Waiting For Yes

by Claire Ashgrove

  Jake leaned forward, and for the first time since they’d climbed into her pickup, he touched her. He grabbed her hand between both of his and kissed the back of her knuckles. “Please, Gabrielle.” Urgency fringed his voice. “Take Rajiv. Leave Mamoon at home. Rajiv can be everything you need. Maybe he’s not straight Egyptian, but he can build you a breeding program that is every bit as respectable.”

  “Jake, what are you talking about? You taught me what to do with Mamoon. We went over it again this morning. I have to take Mamoon.”

  “No, you don’t, sugar.”

  She shot him a frown as she turned onto the exit ramp. “Don’t be absurd, Jake. I didn’t buy the horse so he could sit in my barn uselessly. He has to go to Scottsdale. We’ll be fine. I have you to call and ask for advice if I need it, and, with a little luck, you’ll be able to rearrange your route and join us in a couple weeks.”

  His gaze flickered, jumping sideways before it settled back on hers. “Yeah.”

  She looked to the road, desperate to ignore the bright peal of warning sirens that followed his noncommittal response. Her fingers tightened on the wheel, her knuckles turning white with her forceful grip. “You will help me if I need it, won’t you?”

  The silence hung between them, a pause that defined pregnant as Jake shuffled around in his seat. Gabrielle tried for short laugh, and forced herself to flash him a smile. “I’m waiting for yes.”

  He didn’t laugh. His mouth didn’t even twitch. “Yeah.” He dropped her hand and scooted back into the corner. “I might hit some rough spots where I don’t have signal for a while. If you can’t reach me, leave a message.”

  The sirens blared louder. So non-commital. So terrifyingly distant. What the hell had happened between last night and now? She bit down on her lower lip to stop the sudden rush of tears as the silence engulfed them once again.

  Her stomach churned, nausea grabbing on fierce as she nosed into the aging repair shop’s parking lot. She brought her truck to a stop, killed the engine, and dropped the keys into her lap.

  Say something, she begged quietly.

  But Jake didn’t. He slowly lifted his head and brought his unsettling gaze to hers. She swiveled to face him more fully. In slow motion, he leaned forward. One thick palm framed the side of her face. His eyes searched hers, emotion flickering behind their sky blue depths. Sorrow, regret, and affection stared back at her as his thumb caressed her cheek. “Be safe, Gabrielle,” he whispered.

  She closed her eyes against a storm of sorrow. Instinct filtered through her hope, and in the half-second of time that passed before his other hand came up to join the first, she knew. This wasn’t a temporary goodbye. Jake intended on driving away forever. A sob bubbled in the back of her throat, threatening to strangle her.

  Before it tore free, Jake’s mouth settled against hers. He nudged her lips apart, inviting himself inside. Softly, slowly, he explored. Roused her awareness until the reality of his departure gave way to striking tenderness. She responded to the familiar feeling he awakened, her body tightening with an anxious surge of energy.

  He held her in place, seemingly content to kiss her until time stood still. In the quiet, she caught the hard fall of his breath. Beneath her fingertips, his heart hammered fierce. His mouth took on a more demanding quality as he slid one hand into her hair and curled his fingers against her scalp.

  A sound of pleasure vibrated in his throat, and Jake drew the kiss to a lingering close. He touched his forehead to hers, then sucked in a deep breath. “Win for me, sugar.”

  Before she could gather her senses and respond, the passenger’s door slammed shut. Panic flooded her. He couldn’t walk away. That kiss alone said things she’d longed to hear. He cared for her. She loved him. He couldn’t just turn his back on all that.

  Jamming her hand against the handle, she shoved open the door and jumped out. “Jake!”

  Five feet away, he turned around. His duffle bag knocked into the back of his thighs. He dropped the bag and jogged back to her. His mouth crashed into hers, hard and hungry. His hands were everywhere, touching, massaging, caressing with the same urgency that coursed through her veins. She clung to him, held on as if she could will him to stay.

  But it ended before she succeeded. With effort, Jake pried her hands free from his neck and stepped back. He brushed a chaste kiss across her mouth and murmured, “I have to go.”

