugged mentally, wondering about his reluctance to talk about himself. Maybe it had something to do with whatever he was hiding, and as Mary had explained, the hard times he was having. Maybe she could get him to talk about that little sister he seemed to love.

  “You said you have a little sister.” She allowed her voice to rise, giving him permission to speak.

  Jay’s eyes lightened. “Gloria. She’s my half sister actually.” He sipped some water and then leaned back to survey her.

  Carrie fought down a blush. It was terrible the way her face betrayed her every response to his sexy eyes.

  “Half sister?”

  “Yes. My father, shall we say, has a way with women.” There was a slight narrowing of his eyes and tenseness in his mouth. “Fortunately, for all his marriages, he’s only fathered two children.”

  “You and Gloria?” Carrie sat forward and rested her arms on the table.

  “Yes.” He nodded. “Gloria is a cute kid, but I’m afraid she’s growing up just like I did.”

  “And how’s that?”

  “Without a father.”

  Carrie dropped her gaze. This was too close to home. Jesse was going to grow up without a father. And there was nothing she could do about it. She felt the familiar pang of regret in her heart.

  “You’re thinking about Jesse.” Jay’s statement left an opening for her response.

  “Yes.” She looked up at him to see compassion now in his eyes.

  “Kids are resilient and can grow up okay without a dad,” he said with a fleeting smile. “Look at me.”

  “But you were just objecting to Gloria not having a father,” Carrie pointed out.

  Jay looked away, took a deep breath and settled his gaze once more on her. “You’re right. Kids need two parents. But look at it this way, Jesse lost her father because he died. Gloria and I still have a dad, one who concentrates on his job or his newest wife, one who conveniently forgets his own kids until he needs us.”

  Carrie heard the bitterness in his voice. “It’s still a loss whether from neglect or because of death,” she said.

  Jay nodded agreement. “Yeah, but the indifference is hard to understand when you’re a kid. Years of indifference hurt more than when my father finally actually disowned me. That was anti-climactic.” He rubbed his jaw and then placed his fist on the table for emphasis. “But I’m a big boy. I can handle it. It’s Gloria I worry about.”

  Carrie reached out and covered his fist. The physical connection with him was like stitching another thread through a piece of embroidery. The picture was far from complete but taking shape. Carrie could imagine him as a small boy—his wide hazel eyes revealing the hurt he felt because of his father’s callousness.

  “How many times has your father been married?”

  “Five. He married the last Mrs. Preston a month ago.”

  “Wow.” Carrie shook her head.

  “Yeah,” he acknowledged. “Wow.”

  “I guess you’ve experienced a lot of loss in your life, because every time he divorced, it was another loss for you.” Carrie sat back, breaking physical contact with him, giving him space.

  “Yes, I suppose so,” Jay reflected. “Yet the hardest loss was when my mom died last year.”

  “I didn’t know.”

  “How could you?” he asked with a shrug. “We haven’t been able to do much talking at the barn.”

  She had to admit Jay was right. She hadn’t known about all the sadness in his life. No wonder Mary said he was down on his luck. No wonder he needed a friend like Mary who would give him a job.

  “How did she die?”

  “Breast cancer.” His voice was muffled.

  “I lost Tate to cancer too.” Tears stained her eyes, and she was unable to stop them. She hadn’t realized how close to the surface her own sorrow lay.

  Married to Tate for ten years, it had been hard to lose him. He had been a loving father and had provided well for them. Although she loved him for that, there had been a distance between them, not a true husband and wife relationship. Tate was never her true love. She had paid for her mistake by trying to make the best of the situation for Jesse’s sake.

  It was Jay’s turn to reach for her hand across the table. “I’m sorry.”

  She smiled through the tears and swiped her other hand across her eyes. “Looks as if we have something in common.”

  “I hope that isn’t the only thing.”

  Their gazes united once more. Carrie drank in the empathy she saw in his eyes. For the first time in a long while, she let herself be comforted—let the human touch soothe her soul. She didn’t have to be strong right now. She didn’t have to hide her grief and regret. Jay understood. Just as she understood his grief.

  The waitress arrived laden with a tray of burritos, refried beans and rice. Carrie sat back, turning her head briefly to wipe more tears from her eyes. When she turned back, Jay was poised to dig into the meal.

  “You okay?”

  “Yes.” Her voice sounded strangely husky.

  “I’m glad. Let’s eat.”

  Jay dived into the meal as if he were a kid eating ice cream. Carrie enjoyed his enthusiasm as much as she savored her own dinner. They talked about the stable, the horses, and the kids. Jesse’s first little horse show was next weekend. One of the biggest horse shows in the country was in Lexington two weeks from now. In the end, he had her laughing. She felt good but completely selfish to indulge herself.

  When the waitress left the bill, Jay pulled out his wallet. Carrie took a final sip of water, her gaze resting intimately on him. She saw his frown. His eyes flickered her way and then retreated to stare at the wallet.

  She sat forward. “Jay, what’s wrong?”

  He pulled a long, white piece of paper from an inside fold and held it up. “I forgot to cash my paycheck, and I don’t carry credit cards.”

  His face flamed with embarrassment, turning as red as his copper-colored hair.

  Chapter Four

  How could he be so stupid? Why had he forgotten to cash his paycheck? Jay’s gut tightened in panic, and he felt his face grow warm. He fumbled through his wallet, knowing he had canceled his credit cards before leaving California in an attempt to start fresh. Now he must confront the truth that he didn’t ha
ve any cash or credit cards. He had to admit to Carrie he didn’t have a way to pay for dinner. Jay took a deep breath and stared at her across the table.

  “I suppose you’ll have to wait while I wash dishes.” He hoped his joke covered his chagrin.

  She gazed back at him, wide-eyed, her lips slightly parted. Jay swallowed with difficulty. She was so damn beautiful.

  “I’ve been so busy since coming to Kentucky that I haven’t opened a checking account or gotten a credit card,” he hurried on to explain.

  Carrie tilted her head and smiled at him with a distinct look of understanding. “And I don’t suppose the restaurant will take your paycheck?”

  “I doubt it.”

  Jay let his gaze connect fully with hers, and he saw the humor in her eyes as well as the warmth.

  “That’s okay. I have a debit card.” Carrie stretched out her hand and covered his.

  “This is embarrassing. I usually have money on me.” He shook his head. “Will you let me borrow some? I’ll pay you back tomorrow.”

  “With interest?”

  Jay lifted an eyebrow. “With double interest.”

  Carrie briefly squeezed his hand and then sat back, as if disconcerted. Was it from the contact? The simple act of touching? Or the fact he’d made such a fool of himself?

  “Fine,” she said. “I suppose you’re a good credit risk.”

  She couldn’t know anything about him, Jay realized, and was just taking him on faith. How ironic. Carrie didn’t understand he was one of the best credit risks around. Trouble was he’d left all that behind in California. He had wanted to get as far away from Preston Computer Corporation as possible.

  A knot constricted in his chest. He wasn’t telling Carrie the truth about himself. That bothered him. Yet wasn’t that what he had wanted? To find a woman who could care for him because of himself? Not because of his money? If he had purposely planned this, he could not have come up with a more perfect test.

  Why did he feel like such a jerk?

  Carrie took the bill, glanced at it and slid her card onto the table. They waited for the waitress to pick it up and return it. Carrie signed the receipt and said, “Come on. Let’s get out of here.”