Thoroughbreds and Trailer Trash

by Bev Pettersen

  Jenna rose and this time couldn’t meet his gaze. Her breath felt jerky, as though she were being sucked into a vortex completely out of her control. “That would be great,” she muttered. She tossed aside the mangled stalk of hay and walked away.

  Chapter Ten

  Jenna powered up her ancient computer, groaning as it struggled to connect to the Internet. What a shitty day. She fingered her phone, hating the thought of the hefty bill, but agonizing more about Em’s pictures, about Wally’s future and that she’d been rather mean to lazy, old Frances.

  “Five more minutes and you’re junked,” she snapped at the monitor. She checked the oven before striding outside to see Peanut.

  He chewed steadily at the grass, not moving as she inspected his skin. No worse than yesterday. Maybe even better? At least, his hair had stopped falling out. He still looked a bit like a Chihuahua, a giant hairless Chihuahua. “We’ll go for another walk tonight,” she promised, patting his neck and hurrying back to the trailer.

  Dammit. She hated rushing around for a man, although the cornbread did smell delicious. If he didn’t come, she’d keep a loaf and take the other to old Mrs. Parker.

  But she needed a confidence boost. She slipped on a clingy top, swiped on some mascara and lipstick, brushed her hair and waited on the swing.

  Not long. Burke’s car rolled into her driveway promptly at six thirty.

  He sauntered toward the porch with that confident walk, almost a swagger, but on him it looked good. Besides, he had plenty of reason to strut. Money, education, good family.

  He paused. His eyes narrowed on her tight top before drifting over her breasts and lingering on the inch of skin that rimmed her hip-hugging black pants. His appraisal was bold and assessing, a thorough almost predatory scan that made her nipples tighten.

  He didn’t sit and she didn’t invite him. “Looked like a bit of a tussle in the reception area today,” he finally said. “Not the kind of impression we want to create.”

  She shrugged, aware the gesture would pull his attention back to her breasts, maybe make him forget about the bawling out she truly deserved. “Frances and I were just horsing around. Nothing important.”

  He didn’t answer right away and she hoped he was distracted. Glanced up but the intensity of his gaze was almost scary. She jerked her head away and jammed on her sunglasses even though the porch was shaded. His silent, smoldering appraisal left her flustered, and it was clear he wouldn’t be diverted like the security guard. Amazingly, she was the one unbalanced.

  She clasped her arms over her chest and shivered, wishing she could hide, wishing she’d worn something different. He was way too much man for this ploy, and unlike Emily, she wasn’t very skilled at the game. In fact, her pulse kicked like a captured bird in a fist.

  Still, he said nothing.

  “All right, so we were arguing.” She scrambled to fill the silence. “Frances said something about my sister and I lost my temper. I’m sorry…not for getting mad at Frances but for losing it at work.” She blew out a regretful breath. “I’m very sorry.”

  “Is that cornbread I smell?”

  She nodded but he’d already opened the screen door and disappeared into the trailer, giving her a chance to steady her breathing. A moment later, he reappeared with a plate of warm bread, two beers and her old grey sweater.

  “You look cold. Put this on.”

  She slipped the sweater on, buttoning it almost to the top, unable to meet his knowing gaze. The swing shifted as he sat beside her.

  “Did you hear what I said to Frances?” she whispered.

  “I believe you threatened to kick her useless ass out the door.” His chuckle surprised her. “Jesus, Jenna. If I’d said that, we’d be in court. Something Burke Industries doesn’t want. Never let anyone push your buttons.”

  “Emily’s not my button.” She jerked forward. “Not at all.”

  He raised an eyebrow and she forced herself to lean back. Sucked in a breath and sagged against the seat. “Okay, maybe a little. But I’ve always looked after her. Mom had cancer. Dad was gone. She’s my little sister.” Her voice cracked and she coughed, surprised by the quaver in her voice. “Now she’s gone, has posted strange pictures on Facebook and my computer won’t work.”

  “You really want to see those pictures?”

  “Of course. I need to know what she’s up to. She can be a little…impulsive.”

  He tapped the screen on his phone then pressed it into her hand. “There’s the Internet. Go ahead.”

  She stared at his phone, reluctant to pull out Frances’s password. “It might cost a bit,” she said.

  “It’s covered.” His smile was oddly gentle. “And I owe you for the work you did on the files.”

  “Maybe instead,” she sucked in a hopeful breath, “you could pay me by letting Peanut have some infrared treatments?”

  “No. That animal doesn’t even look like a member of the equine species. Doubt his shots are up to date either. Are they?”

  She kept her head averted, staring at the confusing buttons on his touch screen phone. Burke had thoughtfully brought up the Facebook login; he actually was kind in a tough sort of way, and the thought of sneaking Peanut back into the Center tonight seemed ungrateful. She’d feel much better if he gave permission.

  “Of course, his shots aren’t up to date,” she said slowly. “But he isn’t exposed to anything alone on this hill.” And she couldn’t ask Colin to come, and the only other vet was out of her price range.

  “Exactly. He hasn’t been needled in a while.” Burke spoke with smug authority. “We have to keep the good horses safe.”

