Waiting For Yes

by Claire Ashgrove

  Through the walls, she heard Margie flush the toilet. The bathroom door creaked open. Footsteps paused in the hall. “C’mon! There’s horses wantin’ breakfast!” Margie clapped her hands sharply.

  “I’ll go,” Jake offered. “I can entertain her while you rest a little longer.”

  Gabrielle sighed in resignation. “No. She’d just come in here and hound me.” With effort, she struggled to sit. The light hurt her itchy eyes, and she rubbed at them to stop their fierce watering. It didn’t help. If anything, they burned worse. Squeezing her eyes shut, she fumbled with the drawer to her nightstand in search of a bottle of Visine.

  Jake’s heavy weight sank her legs into the mattress as he leaned over her. His fingers brushed hers, then grabbed her wrist, and set the bottle in her palm. “I’m sorry I kept you up all night,” he whispered as he nuzzled the side of her neck.

  “No, don’t be.”

  He nipped at her earlobe, chuckling again. “I’m not, sugar. I thought I’d be polite, though.”

  With a short laugh, she pushed him away. The mattress lifted as he crawled out the opposite side of the bed, and she managed to squeeze a few refreshing saline drops into her sandpaper-filled eyes. Two blinks, and her vision cleared. However, the sight of Jake’s broad shoulders and bare back as he yanked on his jeans made her think she’d gone back to dreamland. Corded muscles bunched and pulled, tight sinews that made her stomach quiver as she watched him dress. She knew that body, had kissed every fantastic inch of it at least twice last night. Yet, each time she looked at him, excitement bubbled through her, as if she was seeing him for the first time.

  Feeling bubbled and swelled. “Jake,” she whispered.

  Twisting, his gaze settled on her, those bright blue eyes soft in the morning light.

  A sudden rush of fear skittered through her veins. The need to know he was real, that all this wasn’t just some dream she’d wake up from, gripped her. She lunged to the foot of the bed, rose to her knees, and fisted her hand in his sweatshirt. An insistent tug brought him down to her level, and she captured him in a needy kiss.

  His hands framed her face, his fingertips slid into her hair. He held her in place, returning the kiss with ardent hunger. His tongue delved deep, the velvety strokes possessive. The scrape of his whiskers chafed her chin, her cheeks. His mouth was hard, insistent, and yet, beneath the rough assault lay tenderness.

  He broke away, and his gaze locked with hers. In the heartbeat that hung between them, the fleeting moment before his lazy smile shattered the intensity, she caught a glimmer of emotion. Something fierce that made her stomach tumble hard.

  Real.

  “Gabrielle Warrenton, get up and see to your guest.”

  “Get dressed, sugar,” Jake whispered, his voice thick, hoarser than normal.

  Too unsteady to form words, she nodded and dropped back on her heels.

  “I’ll get you some coffee.”

  ****

  Jake pulled the bedroom door closed as he stepped into the hall. With a quick glance to make certain Margie wasn’t lurking close by, he leaned one shoulder against the wall and sucked in a shaky breath. In all his adulthood, he’d never experienced the kind of earth-moving feeling that solitary kiss had evoked. All night, he’d made love to her. All night, he’d let her crawl beneath the protective layer around his heart. Even then, he hadn’t felt the ridiculous need to confess love. But the kiss… That damn kiss had almost wrenched words out he didn’t dare consider, let alone say.

  Impossible. He couldn’t love Gabrielle. Not in such a short time. Not when he had to leave her. Not when the goddamn horse that killed his mother stood in her paddock. No, it was just a product of too much sex and too little sleep. Just mixed-up feeling that had nothing to do with love. Lust maybe. No, not a maybe at all. Hell, he got hard just watching her sit up in bed. He’d tried to quench that unmanageable reaction by exhausting both of them last night, but evidently, it hadn’t worked.

  He didn’t love her. The woman he’d love would be a city-dwelling creature who dressed in the latest fashion and went to the spa on a weekly basis. She would be trendy and modern, with a penchant for apartment life. She absolutely would not like horses.

  No, what he felt for Gabrielle was desire.

