Jake (Cowboys and Debutantes Contemporary Book 1)

by Kit Morgan

  “I said, I’m moving.”

  His face went red, his eyes bulging. Even his balding head turned pink. “You are not going anywhere.”

  “Dad, we’ve been over this. I appreciate this wonderful apartment. But let’s face it – it’s the company’s apartment. If I weren’t living here, then your business partners would be using it on weekends. Is that the problem, that I’ve taken away their party house?”

  “The problem is that you won’t conform!”

  “Wow, breaking news.” She snatched up her purse, went to the other side of the kitchen’s bar counter and set it down. J. Wayne Woodrow wasn’t a violent man – physically – but it always felt better for her to have a barrier of some sort between them. “I make enough to afford my own place.”

  “Your own what – some cockroach-infested studio in Queens?”

  Casey took another deep breath. Every discussion with her father lately turned into aerobic exercise for her lungs. “I’ve seen cockroaches in here too. They aren’t picky.” And at least they don’t lecture me about my life.

  Her father blanched, and quickly looked around. “That cleaning service is fired!”

  Casey rolled her eyes upward as if imploring the heavens. “Dad, will you pleeeease stop?”

  “No, I will not stop. You’re going to that gala and you’re going to let yourself be seen.”

  “Seen by whom?” she asked dryly.

  “Everyone!” he replied, waving his arms wide as if to take in all five boroughs. Well, maybe not Queens. Or Staten.

  Her eyes narrowed. “And is there some particular ‘everyone’ you had in mind?”

  He straightened. “John Showater.”

  She made an involuntary gagging noise.

  Her father stormed toward the door. “Get a dress. The gala is in three weeks. I’m picking you up at eight.”

  Casey slowly counted to ten. She knew he was waiting for her to give him some sort of retort, so he could launch into one of his greatest hits, his “what would your mother think of what’s become of you?” rant. But she let him slam the door behind him in silence. This time, she wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction.

  Now, where could she go so that, in three weeks come eight o’clock, he couldn’t find her?

  Chapter 6

  Three weeks later …

  Jake rubbed his tired eyes, blinked a few times, then got back to work. All in all, the books looked decent, but the stable was barely breaking even. Some months were better than others, but he didn’t know enough about the demographics as yet to determine why. He noted that November and December were consistently good months and asked Miss Williams about it. “It’s because of the Christmas festival and parade,” she explained.

  “Christmas festival?” Jake said in wonder.

  “Yes, so long as it’s warm enough we have it. ‘Warm enough’ meaning above eighteen degrees.”

  He leaned back in his chair and stared at her across the desk. A picture of Casey Woodrow suddenly popped into his head, a scarf around her neck, holding a mug of hot chocolate in her mittens, waiting to be kissed …

  “Jake?”

  “Oh, uh … why eighteen degrees?”

  “It’s a benefit for handicapped children. We use our best school horses, but for an event like that, the city won’t let them be worked when it gets over ninety degrees or below eighteen.”

  “Does it get that cold here in the winter?” he asked, his curiosity piqued.

  “Yes, but usually not until January. December is okay most years.”

  He was about to reply when he thought he caught a glimpse of red hair near the arena gate, and his chest tightened. He hadn’t seen Casey for a few days except in passing, and their conversations had been brief. Before that, they’d spent quite a bit of time together whenever he had a chance, talking and laughing, but this week he’d been too busy for lengthy breaks. The one day he did have time, she hadn’t had a lesson scheduled. “Do you have a client coming in?”

  Miss Williams glanced out the plate-glass window. “Yes, the Woodrow girl. This will be her fourth lesson – no, make that her fifth . She’s been hanging out with Bojangles in the meantime, getting to know him.”

  A shiver went up his spine – she was here! “How’s she doing with them?”

  Miss Williams smiled. “Better than I expected. She seemed pretty quiet during the last one – maybe she wasn’t feeling well.”

  Concern welled up in his heart – had she been sick? “I’ll have to say hi.”

