Waiting For Yes

by Claire Ashgrove

  A rush of warmth tumbled around in her veins at the memory, and her heart skipped a beat.

  With a casual air, he pushed off the doorframe and slowly approached. His grin spread wider the nearer he came. One knee settled on the bed. The mattress shifted with his weight, rolling her closer to him. He let out a chuckle as he plucked her arm away from her face and laid it down by her side.

  Warily, she held his gaze, watched as he leaned over her.

  Setting his hands on both sides of her shoulders, Jake lowered his upper body until it touched hers. He dropped his head, and with another chuckle, nipped the tip of her nose. “Did you know we’re snowed in?”

  She couldn’t help herself. His ridiculous question erased her sour mood and freed a playful grin. “Are we?”

  “Mm, we are.” He nuzzled her cheek, his breath stirring the hair at her temple.

  Damn, the man knew how to make her melt. Was this some tactic designed to bend her to his wishes? A coy attempt to seduce Mamoon’s papers out of her perhaps?

  His lips closed around her earlobe. His teeth gave it a little tug. Goose bumps rippled down her arms, and she fought the instinctive urge to roll closer, to turn her head and capture him in a kiss.

  “Didn’t you say you had horses to water?” he whispered against her throat.

  Gabrielle swallowed as his mouth skimmed down her neck, inched to her collarbone. The subtle scratch of whiskers he hadn’t shaved sent a chill rolling down her spine, and she let out a soft giggle. “Yes.”

  Jake rocked back on his palms and lifted his head to gaze down at her. “Then why don’t we do that instead of all this arguing?”

  With a groan, she closed her eyes. “I can’t. I have no water. I’m going to have to turn them all out in the field and let them get to the pond.” Looking at him once more, she returned his lazy smile.

  “What about the stallion?”

  “Mamoon or Rajiv?”

  Something she couldn’t recognize passed across his face. But as he blinked, it vanished. One dark eyebrow shot up, and he cocked his head. “You have two?”

  “Yes. Rajiv can go in his paddock. There’s a huge stock tank there that always freezes over on the top, but he knows how to break the ice. It won’t get solid for another day or two.”

  “And…” He paused, his blue eyes flickering dark for an instant. “Mamoon? What about him?”

  She considered her options, visualizing the various enclosures she’d created for turn out and exercise. With a heavy sigh of resignation, she shook her head. “I guess I’ll have to put him in the paddock adjoining Rajiv’s. It’s the only place. The stock tank is split between the two, and I don’t dare turn him out with the entire herd. I’ve got last fall’s foals in with the mares and geldings.”

  “They’ll fight.”

  Most stallions would. At least if mares were present. But while Mamoon might start something over the fence, Rajiv wouldn’t reciprocate. The only time other stallions altered his easy-going nature was if he had to share physical space with them. He’d wander off, bored, after a few assertive squeals.

  “It’s all I can do.”

  Shifting to sit on the bed, Jake pulled her upright. His brow furrowed as he clasped her hands in his. His thumbs worked lazy circles over her wrists. “You’re out here in the middle of nowhere, and you don’t have a generator?”

  Heat rose to her cheeks. She averted her gaze and stared down at her lap. “I have one, but I never let Jonas finish installing it. It’s in the garage.”

  He gave her a decisive nod. “Well then, let’s get those horses outside, throw them some hay, and see what we can do about your generator. I’m guessing there’s a good fifteen inches of snow out there, and those skies are still spitting. I don’t know about you, but I can’t do day after day without a hot meal.”

  “I can’t ask you to do that, Jake. You’ve done so much already.”

  He set his fingers beneath her chin and tipped her face up. “I’m pretty sure what I heard was me offering, and not you asking.”

  Still, his offer made her feel as if she were taking advantage of him. She should have prepared better. Should have anticipated a freak snowstorm and had Jonas hook up the damn thing last fall. If Jake kept doing nice things to help her out, she’d never find ways to repay him or show him her gratitude.

  Leaning forward, he feathered his mouth over hers. Teasing, yet at the same time, full of purpose. “I’m waiting for yes, sugar.”

