by Kit Morgan
“I’ll look for him,” Jake said. “And don’t worry, I’ll see Bojangles is well taken care of.”
“Thank you. I appreciate that.”
“Later you can tell me why this Dr. Cohen is so hard to pin down.”
She harrumphed. “Don’t worry, I will.” She turned and disappeared around the corner.
“Shall we take him around again?” Jake asked.
“Sure, why not?”
He removed his arm from around her waist and put the reins in her hands. “You do it.”
She took them and, remembering the sound he used to signal the horse to move, imitated it as best she could.
He laughed behind her as Bojangles started to walk. But Casey had forgotten to use the reins to tell him where to go. Since he was facing the gate, that’s exactly where he went. “Oh dear. That didn’t work out like I planned.”
Jake chuckled and placed his hands on his thighs. “You’re driving. That means you steer.” He leaned forward. “But I’ll give you a hint – if you want him to go left, pull the reins in that direction, so he feels the pressure on his neck. That’s called neck reining.”
“Oh?” She tried it, and Bojangles politely obliged, turning away from the gate and walking along the rail as he’d done before. At least the horse knew what was expected of him – Casey sure didn’t. But Jake made her feel at ease and a lot less nervous than when Miss Williams was teaching. Besides, Miss Williams wasn’t a handsome cowboy.
“Have you lived here long?” he asked, making her jerk in response. “Whoa there, princess. I didn’t mean to scare you.”
“I’m sorry. It’s just that I’m concentrating on staying on.”
“What did I tell you before? I won’t let you fall off. And even if you do, I’ll make sure I break your fall.”
“What?” she said with a giggle.
“I’ll let you land on me.”
She laughed at that, then remembered his question. “I’ve lived here all my life. Well, not here specifically, but in New York City.”
“Here meaning Brooklyn?”
“Correct. I’m from Manhattan. Upper East Side.” The latter probably held no meaning for him, but she was used to throwing it in.
“I thought it was all the same place.”
“Not really. The city is broken up into five boroughs. And each one has a bunch of separate neighborhoods.”
“Yeah, I read about that somewhere. But it’s all one big city to me. Really big.”
“It is that. But most people here think in terms of the neighborhoods. Manhattan alone has the Upper East Side, the Upper West Side, the Battery, Central Park West, Chelsea, the Village, Wall Street of course, and on and on.”
“So is the Upper East Side like downtown?”
“No, more like the old-money residential neighborhood.” She noticed the rhythm of the horse’s gait, the way he moved so naturally with it, and found that if she relaxed, she moved in rhythm too. She had to fight the urge to relax too much and slump back against him. “Where are you from in Oregon?” she asked to get her mind off his warm chest. “I don’t really know Oregon except for where Portland is.”
“Our ranch is in the middle of the state, near a town called Sisters. We own a few hundred acres.”
“Oh yeah. And cows.”
“Cattle,” he corrected as they started up the other side of the arena. He made that clicking sound again and Bojangles obediently went into a trot.
“Hey!” Casey said in protest, grabbing what little saddle there was to grab. “Give a person some warning.”
“The horse isn’t going to give you any warning if he spooks, or decides to start crow-hopping again.”
Casey’s gut twisted in shame. “About that … I think that was my fault.”
“Oh?” he said. “Do tell, princess?”
Why did he call her that? But for some reason, she didn’t mind. “I sort of … kicked him … when I shouldn’t have.”
“Shouldn’t have? Miss Williams didn’t tell you to?”
“No, I just did it. It was lame, I know, but I wanted to see what he’d do.”
“Well, I guess you saw.” He sat silent for a moment. “What you did goes way beyond lame.”
“Okay, stupid.”
“That’ll do. You’re very lucky he didn’t buck you off.”
“I wanted …” Oh geez, she couldn’t tell him she wanted to ride past the spectator’s area because he was in it! “… well, I must’ve seen it in some film.” She turned as best she could to look over her shoulder at him, just in time to catch him shaking his head with dismay. She faced front and flushed red with embarrassment. “Yeah, stupid.”
“Let’s go with ‘ignorant’.”
“Thanks a lot!”
“I don’t mean that in a bad way. I mean literal ignorance – a lack of knowledge. You just didn’t know better.”
“Well, I sure do now.” She took a shaky breath. This conversation was making her look like an idiot, and he would think exactly that after she went home. Oh well, it’s not like she’d see him again. Oh, wait a minute – he owned the place! If she kept taking lessons, she might not be able to avoid him. “So … are you planning to move here?”
“Me, move here?” he asked in surprise. He laughed. “Not likely – I’m just here to check things out. My family and I inherited this place and we need to make sure everything’s shipshape.”
Casey felt an odd mix of relief and disappointment. She’d embarrassed herself enough in front of this man and didn’t need more chances to keep doing it. But at the same time, she really wouldn’t mind getting to know him a little better. He wasn’t like the men she knew – he was so down to earth, honest, no BS. What you saw is what you got – at least she thought so. Most men her age were still trying to figure out who they were. Jake Sullivan, she sensed, already knew.