  Gabrielle nodded. There was nothing she could say, nothing she could do. She wouldn’t beg—he already knew where she wanted him. She couldn’t force him to feel something he didn’t, and she wouldn’t throw herself at him only to be humiliated. Tears welled as she climbed into the truck and shut the door. When she looked up again, Jake’s back was to her, his head ducked against the chilly wind.

  She waited until he entered the office and shut the door. Then, with an anguished sob, she dropped the truck into reverse and navigated out of the parking lot.

  ****

  Gabrielle sat in the dim light of her study. The television flashed soundlessly, a blurry scene of late evening news stories. Her face felt swollen from all the crying she’d given over to. She’d wept until she couldn’t summon another tear. Now, numbness settled around her. Jake was gone. He’d waltzed into her life, captured her in a whirlwind, and sailed back out completely immune to the effect he had on her. He’d used her. Said pretty things to keep her complacent and willing while he was forced to share space with her, and the moment freedom arrived, he leaped at it. She’d been nothing but a brief pastime. Just another girl.

  And she’d known the folly of letting herself care. She’d let it happen anyway. She dropped her head on the back of her armchair and closed her eyes. How stupid could she be? One snowstorm, and she’d created a dream-come-true romance out of nothing more than sexual desire. Only naïve young girls fell victim to men like Jake.

  The slamming of her back door brought her upright in a flash. Her heart leaped to her throat, hope burning bright. Jake? Had he come back after all? Oh, God, please.

  “Gabrielle?” Margie’s voice carried down the hall.

  Gabrielle slumped back in the chair. Jake wouldn’t come back. If she allowed herself to think he might, she’d only hurt worse. It was over. Whatever they’d shared had come to a devastating end. “In here.”

  “What are you doing in the dark? I came by after the clinic closed to take the both of you into town for a beer or two. Where’s Jake?” Margie flipped on the light and glanced around.

  “Gone.”

  Margie’s expression washed with shock. Her eyes widened at the same time her mouth dropped open. “What do you mean gone?”

  Annoyed, Gabrielle pushed herself out of the chair to her feet. “I mean gone. It’s over. He’s on the road. I was stupid and got tangled up with the wrong guy.”

  She pushed past Margie, intending to retreat to the comfort of her room. Halfway down the hall, she stopped. In her room lurked memories. Visions of Jake spread out across her bed, his powerful frame taking up a good half and his smile beckoning him to join her, flashed in her mind. Not the bedroom. Never again. She reached for the handle on the guest room’s door.

  Margie caught her elbow, halting her attempt to flee. “What happened? What are you talking about? Jake’s nuts about you.”

  Gabrielle let out a disbelieving snort. “I don’t want to discuss it. He’s gone. He’s not coming back. And that’s that. I’ve got to focus on this show.”

  Seventeen years of friendship kept Margie silent. Gabrielle knew she wouldn’t push for more information, not until Gabrielle offered some sign that she wanted to discuss what had happened. And talking about Jake wasn’t anything she intended to do until the wounds on her heart scabbed over.

  She barged into the guest room and made a beeline for the closet where her show clothes hung. Grabbing at the plastic-covered garments, she gathered them up and tossed them on the bed.

  “When do you have to leave?” Margie asked in a quiet voice. Her watchful stare fol
lowed Gabrielle around the room as she paced between closet and bed.

  “I have nine days, and I can’t do this alone. Will you help me?” She braved a glance Margie’s way. Her best friend’s expression softened with compassion, and something too close to pity for Gabrielle to embrace. She didn’t want Margie’s pity.

  “I don’t know. It’s been so long since I’ve shown a horse, Gabrielle.”

  “Well, you’re going to have to learn. I need you. Rajiv has to go in the ring with Mamoon, and I need a second handler. Rajiv knows the ropes. You can handle him.” She turned a pleading look on her best friend.

  Margie’s shoulders heaved with a sigh. “If I say no, you’ll hate me forever.”

  With a chuckle, Gabrielle nodded. “You’re right. C’mon, let’s go out to the barn. I’ll show you what Jake taught me to do.” Her bout of depression temporarily tempered, she grabbed Margie’s hand and dragged her into the kitchen where she stopped to don her coat. With an impatient hand gesture, she beckoned Margie to follow.