  Her mouth twitched with a grin. “You’re going to have to keep waiting too. No way am I saying yes about that.”

  “In that case”—he let out another husky chuckle as he rose to his feet and pulled her along with him—“I guess we’d better get going.”

  Halfway out the bedroom door, Jake came to an abrupt halt. He twisted around with a frown. “I want you to promise me something.”

  “Oh?”

  “Let me handle getting that nutty horse outside.”

  A fission of annoyance filtered through her veins. Determined not to read too much into his request and to believe the concern etched into his features was genuine, she shoved her defensiveness aside. Jake wanted to help. Wanted to protect her. She couldn’t remember a time when anyone she’d dated—not even Tony Drutherson—had worried about her.

  Maybe she ought to stop fighting this chivalrous side Jake possessed. She might like it. It had to be better than the indifferent attitude most men treated her to.

  Unable to verbalize her consent, she answered with a slow nod. She’d let him play his noble part once more before she set her foot down and insisted he stay away from the horse before he got himself hurt.

  Stallions like Mamoon weren’t made for ordinary horse people. They required years of expertise Jake simply didn’t have.

  But today, she’d pretend he did and let him pamper her as he seemed to want to.

  Chapter Twelve

  Years ago, Jake had learned the quickest way to appease a wealthy, temperamental client was to do a little sweet-talking. He’d gotten more clients to come around to his way of seeing things, to agree to his training decisions by working with them, than his mother had by stubbornly setting her foot down and refusing to discuss alternate options.

  Gabrielle proved no different. He wanted to see those papers, but given her angry response, being bullheaded over the issue wouldn’t get him anywhere. Offer to make her work a little easier for her, remove some of her burden with the weather, and she was all honey and sweetness. Just like every other spoiled, rich horsewoman he’d met.

  He followed her through the snow, fully anticipating to buck a dozen or so hay bales through the drifts and carry on a casual conversation while she lounged, content to watch. Pity the trainer she eventually hired. She’d want everything her way, and it would take a strong personality to deal with that kind of attitude. A young aspiring trainer would quit a few weeks in. A seasoned veteran would come to blows with her daily.

  Thank God, he’d left that intolerable world. He could put up with a few days of play-acting until his truck was running and he could get out of here. But once he hit the road, he wouldn’t look back. No horsewomen. Ever.

  Besides, his complacency now would pay off in the long run. When he verified Sheffield had swindled her, one phone call to his attorney back home would take care of the loose ends. The written statement that bound Sheffield to euthanizing Mamoon could easily ruin the bastard. And Jake would stop at nothing to see that damned horse dead. He owed his mother that much.

  Opening the door for Gabrielle, he stepped aside and let her enter the barn first. Rather than taking a seat on the nearby hay, she surprised him by yanking a hay hook off the wall and stabbing it into a bale. Without so much as a grunt, she tugged on the handle and pulled the square off the waist-high stack. It fell to her feet. She said nothing as she turned around and dragged the bale out the narrow opening and down the aisle.

  He moved to the doorway to watch.

  She tripped over the thick
layer of shavings that covered the floor, but managed to half-drag, half-jerk the tightly baled alfalfa mix to the far end. At the wide, rolling slider opposite the one they’d unloaded through last night, she flipped the metal latches, settled her weight in her legs, and shoved for all her might.

  The door rolled sideways about six inches.

  She braced a foot against a stall. Another push gained a little ground. A second heave allowed a velvety black nose to poke in from the opposite side, but the opening wasn’t large enough to let even her small size through.

  He hurried down to assist.

  With a mighty shove, he pushed the door through the heavy snowdrifts on the opposite side, and the barn filled with faint light. Beyond the door, a single horse pranced its way into the barn.

  “Ghazanfar,” Gabrielle scolded, her voice laced with a touch of laughter. “You’re not supposed to jump the fence.” She walked up to the horse, grabbed a fistful of mane near the base of its ears, and slowly turned the horse around toward the door.

  “Fence jumper? She okay?”