“So after we’re done here,” she said before she had a chance to talk herself out of it, “would you like to grab a cup of coffee?”
Chapter 5
Coffee? The woman wanted to get coffee. And here he thought he’d insulted her. Jake smiled. She was not only pretty, but could handle some friendly criticism. “Sure, if you’d like. Are you talking about the break room?”
She stiffened, and he cringed, envisioning stale java with even staler donuts. Thankfully, she had a better idea. “No, I know a good place not far from here. Do you have a car?”
Now it was his turn to flinch, thinking about the crazy drive just to get there from the airport. Bad enough he’d had to drive in from another state, due to it being cheaper to fly into Newark – didn’t people here know how to stay in a lane? “A rental. Don’t you have a car?”
“No, I don’t drive.”
“Don’t or won’t?” After this morning’s experience, he couldn’t blame her if she refused to get behind a wheel.
“Don’t. I never learned.”
“Why not?”
She shrugged. “There was never a reason.”
He thought about that. New York did have an incredible public transportation system. Maybe he’d have been better off not getting a rental at all – he wasn’t used to this much traffic. New York streets were a far cry from central Oregon’s mostly empty country roads and highways. “I see. How far is it?”
“Not far – a ten-minute walk.”
Oh, he could handle that. In fact, maybe he should drive there, just to let himself get used to the crazy traffic. “Okay, let’s go.”
“What about my lesson?”
“I’m not your instructor. Besides, your lesson was rescheduled, remember?”
“Oh yes. So it was.”
He found he liked the sound of disappointment in her voice. It meant she liked riding with him. And he wasn’t going to lie to himself and say it wasn’t mutual – what man wouldn’t enjoy a chance to ride a horse with a pretty girl? “All right. Let’s find this Charlie, have him take care of Bojangles, then we can be on our way.”
“Sound fin
e.” She steered the horse toward the gate.
Jake dismounted first, then instructed her on the finer points of getting down herself. She was nervous, he could tell – a side effect of her earlier fall. As soon as her sneaker-clad feet hit the ground, he smiled. “There, that wasn’t so bad, was it?”
“No, but what about next time?”
“Your lesson? You should feel more comfortable by then. I suggest you ride the same horse, and show up with a pair of boots. I also suggest you don’t kick him the way you did.” He patted the horse on the neck. “Do you know if Charlie takes care of him all the time?”
“I have no idea,” she said, raising her hands above her head and stretching. The movement caused the form-fitting tee-shirt she wore to ride up, exposing her navel and a good portion of toned waist. Jake took hold of the reins and concentrated on leading the horse toward the gate.
“It’s easier if you take him through at the other end,” she suggested.
He looked at the gate at the other end of the arena and arched an eyebrow. “Then why didn’t you take Bojangles there?” he asked bemusedly.
“Um, because I didn’t think of it until now?” she said with another little shrug. She was cute and pretty at the same time. Not that there was a big difference between the two, or that she leaned toward one or the other. She was just naturally a pleasant mix of both.
He smiled. “All right, but you’re going to walk him down there.”
“Me?”
“Yes, you. If you’re going to learn how to ride a horse, you’re going to also have to learn how to lead one. Come here.”
She did, as he slid the reins over Bojangles’ head then offered them to her. “Hold them like this,” he demonstrated, leading him on the left. “And don’t let him get ahead of you. You don’t want to be walking alongside his shoulder. Stay even with his head.”
She smiled and nodded, a flash of nervousness in her eyes.
“I’m right here,” he said, his voice gentler than normal, especially with someone he’d just met. Never mind that they’d shared the horse.
“That’s reassuring.” She started walking.
They turned Bojangles over to Charlie, then went to Jake’s rental car. “I wanted a truck,” he told her. “It’s what I’m used to driving. But after my first taste of New York traffic, I’m glad they gave me this one.”
She looked the car over. It was an ugly tan Chevy sedan – all the rental agency had at the time that he could afford. Most of his money was going for the tiny speck of a room at the boutique hotel he was staying at – over two hundred and fifty dollars a night. As soon as he was able, he’d find someplace different. He’d only picked that hotel because according to Google Maps it was close to the riding academy, but he hadn’t factored in the Brooklyn traffic. It had taken him half an hour to drive what would have been an eight-minute trip even in Portland.
“I’m glad I don’t drive,” she commented as he opened the door for her. She got in, he closed the door, went around the car and sighed heavily once inside. “What was that for?” she asked, her head tilted.
He laughed. “I feel like I’m about to go into battle.”
“Oh, the traffic? Don’t worry – everyone feels the same way when they first drive in the city. I don’t know how my dad used to do it, but then, he doesn’t drive anymore.”
“What about your mom?” he asked as he started the car.
“Passed away.”
He reached over and touched her hand. “I’m sorry. Has she been gone long?”
“About ten years, so it’s not like I’m grieving or anything.”
He nodded in understanding. “I lost my dad five years ago. Cancer.”
She smiled weakly. “Riding accident.”
Jake felt his heart lurch. No wonder she’d been so nervous during her lesson. He studied her a moment. What had she really been thinking when she foolishly kicked Bojangles and set him off?