  Convinced of the logic, he nodded to himself and shoved away from the wall. Time to meet this Margie. She’d at least serve as a much-needed distraction for a few hours. If nothing else, he could let the two girls chat and escape to the barns for some solitude. If the roads were clear enough for Margie to venture out, then he needed to put some thought into how he intended to leave Gabrielle. More correctly, how he intended to tell her he wasn’t coming back.

  And he needed to get a tow truck. Despite the fact his cargo was probably frozen and ruined, he had to hit the road. The longer he stayed here, the more difficult it would be on her. He couldn’t be that selfish. This had gone far enough. Time to put on some brakes, shift gears into low, and roll in neutral until his transmission was fixed. If he didn’t pull back now, he’d only be an asshole.

  God help him, he didn’t want Gabrielle remembering him like that.

  He pushed a hand through his hair and wandered down the hall. The scent of brewing coffee greeted his nose, combined with the sound of grease sizzling in a pan. His stomach growled in anticipation. Small wonder since he’d left his dinner half-eaten.

  “Mornin’,” he greeted the tall brunette’s back as he sidled past her and reached for a coffee mug.

  “Good morning. You must be Jake?”

  He flashed her a sideways grin before focusing on pouring his coffee. “And you must be Margie.” To his consternation, his hand shook, spilling the hot coffee onto the counter. What the hell was the matter with him? It was one kiss. One breathtaking, soul-revealing kiss, but one kiss all the same. This unsteadiness had to go.

  He took a deep drink and leaned against the counter, bringing his gaze to Margie once again. She smiled brightly, her features animated as she gestured at the table. “Have a seat. I’m making eggs.”

  God help him, he couldn’t move. Could only stand there, cup half-raised to his lips as he stared at Gabrielle’s best friend. That upturned nose looked familiar. The wire-rimmed glasses on her face brought back a memory of a younger woman. One who oozed enthusiasm and asked Dr. Rameriz countless questions as the older veterinarian looked down into a microscope.

  Recognition slammed into his gut. Holy fuck. No. Impossible. She’d interned with the repro vet in Houston. They’d met many times when he took in Shannon Cooper’s champion stallion, Abu Nazreeahl, for collection and shipping. No, no, no!

  He knew the moment she put two and two together and made the same association. Her smile faltered, her bright violet eyes turned cool and reserved. She opened her mouth to speak, and he cringed, waiting for her to make a remark that would condemn him forever with Gabrielle.

  Thankfully, her words stopped short as Gabrielle trudged into the kitchen. She covered a yawn as she ducked under Jake’s arm and opened the cabinet to fish for a mug. “Morning, Margie. Jake, this is my best friend, Margie Simmons. Margie, this is Jake Sullivan.”

  Margie’s gaze narrowed. He held his breath, waiting for the inevitable. She’d correct Gabrielle. Tell her his name was Lindsay-Sullivan. And all hell would break loose.

  To his utter surprise, she turned back to the stove and cracked an egg. Thank God for small miracles.

  “So, Jake,” Margie began slowly. “What do you think of Ransom, Kansas?”

  “Haven’t seen much really. This snow’s put a damper on sightseeing.”

  Gabrielle leaned against him, and he draped his arm around her shoulder.

  “What are you doing here, Margie?” Gabrielle asked. Her voice held an uncharacteristic edge that had Jake tamping down a rush of amusement.

  “I came to see this crazy horse you told me about.” She flipped an egg. “And to meet Jake.” She flipped another egg. “And to get warm. I’ve been running about with
my coat and gloves on. That house gets cold fast, without the furnace.”

  Another flip of her wrist, and she piled three eggs on a plate. She passed it to Jake. As she held his gaze a moment too long, he read the silent look of accusation. Great. This wasn’t how he intended to tell Gabrielle the truth. In fact, he didn’t plan on telling her the truth at all, damn it. He hadn’t, however, counted on encountering someone he knew out here in the middle of nowhere, Kansas. Shit!

  Pursing his lips, he moved to the table, turned his back on the two women, and began to eat. Mouth full, he couldn’t make conversation.

  Gabrielle joined him at the table, a frown marring her pretty face. She queried him with a lifted eyebrow. He ignored it.

  “So your…truck…broke down?”

  He nodded, managing around his food, “Yeah.”