  “Mr. Sullivan, do me a favor. Catch her after the lesson. I don’t want her distracted while I’m teaching.”

  He tried to look innocent. Dang, had his attraction to Casey become that obvious?

  “And if the two of you are going to disappear for hours again, please let me know.”

  That would be a yes. “I will. But that’s a big ‘if’ – I’ve got a lot of work here, and …” He stopped short. Casey stood just outside the office door! His heart pounded at the sight of her, and he instinctively straightened in his chair. “Hi there.”

  She smiled nervously. “Hi.”

  “Are you ready for me?” Miss Williams asked.

  Casey nodded silently.

  “Good.” Miss Williams glanced between them. “I’ll be waiting for you in the arena.” She gave Jake a pointed look before focusing on Casey. “Your lesson starts in five minutes.”

  “Okay.” She stepped into the office as Miss Williams stepped out.

  Jake stood and came around the desk. “So how are you? I haven’t seen you much the last few days.”

  “I’ve … had things to take care of.”

  He studied her a moment. She was definitely not herself, or at least not the woman he’d had so much fun with the last few weeks. “Are you sure you’re feeling okay?”

  She shrugged with a heavy sigh.

  “That doesn’t sound like ‘okay’ to me.” He put a hand on her shoulder. “Can I help?”

  She looked at him, her eyes void of the spark he was used to seeing. “Yes and no. I …”

  “Miss Woodrow!” came a shout from the arena.

  Casey shut her eyes and smiled. “She’s a slave driver.”

  “She certainly is,” Jake said with a laugh. “How about a cup of coffee when she’s done with you? You’ll probably need some by then.”

  Her smile grew. “That would be nice.”

  “Okay, I’ll wrap things up in here while you have your lesson,” he said, his voice soft.

  “Thanks.”

  Jake smiled and leaned against the desk. “For what?”

  “For what I’m going to ask you over coffee.” Before he could reply, she was out the door.

  Jake took a few steps after her, then thought better of it. Best to wait until Miss Williams was done with her. Then he’d have Casey all to himself for a while. He just hoped he could hold out until then. And it wasn’t just curiosity over what she wanted to ask that gnawed at him, either – his protective instincts were screaming at him to find out what was wrong and fix it, now. And, he found, he really wanted her to ask for his help.

  The thought made his chest swell. Whatever it was she needed, she could count on him.

  “You want me to what?” came out amidst a burst of laughter.

  Casey sighed, put her hands on the table and leaned toward him. “I want you to escort me to a grand gala. It’s for the arts – in this case, the ballet. Please don’t look so shocked. It’s just a party. What’s so funny?”

  “This is your problem – you need a date?”

  She nodded, but her eyes conveyed more than just a need for an escort. Something else was going on. “It’s just one evening.”

  He rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to laugh. I expected something more dire, like some guy’s been stalking you, or your dishwasher quit.”

  Much to his delight, now she laughed. “No, none of those things.”

  His smiled faded as he studied her. “So h
ow have you been these last few days?” It probably wasn’t any of his business – he didn’t know her well enough to pry into her personal affairs. But he had to know.

  “I’ve been busy moving.”

  “Moving?” he said in surprise. Well, that explained a lot – maybe she was just tired. “Wow, that’s an undertaking. Did you have to move a lot of stuff?” I would have helped had you asked, he added silently.

  “Not really. I left a lot of things behind.”

  His brow furrowed with curiosity. “Like what?”

  “All the furniture, for one. It wasn’t mine to begin with.”

  Jake cocked his head. “The place came already furnished?”

  “You could say that. The apartment belonged to my dad’s corporation – the executives used it for …” Getting their freak on with their mistresses. “… business, mostly. But I’ve been living there since I got out of college.”

  Jake sat back in his chair. He hadn’t realized he’d been leaning over the table. “But now you have your own place,” he said, not sure why he needed to clarify.