  In the barn, the horses nickered as Gabrielle flicked on the light. Two hours after evening chores, the snoozing equines protested her noisy invasion.

  “Gabrielle, slow down,” Margie called.

  Ignoring Margie’s request, Gabrielle jerked Rajiv’s halter and lead off the wall and barged into his stall. She haltered him before Margie arrived in the doorway. She led him into the aisle and passed Margie the end of his lead rope. “Hold. I’m getting Mamoon.”

  Margie’s wary gaze bore into Gabrielle’s back as she eased open Mamoon’s stall door and approached with an extended hand. The horse popped his head up, chewing on a mouthful of hay as she approached. Interest flickered in his dark gaze. His ears twitched forward, listening.

  “Hey, boy. We need to go through this again.”

  As if in agreement, Mamoon took a step closer to her and nudged her shoulder with his muzzle. She spared a moment to give him an affectionate pat. Sometimes he could be so gentle. So unlike the nutty side of his personality. If she could discover how to tap into this calm side of his nature, Scottsdale wouldn’t be a concern at all. Impulsively, she passed him a peppermint disk.

  He stood patiently as she eased the halter over his nose and fastened it behind his ears. When she snapped the lead rope on, he let out a nicker of anticipation. He offered no protest as she gave the lead a tug and asked him to leave the stall.

  Following obediently, Mamoon jog-trotted into the arena as if he knew what came next. His tail lifted high and erect, his steps took on more grace and animation. Each white hoof stabbed into the dirt with perfect precision, before snapping up like a well-practiced march. Exceptional. If he performed this well at home, surely Scottsdale wouldn’t challenge him overmuch.

  Behind her, Margie led Rajiv. The older stallion lacked the same vigor, but as he approached Mamoon, he too stepped up to play the part. Showing more grace and poise than Gabrielle had seen, he marched side by side with Rajiv.

  Around the arena they went, Gabrielle instructing Margie with the same words Jake had relayed to her. Margie’s early years of showing horses came back quickly, and soon she executed commands before Gabrielle could think to ask. The pair circled once more, Gabrielle extending her stride to push Mamoon a little further, coerce a little more flash and show. Elation welled as he responded like a well-oiled machine, never hesitating over what she requested, never balking when she stumbled over her own feet. Good grief, this was progress. His willingness made this morning’s successful session look like hurdles on a track field. Earlier, he’d been stiff and stilted. Now, he flowed, no floated, across the ground.

  She turned him to the center and fished the metallic disk out of her coat pocket. Holding it high above her head, she tilted it in the light until Mamoon’s attention focused on the glint. He extended his nose, elongated his neck, tensed his back. Her heart soared, her smile broadened. Success. At last, they’d reached an agreement. Jake would be proud.

  With a frown, she stuffed the thought aside. What Jake thought didn’t matter. This was for her. For her farm. For Mamoon.

  From the corner of her eye, she caught Rajiv and Margie joining them in the center of the arena. Margie bent down, reaching for the whip on the ground. Gabrielle’s eyes went wide, and her fingers tightened around Mamoon’s lead. “Don’t touch—”

  Before she could finish, Margie picked up the whip and swung it gently toward Rajiv.

  Mamoon jerked backward, his dark eyes as big as moons. His nostrils flared as his attention riveted on the whip. His right foreleg struck the ground in an angry stomp. “Easy, boy,” Gabrielle soothed. “Put the whip down, Margie.”

  “What?” Wearing a wide smile Margie turned her head toward Gabrielle. “I can’t hear you.”

  The sway of the whip’s free end was enough to push Mamoon over the edge. He arced skyward at the same time he surged backward. The powerful jerk yanked Gabrielle’s shoulder, twisting it at an awkward angle as she fought to retain her footing. She let out a cry and let go of Mamoon’s lead.

  The stallion lunged for the whip, inserting himself between Gabrielle and Margie. If Margie were in trouble, Gabrielle sat helplessly on the opposite side, pain riveting her in place. She clutched at her arm as tears prickled her eyes, and dragged in a deep breath. “Put the whip down,” she bellowed. The shout jarred her arm further, and she huddled into herself.