  “That wouldn’t be the rig Adam Neely was complaining about having to plow around on 283 would it?”

  “The same.”

  Margie slid a plate of eggs in front of Gabrielle, who thanked her with a nod.

  Silence descended on them as Jake concentrated on his food. Half of him wanted to escape to the barn, but he’d rather walk into a pit of vipers than leave Margie alone with Gabrielle. If his secrets had to come out, he’d be the one to reveal them. Not her.

  A few moments later, Margie took a seat at his right. She looked between him and Gabrielle as if trying to decipher some underlying secret. With a curious cock of her head, she turned her gaze on him. “So how’d you learn to stitch a horse…Jake?”

  He swore to himself. She obviously wasn’t going to let this ride smoothly. But he’d be damned if he let her goad him into a conversation he wasn’t ready to have. With a casual shrug, he answered, “Watched the vet a time or two when I was younger.”

  “So you grew up with horses then?”

  Son of a bitch. She was trying to trap him between lies. He had to give her credit—she didn’t give up easily.

  “He worked with horses in his twenties,” Gabrielle answered on his behalf.

  Margie nodded sagely. “I see. I’ll be anxious to see your handiwork.”

  Oh, to hell with it. If it had to come out, he’d rather get it over with than let it brew. He pushed his empty plate aside and rose to his feet. “Thanks for breakfast, ma’am. I think I’m going to go throw those horses some hay.”

  Gabrielle’s head snapped up, and she tossed him a look of confusion. “I can do that. I thought you’d want to take the truck and get your bag now that the roads are clearer.”

  “That sounds like a wonderful idea,” Margie rushed to agree. She stood up with such force, she nearly knocked her chair over backward. “I’ll run you over to your rig. My truck’s still warm. Gabrielle, you feed your horses, and then both of you can show me this stallion. I’d like to hear what Jake thinks.”

  “No you wouldn’t,” Jake and Gabrielle answered simultaneously.

  Their gazes met as they laughed. Jake bent down and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek, then tucked a lock of her long, red hair behind her ear. She returned his gesture of affection with a smile that soothed the unease coiled around his gut.

  “Is that okay with you, Jake?” Gabrielle asked.

  Perfect as far as he was concerned. He could corner Margie in the truck and buy some time before he had to spill his guts. Besides, it sure beat the hell out of leaving the two women alone together.

  “Sounds good. You be careful out there, sugar.”

  Through clenched teeth she answered in a sing-song voice, “Always am.”

  Too late he remembered she hated being told what to do. He took a mental note to put more care into how he phrased his words. Had that been a question, he felt certain she wouldn’t have turned as stiff as a board.

  He nodded to Margie. “Let me get my boots.”

  “Of course.” Her sugary-sweet smile sent a wave of dark foreboding washing through his blood.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  The truck moved at an ant’s pace over the snow and ice-covered road. Jake stared straight forward, his gaze glued on his distant rig. From the corner of his eye, he caught Margie turn her head his way. She blew out a breath that stirred her short bangs and repositioned her hands.

  Here it comes. His chest tightened uncomfortably.

  “So why are you lying to my best friend?”

  Incredulous, he blinked at her. “I’m not lying.”

  “Okay.” She reached over and turned the heat down. “Not lying. But not being truthful either. Why haven’t you told her who you are?”

  He stayed silent for a while, chewing on the question. He couldn’t very well confide in Margie if he couldn’t bring himself to trust Gabrielle at that level. Even if he could find the words to explain without sounding like a scared, abandoned child, Margie didn’t deserve to hear them first.

  At the same time, he couldn’t expect Gabrielle’s best friend to accept his silence. If their relationship were anything like his understanding of female closeness in general, she’d turn into a pit bull to defend Gabrielle. Women were like Marines—in the face of danger, they never left a man behind. And to Margie, Gabrielle had landed herself in the middle of a great covert mission. Not that he could blame her for that perception, necessarily. He’d probably look at things in the same fashion.

  And if he’d had a sister, he’d have come unglued on the asshole who hadn’t been truthful to her. If it had been his mother—as it had been on occasion growing up—he’d have taken a fist to the lying bastard’s nose.