  “But Peanut’s my good horse, and he’s sick and needs h-help.” She swallowed her pride, prepared to grovel for her pony, but the painful lump in her throat turned her words awkward. “If he had a flu shot and a Coggins test, could he come? I’ll work the light treatments off at the full price.”

  “Forget it, Jenna. I don’t want that mangy pony around. People shouldn’t have animals they can’t afford.”

  Something stung her eyes and she blinked in despair, grateful for her sunglasses. Squeezed his phone, staring straight ahead as Peanut chewed contentedly at the grass—at the Three Brooks’ grass. She couldn’t even afford good second-cut hay, the fine hay that was easier to chew.

  Her phone rang and she leaped up, grateful for the chance to escape. “Excuse me.” She dropped his phone on the swing and pushed open the screen door. Grabbed her cell, praying it was Em. Slumped in disappointment when she recognized Wally’s number.

  “Hi, there,” she said.

  “Are you bringing Peanut by the Center tonight? There’s some aloe body wash I found while doing inventory. Might help the little guy. I’ll stick it out for you. And maybe you want to stop by the apartment for a tea or something?”

  “I’d like that.” The painful band around her chest loosened a notch. “Um, thanks. I’ll see you later.”

  She stepped back outside but walked to the steps, urging her company off the porch, firmly but politely, the way her mother had taught.

  Burke rose immediately, the empty seat swinging behind him. “Busy?” He scooped up his cell, his face inscrutable. “I need this but you can use it tomorrow. Thanks for the bread.”

  She nodded, waiting until he descended the wooden steps and slid into his car. She wheeled and walked back into the trailer. Poked at her computer, not surprised it still hadn’t connected to Facebook. Maybe it didn’t matter. Wally had a computer and he was always kind, even to mangy ponies.

  Besides, Wally’s company was safer. His thoughtless comments only annoyed her; they didn’t rip her heart out like Burke’s.

  She changed quickly, pulling on jogging shorts and a comfortable shirt, and even grabbed a water bottle for good measure. If Larry expected to see a jogger on his security rounds, that’s exactly what he’d see.

  ***

  Burke stared at another prospectus then tossed it aside in boredom. He crossed
to the huge French windows and stared up the hill. Dark now and he couldn’t see the reflection of any lights. Other than Jenna’s trailer, there was nothing else on the road. Only the two of them.

  Damn, he was restless. Three businesses to evaluate and for the last hour he’d been staring at a jumble of numbers, numbers that turned into legs, breasts and hair. A shaft of heat shot through him and he paced back to the table.

  Sex. He couldn’t get it off his mind. Maybe he should let Theresa fly down for a visit, although admittedly it wasn’t her he was picturing right now.

  It had always been apparent Jenna had a smoking hot body, but tonight, in that tight top, those low pants, she reeked of sex. And he wanted some of it.

  Rationally, he knew it wasn’t smart—generally he didn’t dip his pen in company ink—but he hadn’t signed up to be a monk either.

  He stroked his chin, turning clinical now, searching for solutions. One option would be to fire her, provide a generous severance—hell, give her anything she wanted—then bonk her brains out.

  Unfortunately, he liked her. Liked her a lot. Sitting on that porch, enjoying a beer, had turned into the highlight of his day. Damn good poker player too, and it was hard to find someone who didn’t irritate the crap out of him. Besides, she was one of the few friendly faces around and they were getting fewer by the minute.

  Much fewer.

  The town seemed to be aligning against Burke Industries. Ironically as more suppliers raised prices, forcing him to buy elsewhere, the notion that Burke wasn’t supportive of locals would grow.

  It was a problem he’d faced before, and the solution was generally simple. Find a few well-respected people and lure them onside. Like sheep, the rest would follow. Then it would be possible to cull Three Brooks of deadwood—deadwood like that subversive Wally Turner.

  He grabbed his wallet and headed for his car. Despite his aversion to the Hunt Club and its snobbish clientele, it was the only establishment that catered to the elite citizens of Stillwater. And he needed their support.

  ***

  Jenna froze as Burke’s car crunched past. Headlights swept the road, narrowly missing her and Peanut standing at the top of the narrow path. Obviously he was in a hurry, going fast, driving much too recklessly on a road known to have a loose pony.

  Asshole. Gathering her resentment like a cloak, she clucked at Peanut and continued down the wooded trail. She never used a flashlight on the path, disliking the way it blinded her in the dark. When she was little, her mom had said to put a hand on Peanut’s withers and he’d guide her through the trees, even in the darkest of nights.

  He did that now, his tiny hooves almost silent as he descended the path. He walked eagerly, as though sharing her belief that the infrared treatment might help. Or maybe he was just eager to see the other horses. She fought a pang of regret. He didn’t get out much, not like he used to, and he was such a sociable guy. No doubt he was lonely too.

  Wally had conveniently left the door unlocked and she and Peanut slipped into the hallway, through the swinging doors and into the Center’s solarium.

  The pony stood unmoving under the lights and she peered closer, inspecting his skin, relieved the hair had stopped falling out in such distressing clumps. Something moved and she jumped. Relaxed when she saw it was Wally.