  Margie dropped the whip like a hot poker. Mamoon settled in the next heartbeat, his quiet demeanor once again surfacing. He bent over Gabrielle and nudged the top of her head with his nose as if to say, Get up, silly human.

  “What the hell was that?” Margie asked.

  “He’s afraid of whips.”

  “I’ll say. Are you okay?”

  Gabrielle sucked in another short breath as a burst of pain arced to her fingertips. “I think so. I need some ice. Can you put Rajiv up?”

  “Of course. Want me to get that one too?”

  Shaking her head, Gabrielle answered, “I better do it.” She fought off the searing sensation in her arm and hauled herself to her feet. Wincing, she collected Mamoon’s lead rope in her left hand. “C’mon, boy.” Damned if Mamoon didn’t look chagrined when he stepped into place at her side. His head carried low, he trudged through the soft arena floor.

  Gabrielle bit back a frustrated oath. Hot and cold. Sensible and crazy. Which horse would show up at Scottsdale? Lord, she needed Jake here. Needed him to tell her everything he’d discovered, go through all the things once more so she could be certain she had the upper hand in predicting what Mamoon might do.

  But that would never happen, she admitted with an inward groan. Jake had left her to this mess. Done what he could, but left her to figure out the rest on her own. She lifted her chin. She could do that. Had been for a dozen years. It’s what she wanted—freedom, independence, success. She didn’t need Jake.

  Chapter Thirty

  Jake sank into a chair near the window and stared out at the neon red sign advertising the Burlington, Colorado, motel room’s rate. The scent of stale smoke surrounded him. Through the paper-thin wall, a television blared, and he dropped his head into his hands to filter out the noise. He should have slept in his rig. But as his luck would have things, sometime during his stay at Gabrielle’s, his cot became too small. He’d tossed and turned, finally giving up on the idea and checking in to the discount motel in hopes a larger bed would give him rest.

  Only rest wouldn’t find him here. Not when every breath he took made him long for the floral aroma that clung to Gabrielle. Or when every time he looked out the window, he expected to see the darkened silhouette of her barn.

  The hard bed, and the absence of her softness, didn’t help either. The sound of her voice haunted him. Visions of her beautiful smile soaked through his closed eyelids, making sleep impossible. Everything inside him screamed to turn his rig around and go back to Kansas. Now. Before he stayed away too long, and her anger refused to let him return.

  He glanced
at the cell phone near his elbow. If he called, it would only prolong the inevitable. Their paths were too different. This had to end somewhere. Better now than when they were both so involved one of them had to make sacrifices someone would later regret. Tearing his eyes off the black screen, he stared out the window once more.

  Was she sitting there wondering if she ought to call, maybe? Or had she gone to bed, finding the sleep he couldn’t? It was shortly after midnight, the possibility not unlikely. Did she…miss him? Lord, he wanted to hear her voice just one more time. Let that sweet melody lull him to dreams.

  To hell with it. With a grumble, he snatched up the phone and flipped it open. Maybe he’d find the courage to tell her the full truth. Subject himself to her mercy and beg her to understand. Maybe then, there’d be something other than misery ahead.

  Scrolling through the names, he chuckled softly as he stopped on the entry Gabrielle had programmed in. Lord love her, she’d entered herself as Gabby. A smile tugged at his mouth as he hit the connect key.

  She answered on the second ring. “Hello?”

  “Hey, sugar.”

  “Jake.”

  At her soft exclamation, his heart thumped a heavy beat. Feeling lay behind the simple greeting, her tone part breathless, part disbelieving.

  “I couldn’t sleep,” he confessed as he reclined in the chair. “You doing okay?”

  “Yeah. It’s lonely here without you.”

  He nodded. “I know the feeling. This bed is awfully miserable. What did you do this afternoon?” That’s it, Sullivan. Keep it simple. Ease into the truth.

  “Margie and I worked with the horses this evening.”

  “Oh? How’d that go?” He crossed an ankle over the other and stared out at the sign, content to just listen. Anything to keep her talking. He loved the sound of her voice.

  “It went okay. Margie’s going to help at Scottsdale. She’s going to take Rajiv. Mamoon was wonderful.” She hesitated for a heartbeat, adding, “For a while at least.”