  How in the hell did a guy tell a woman’s best friend he didn’t plan to stick around? Particularly when it was glaringly obvious the woman was smitten with him? He expelled a frustrated breath and sank into the passenger’s seat.

  “It isn’t easy, Margie. I’ll tell her. Just give me time to work it out. I don’t have that right to ask, maybe, but I am.”

  She unwound her fingers, then rewrapped them on the steering wheel. “Let me make this clear. I will tell her if you don’t.”

  Jake nodded as he sat up once again. “I’ll take care of it.” Changing the subject, he asked, “Care to tell me why she’s so grumpy about her parents?”

  “I shouldn’t.” She tapped on the brakes as they approached a patch of packed snow that glinted with a fine sheen of ice.

  “That’s fair,” Jake conceded. But unwilling to accept her evasiveness, he asked, “Would you anyway?”

  She navigated around the ice and inched further down the road. His truck waited about six hundred yards away. Abandoned, it gave off a ghostly appearance, and gloomily he noticed the snowplow had blocked the entire driver’s side door. On the passenger’s side, a good three, maybe four-foot bank barred him from easy access. Damn. Soaked and cold hadn’t been in his plans for the day.

  “Oh, why not. But if you tell her I told you…” She glanced his way with a pointed lift of her eyebrows.

  He waved his hand dismissively.

  “It’s not really her parents. More specifically her father. She’s done everything she can to try and please that man, and in all the years I’ve known her, I can’t remember ever hearing him praise her.”

  Interested, Jake twisted in the seat to look at her more fully. “That’s why she left Arizona?”

  Margie nodded. “He’s always treated her like a child. She’d try to think for herself, make decisions with the horses she owned, and he’d shut her down before her idea ever had a chance to take flight. She had some real nice horses back at home. Could have done a lot and given her father’s barn a new direction, if he’d given her half a chance.”

  One word stood out among her explanation. He repeated it, incredulous. “Had?”

  With another slow nod, Margie affirmed, “Her father refused to let her take them with her when she left. Her name’s on their papers still, and he made a huge scene when she got them ready to ship. She got away with three before he noticed what she was doing—Ghazanfar, Rajiv, and Maisa. Then he erupted and disowned her.”r />
  Jake blinked, then blinked again. Eyes wide, he stared at Margie in disbelief. “Disowned her? For taking horses she owned?”

  “For leaving, period. Out here, he can’t control her.”

  He shook his head slowly. “That’s really the truth of it? Not just emotionally charged exaggeration?”

  Her frown warned he was treading on touchy ground. “It’s really the truth of it, Jake. And that horse she brought home—the stallion you stitched up—she’s got her hopes riding on him. He’s the only chance she sees to prove to her father she knows what she’s doing in the world of breeding.”

  Jake’s stomach hollowed out. Shit, no wonder she’d been so upset. And here he was, like a certifiable asshole, trying to plot a way to convince her to put Mamoon down. God, no two people could be at such distinctly crossed purposes. He couldn’t look at the horse without thinking of his past, and she couldn’t see the future without the horse. Son of a bitch.

  Margie eased to a stop in front of his rig. All too anxious to be free of the sudden oppressiveness in her pickup, he jumped out into the frosty air and took a deep breath. His throat closed with the frigid inhalation. Gabrielle needed that horse like he needed to be far away from it. And the horse—well, that was the random in the equation. Whether he’d pull himself together enough to become what she hoped for, only God could control that outcome.

  Experience didn’t cast a favorable light on her odds.

  He mounted the heaped snow, scrambled over the top, and made it to the other side with little mishap. Grabbing the sturdy handle mounted on the side of the cab, he hauled himself onto the running board and fished out his keys to open the door. The scent of strawberry poured out, making him wrinkle his nose. He should have tossed that air freshener the first time he’d nearly gagged on the sickeningly-sweet aroma. Annoyed, he snatched the hanging deodorizer off his rear view mirror and pitched it over his shoulder.

  He crawled inside and over the seats. In the back of the cab, he looked around. Home sweet home. His bed was still unmade, his pillow bunched up in the corner. A scattering of CDs and DVDs cluttered his floor, half-covered by a pair of grubby jeans. Good thing Gabrielle wasn’t with him. She’d take one look at this mess and brand him a slob.