  “Finally!” He could see the anger smoldering in her eyes. She and her father must not get along. Still, he didn’t want to upset her by asking for details. He also didn’t want to feel like he needed to punch someone, especially her dad. He took a sip of his latte to keep from saying something he shouldn’t.

  Instead he managed, “So do you need anything for your new place?”

  She laughed.

  “I’ll take that as a yes?”

  “Maybe we should talk about something else,” she suggested.

  He studied her, saw the fear in her eyes. “You’re gonna be okay, Casey.”

  She stared at him, and for a moment he thought she would cry. But instead she sat up straighter, determination in her features. “I know.”

  That was all he needed to hear. She was a fighter. He liked that. “And you’ll let me know if you need me for anything other than my looks and charm at a party?”

  A hint of a smile tugged at her mouth. “I will.”

  Manhattan wasn’t exactly what Jake had expected. For one, it didn’t have the multitudes of people you saw in movies. Sure, there were a lot, more than he’d ever seen before outside of an arena, but not much more than in downtown Portland or Seattle, the only other large cities he’d been to. New York just had a lot of downtowns.

  But what really fascinated him was the diversity. Oregon, even Portland, was dramatically homogeneous … well, let’s call it what it was. Oregon was dramatically white. But in New York, he heard languages he couldn’t place and saw races he’d never seen before on just about every block, all living in relative harmony. A week ago, he probably couldn’t have placed Eritrea on a map; yesterday, he’d eaten Eritrean food and liked it. He realized he needed – and wanted – to get out more.

  Maybe inheriting Dixie’s wasn’t such a bad thing after all. As if meeting Casey wasn’t proof enough of that.

  Speaking of which … “Are you okay?” she asked behind him.

  Jake turned, and his jaw dropped. “Wow!”

  Casey smiled. “You like?”

  Jake’s eyes roamed over her. She wore a sleeveless black sequined dress, black shoes with three-inch heels, a pair of pearl earrings and a matching bracelet. Her red hair was twisted up into one of those styles his sister was always trying to achieve, with mediocre results (partly because Jenny always tried to do things on her own; Casey had obviously been to a hair stylist). Her makeup was stunning and her eyes sparkled. She looked like a movie star. “You look fantastic.”

  “Thank you.” She gave him a once-over in return. “You look … good.”

  Jake glanced at his clothing, reminded that he’d had only a day to prepare for this evening. That very afternoon, he’d bought a tie to match his dark jacket, but he’d only brought that for attending church. Thankfully, his mother had insisted he pack some black slacks, but even with them he still felt underdressed. Was this was a black-tie affair and Casey had forgotten to mention it?

  His reassurance was that when dressed like this back home, he was considered quite handsome. But he suspected here, he’d be the only one wearing a black Stetson.

  He gathered his nerve and offered Casey his arm, then turned toward the wide steps leading up to the many entrance doors. They were at one of New York’s better-known museums, and it had been all he could do not to gawk like a stupefied tourist when he arrived from the cheap pay-by-the-week motel he now stayed in. Mercifully, he didn’t have to wait long before Casey found him. “So what exactly goes on at one of these shindigs?”

  “Mingle, smile a lot and admire the art, music and performers.”

  “Performers?”

  “Yes. This is for the ballet, you know.”

  “How do you tell which folks are the dancers?” he asked in amusement.

  Casey made a face. “They’re the ones everyone will be fawning over.”

  “I see.” He opened a door for her.

  Once inside, the first thing to greet them was heavy security. He watched men set keys and wallets into plastic bowls while women put purses and bags onto a conveyor belt. “Boy, New York doesn’t mess around.”

  “It can’t afford to.”

  Jake’s mind immediately went to 9/11, and he nodded in understanding. That was another thing about rural Oregon: no one considered it a target.

  He saw a man get pulled aside after walking through a security checkpoint, and a guard asking him to take off his shoes. “A lot of shoes made in Italy have metal in the soles,” Casey whispered in his ear. “Security scans always pick them up.”