  “He.” She flashed him a grin over her shoulder. “And he’s fine. The fence is only about two and a half foot high where he lives. I usually let him in the barn when I do chores. He’s a big pet.”

  Big pet described him perfectly. As Jake watched, the black horse rubbed his head against Gabrielle’s shoulder, content to let her lead him where she desired without assistance from a halter or lead. Outside the barn, he waited patiently while she swung herself onto his bare back and guided him through the tall drifts to a low fence about fifteen feet behind the barn. With a deer’s grace he popped over the two lower rails and stopped, not moving so much as his tail as Gabrielle dismounted.

  She turned to him, patted his shoulder, and kissed his neck. “Stay here. Breakfast is coming.”

  As if he understood, the horse bobbed his head. He approached the low fence rails, bumped them with his knees, but made no attempt to follow her back into the barn.

  “Why go to the trouble of putting him out there if he can step over that fence?” Jake asked as he reached for the hay bale before Gabrielle could grab it. He hefted it onto his shoulder and trudged through the snow. “Does he get the whole thing?”

  “Yeah. And he’s waiting on Maisa. She stays inside at night, and they usually spend the day together. He won’t challenge that fence if I’m on schedule.”

  “Really?” That sounded too fantastic to believe. Surely, the horse came and went, and she just didn’t notice the times he hung out behind the barn when she wasn’t paying attention. He heaved the bale into the paddock.

  Gabrielle grinned. “Really. I’ve spent hours in the barn, and he just doesn’t. As long as Maisa is around when she’s supposed to be, he stays out in the field.”

  Returning to the barn, Jake gazed at Gabrielle curiously. He’d worked with a lot of horses, and though he’d met several Arabians who’d surprised him with their intelligence, that strained the limits. Horses weren’t like trained dogs. Sit and stay weren’t part of their vocabulary.

  “Where’s this Maisa then? I’ll put her out for you.”

  She shook her head. “Maisa is a bit…temperamental. She won’t let anyone but me touch her.”

  Gabrielle grabbed a halter off a closed stall door, rolled it open, and stepped inside. Seconds later, she reappeared, leading a tall, sleek bay who sported a heavyweight burgundy blanket. The mare’s large, expressive eyes offset a sharply dished nose, and her ears flattened as Gabrielle led her closer.

  Jake stepped back, more than happy to give the mare room.

  Maisa swished her tail in annoyance as she passed, swatting him square in the chest. But she followed Gabrielle quietly, her ears pricking up once more as Ghazanfar whinnied.

  “Who else goes out and where?” he called after her.

  “I have to take the hay out first. I just needed to get these two out of the way.”

  Feeling rather useless, Jake shoved his hands in his pockets. “Tell me how to help.”

  Lead rope draped over her shoulder, Gabrielle returned to the barn. She gave him a soft smile. “Behind the barn to the right is the gate to the large pasture. It’s the red gate, not the green one. We need to put about ten bales out.”

  Easy enough. He marched back to the feed room and began knocking bales from the stack onto the ground. Behind him, Gabrielle snagged one with her hay hook and dragged it through the doorway.

  “Gabrielle,” he called as she disappeared into the aisle.

  She poked her head around the corner. “Yeah?”

  “If you take those to the end of the barn, I’ll get them to the pasture. That snow’s awful deep.”

  For a moment, he thought she’d object. But with a curt nod, she vanished again, then reappeared a few minutes later to hook another bale.

  After tugging ten bales off the stack of a hundred or so, Jake stuffed his fingers beneath the strings on two, and hefted them off the ground. He wobbled a moment, their heavy weight awkward as they banged into his knees. When he regained his footing, he trudged down the shavings-laden aisle, bypassed Gabrielle’s neat pile, and marched through the snow to the pasture. There, he tossed the bales well to the side of the gate, popped the strings, and hurried back inside.

  “Damn, that wind’s fierce.” He blew into his ungloved hands, then rubbed them together to generate some heat.

  Behind him, Mamoon pummeled the back of the barn with his rear hooves. Jake summoned his willpower with a deep breath. He ignored the instinctive urge to investigate what the beast was doing now. Soon enough he’d have to deal with that maniac.