“I know what you’re thinking,” she said as he backed out of the parking spot.
“You do?”
“Mm-hmm. You’re thinking I must have something to prove.”
“Sorry to disappoint, but that’s not what I was thinking at all.” He glanced at her as he entered the road. “Well, maybe ten percent, but no more.”
She burst out laughing. “You’re a funny guy.”
“I try not to be,” he said as seriously as he could.
She studied him a moment. “Liar.”
He wagged a finger at her. “You got me.”
They bantered the whole way, between her pointing out different streets and giving directions. Before he knew it, they’d reached their destination, even finding a parking spot just up the block. “You’re lucky,” she told him. “Sometimes it can take a while if there are no parking garages around. But at this time of day it’s not bad.”
Jake saw all the cars lining both sides of the street, just like every street he’d been on since arriving. “Do tell? I wonder what it’s like at peak parking.”
“You’re looking at it. This is a main drag with lots of restaurants, and it’s getting close to lunchtime.”
He glanced at his watch. “So it is. Would you care to dine?”
She smiled.
“What?” he asked, amused.
“So formal.”
“Nah, not really. I am from what you Easterners might call the Wild West.”
Her shoulders shook with silent laughter. “We don’t call it that.”
“Then what do you call it?”
“Just the West Coast?”
It was idle chatter, but he liked it. “Fair enough, being as how we call you the East Coast.”
She made a tsk-tsk sound. “So boring.”
“So we’re a couple of boring people. Let’s go eat.” For fun he offered her his arm.
To his surprise, she took it. “Is this how they do things out west?”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said in his fakest country accent. “After we mosey on home from a good day o’ huntin’.” He paused and dropped the drawl. “You aren’t an animal activist, are you?”
“No, but I’m not sure how I feel about hunting.”
“If it’s any consolation, we eat what we kill and use what we can.”
“That’s supposed to make me feel better?”
He looked at her again as they walked. “You a vegetarian?” She shook her head, and he noticed a light in her eyes he hadn’t seen before. She was having fun. Good – he was too.
“Here we are.” She pulled him into an upscale-looking coffee shop.
He saw their surroundings and his eyes lit up. “They serve pie here.”
“That’s all they serve here, besides coffee. You like pie?”
“Love it.” He skimmed over the menu. “Savory pies!”
“They’re quite good. I’ve eaten here before with Melanie – we sometimes meet here after she’s done with Georgie.”
“Georgie?”
“Her horse, remember?”
“Oh yes.” How could he have forgotten? Was this woman getting under his skin? Admittedly, it had been a long time since he’d been out with a pretty girl. There was no shortage of them at home, just a shortage of time to be with one.
“Hiya folks!” A short, swarthy man with a New York accent greeted them. “What can I get for ya?” Jake smiled as the tourist in him had its moment.
“He’ll have the curry-and-potato hand pie,” Casey cut in.
He looked at her. “I will?”
“You will.”
He smiled at the proprietor. “I guess I will. Better make it two.”
“One for you an’ one for the lady?”
“No, those are for me.” He looked at the hand pies displayed. “Are they all this size?”
“Yeh. Make it three?”
“Good idea.” He looked at Casey. She was smiling, the light in her eyes hard to miss. “What’ll you have?”
“The same, but one is good enough for me.”
> They also ordered lattes before finding a seat in a corner, where they chatted like old friends. There was something familiar about Casey, but Jake couldn’t figure out what. All he knew was that he felt very at ease with her. Usually on a date (those rare occasions he had time for one) he was nervous at first. But this wasn’t a date and he wasn’t out to impress her, and it made all the difference in the world.
His first full day in New York City was turning out very pleasant indeed.
By the time Casey got back to her apartment it was after three. She and Jake had talked about everything and nothing for over two hours, and could have easily gone longer had he not looked at his watch. “You’re late.”
She went in the front door, and jumped. “Oh my gosh – Dad!” she yelped. “You scared me to death! What are you doing here?”
J. Wayne Woodrow sat casually on the sectional sofa, legs crossed, studying her. “Where have you been?”
“Out.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“With Melanie,” she added, annoyed.
“Ah.” Even that sounded accusatory.
She tossed her purse on a chair. “What are you doing here?” she asked again.
“To remind you of the gala event coming up. You have your dress?”
Casey closed her eyes and scrunched up her face. “Dad, I’ve told you I’m just not into them anymore. They’re great for you – you should go.”
“With you.”
He wasn’t going to make this easy. “Dad, I’m … going in a different direction –”
“The wrong direction,” he interrupted and stood. “And I’ll have no more of it.”
Oh great, she thought. Here we go.
“I don’t pay for this place so you can sit around, put together scraps of fabric and call whatever it is you’ve created fashion.”
“They’re called swimsuits, Dad.” Casey folded her arms. As usual, he’d nailed her with his opening line: I don’t pay for this place … She took a deep breath, reassuring herself that this time she was prepared for it. “And you can stop worrying about paying for this place – I’m moving.”
Her father, apparently about to go into his standard tirade on the value of living in elite society, froze. “What did you say?”