  “Guess it doesn’t pay to buy Italian around here,” he commented wryly.

  She giggled as she got in line and set her clutch on the conveyor to be scanned. Jake, in the line next to hers, did what was required of him to get through and joined her on the other side. “I feel like we should be boarding a plane,” he quipped.

  She laughed, wrapped an arm around one of his and led him toward a staircase. “The gala’s this way,” she said as they started up. “I wish we were getting on a plane, frankly.”

  He watched her out the corner of his eye, happy because she was. At least he hoped she was. She was definitely in a better mood than the other day. He’d attributed much of that to her move, but there was a big difference between being tired and being upset. And by the time they’d finished their coffee and he returned to Dixie’s, her eyes had told him she’d been mostly upset. He’d been thinking about her ever since.

  “Casey!” Jake glanced up to see Casey’s friend Melanie approaching.

  “Mel!” Casey said as if she hadn’t seen her in ages. Considering her move, maybe she hadn’t. Come to think of it, he hadn’t seen Melanie around Dixie’s much lately either. “I’m so glad you’re here,” she told Melanie, her voice low and conspiratorial. Now what was that about?

  Melanie took one look at him and gasped – not appreciatively, either, but in pure shock. He faintly hoped it was just because of his inadequate outfit. “Hi,” he said with a jaunty wave. “Nice seeing you again. You haven’t been around the barn much.”

  “Oh, I, uh … have been helping Casey with some things.”

  He glanced at his date. “I can understand that.”

  Casey smiled, then spied a waiter holding a tray of champagne glasses and motioned him over. Melanie took two, handed one to each of them, then took one for herself. “Has he seen you yet?” she asked Casey quietly.

  Jake cocked an eyebrow. If he didn’t know any better, he’d say the two were up to something.

  Casey glanced around. “Not yet.”

  “Who?” He stared at his champagne, remembering having some at one of his cousins’ weddings. As he recalled, he didn’t like it.

  “My dad,” Casey said dourly. She took a quick sip from her flute and made a face.

  Jake smiled to himself. He didn’t care for women who drank a lot at parties. Another reason why he hadn’t dated much
– a lot of the girls back home used get-togethers as an excuse to get smashed. “What about him?” he asked, figuring that if it was none of his business, she’d tell him so.

  Casey was about to respond when she turned her head and froze. Jake followed her eyes and noticed a man staring at them. He was shorter than Jake, older, white-haired, balding and at the moment turning red as a rare steak. He glared at them as if waiting for the crimson of his face to reach its peak, then started marching toward them.

  “Who’s that?” Jake asked casually, though he was pretty sure he could guess.

  “Casey!” the man growled once he reached them.

  Casey forced a resigned smile. “Hi, Dad.”

  Mr. Woodrow glanced around, took a calming breath, then locked eyes with his daughter. “Where were you? That’s the second straight time I told you I would pick you up, and you weren’t there.”

  Casey squared her shoulders. “And I won’t be there again. I don’t live there anymore.” She took a sip of her champagne. Jake could tell she was trying her best to act casual.

  Mr. Woodrow leaned back as if someone had just shot him. “I beg your pardon?”

  Casey didn’t move an inch. “You heard me. I moved out.”

  Her father glanced at Jake. “And who is this?”

  Now Casey smiled proudly. “My date.”

  Mr. Woodrow’s face went even redder as he clenched his fists. Uh-oh, Jake thought. This can’t be good.

  It wasn’t. “You brought a date? A DATE?!” He got in her face, his teeth clenched. “John Showater was supposed to be your date for this evening.”

  Casey glanced around. “Funny, I don’t see him anywhere.”

  Her father looked ready to explode. “That does it! I’m through with you! You’re cut off, do you hear me? Done! You want to run your own life, fine! See how far you get.”

  “Good,” Casey replied. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

  Mr. Woodrow opened this mouth, then must have realized he was in full view of the self-proclaimed cream of Manhattan society, snapped it shut and stomped off without a word.