  Gabrielle bent over to lug a bale outside. But when she encountered the first few inches of snow, the bale stopped short, refusing to slide another inch. Without waiting for her to ask, Jake grabbed the bale and hauled it out to the pasture. Half a dozen more trips, and he had all the hay appropriately laid out.

  “Next?” He flashed her a grin. At least the effort had generated heat. He was sweating beneath his heavy jacket.

  “Horses. Everyone goes out, except the stallions.” As she talked, she opened another stall and ducked inside. “Rajiv is in the first stall on the left. You know Mamoon.”

  Eyeing a yearling inside the stall to his left, Jake reached for a halter. When he grabbed for the handle, Gabrielle led her mare out, and Jake stopped short. He’d seen more than one beautiful Arabian. Had worked with several of the best, proudly earning National, as well as World championships. But the refined bay in Gabrielle’s hand had him sucking in a sharp breath.

  Four tall white stockings offset a deep, blood-bay coat. Long, clean legs fit into an elegant, but strongly muscled body. As she walked past, he took quick note of her exceptional conformation—hocks not too close together, her body divided neatly into near-perfect thirds, nice sloping shoulder, and incredibly chiseled features. Her head was nothing less than breathtaking.

  “Damn, she’s beautiful,” he murmured.

  Gabrielle flashed him a bright smile. “She’s my prize.”

  She ought to be too. Where the hell had she found that mare? He could only imagine what kind of price came with her. Good God.

  “A good breeding farm is only as good as its mares.” Gabrielle spoke more loudly as she rounded the back of the barn. Her voice cut through the icy breeze as she yelled from outside, “The best stallions won’t fix poor mares. And breeding should only occur when there’s reason to reproduce mare and stallion.”

  A flicker of annoyance sparked in his gut. He didn’t need to hear a lecture on breeding practices. But he tamped the feeling down as quickly as it surfaced. He held the fault here. He’d created the lie about his experience. Blaming her for talking down to him wasn’t fair.

  He hurried to halter the youngster and led the horse outside. While he walked, he surreptitiously eyed the filly at his right. Fine bones. Grace. Feminine traits. Though she had a lot of growing up to do, already he could see her potential. Damn, Gabrielle knew her stuff.
<
br />   Then again, he shouldn’t expect any less. In the world of Arabians, the Warrenton name spoke for itself.

  ****

  As they ushered her mares and foals to the pasture, Gabrielle watched Jake handle her horses. Though she’d attributed his earlier triumph with Mamoon to luck, the more she paid attention, the more she realized that whatever experience he’d had in youth, he’d retained. He knew horses.

  When her eight-month-old colt blew up at his first sight of snow, Jake quickly calmed the animal by drawing his attention on moving forward instead of giving him time to consider the powdery stuff beneath his hooves. When her seasoned broodmare, who loved to play in the snow, tried to turn her butt and take off before he had her unhaltered, he deftly took control of the situation. He soothed her, worked off her halter, and expertly side-stepped an exuberant buck. When her youngest mare came to a screeching halt at the back of the barn and refused to take a single step forward, he coerced her with a soft voice, gentle hands, and steady pressure, thus gaining her confidence, and her obedience.

  It was as if he inherently understood what it took to appease each different personality. Talent. Not the stuff learned, but the ingrained nature required to really get along with horses. Yes, someone had taught him the basics, but whatever else he’d learned, it came with a large degree of natural ability.

  Jake had potential. The kind that could take him to bigger, better places than driving a truck ever would.

  After the last mare was turned out, he stopped in front of her, wearing a boyish smile. Snow collected in his dark hair, dotted the tops of his shoulders. Despite how her legs burned from trudging through the snow, the short rise and fall of his chest was the only indication of his fatigue. She fought down an urge to run her fingers through his hair and scatter the damp lengths. Lord, he was handsome. Even in the barn’s muted light, her body didn’t fail to jump up and take notice. One grin, and her stomach pitched around like corn kernels over a hot fire.