  He dropped a bulky bag on the floor. “Here’s some old shampoo and aloe rinses, also some of that tea tree stuff and eucalyptus. Found it during inventory. It won’t be used so take all you want.” He gave a wry shrug. “Best not let the big guy know though.”

  The big guy. Until a week ago, Wally had been the big guy. Now he was regulated to stock boy. No wonder he was a tad bitter.

  She gave a grateful smile. “Thanks. I really appreciate it. Things aren’t going that great for Peanut…” Her voice trailed off and she fussed with the pony’s ragged mane.

  “Don’t worry.” Wally’s voice softened. “You’ll be amazed at what the infrared can do. And maybe he’s a little depressed. Stick him in a stall afterward and let him see the other horses. That might perk him up. Ponies are like people. They get lonely too.” He gave them both a reassuring smile and headed down the aisle. “I’ll find some special hay for him,” he called.

  It was comforting to see Wally back in control. Animal care was his passion. She slid a hand into her pocket and pulled out the paper with Frances’s password. She’d intended to ask if she could use his computer but now hesitated. Wally had been one of her mother’s best friends. If the pictures were awful, he’d be horrified. He had enough worries of his own and he already felt she spoiled Em. Best to wait until she checked them first.

  Ping. The timer sounded and she stuck the paper back in her pocket and raised the lights. Peanut turned, as though aware the session was over and pulled her toward the stall area. He could be amazingly strong when he wanted to go somewhere. Clearly Wally was right—her little pony was lonely.

  She led him into the main section and down the aisle. Horses thrust heads over their doors, curious about this newest arrival. There weren’t many occupied stalls now, certainly no local horses, and she doubted many of these gorgeous Thoroughbreds had ever seen anything like Peanut.

  Peanut didn’t care. He bounced down the aisle, confident as ever, not worrying that he barely rose above their knees. And that he was unwelcome. Take that, Burke.

  She closed the pony in a spacious stall, noting the huge water bucket Wally had thoughtfully lowered to suit Peanut’s height, then climbed the narrow steps to his apartment.

  “Hot tea or a drink?” Wally asked.

  “Tea, please.” She wandered around the living room, checking the deserted driveway through the window, suddenly uneasy. “Does Burke ever drop by here late at night?”

  “He hasn’t yet.” Wally joined her, rattling the ice cubes in his glass as they both stared out the darkened window. “You think he’d mind your little pony?”

  “I know he would.”

  Wally turned back to the wailing kettle. “Another one of our secrets then,” he said.

  Chapter Eleven

  Burke tossed his hard hat on the corner chair and scanned his office. Nothing seemed to be touched. He picked up a protractor and measured the corners of the files. Each paper matched the angle from yesterday. Perfect. After the locksmith’s visit, he finally had some security.

  He strode over to the employee files and saw that Jenna had completed the lists and someone, probably that lazy receptionist, had typed the statements. They all appeared to be signed, sealed and delivered. Looked like about half the staff qualified for raises. That should boost morale.

  He paced back to the window and stared at the new storage building, flexing his hand as he watched a worker expertly pound a nail. There was a small cost overrun but not much. Everything was looking good.

  As though on cue, a parade of mismatched vehicles zoomed into the lower employee lot. He didn’t have to check his watch. Obviously it was eight am. They were all very careful not to arrive a second too soon.

  Jenna sauntered up the walkway, hips swinging, hair blowing in the breeze. He noted every damn construction worker stopped to stare. One bold fellow he knew only as Terry, even grabbed his thermos and chased after her, mouth flapping until she stopped and turned around.

  Dammit. Burke Industries didn’t tolerate sexual harassment.

  He charged from his office, not even bothering to lock the door. Strode down the long aisle, around the corner and rammed open the heavy door. Bump.

  Hot liquid splashed his fingers. “Damn!” It hurt like hell and he swore again, watching uncomprehendingly as Jenna’s blue eyes darkened with pain, then lowered to stare at her arm, now soaked with scalding liquid.

  Aw, shit. He scooped her up and rushed to the bathroom. A nameless girl leaned against the sink, carefully applying mascara. “Out,” he snapped. Leaned past and jerked on the tap, tugging Jenna’s arm beneath a cold spray of water. She whimpered, struggled for a second but soon stopped resisting.<
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  “I’m so sorry, sweetheart,” he murmured, pressing his face against her hair, trying to absorb her trembles. “Don’t move. Ten minutes and then we’ll see, okay?”

  Her face was pale in the mirror, her teeth gritted. He clamped his eyes shut, overwhelmed with regret. “I’m so sorry, Jenna,” he repeated, keeping his arms wrapped around her.

  “It wasn’t your fault,” she said.

  But he knew it was, knew he wouldn’t have reacted like that for anyone else. He took a deep breath and opened his eyes, staring at her arm, trying to assess the burn through the flowing water. Christ, his skin hurt and only a few drops had reached him. That idiot must have had boiling water in his thermos. And lemons? He remembered seeing a wizened slice of lemon on the ground at her feet.

  She shifted and he loosened his hold, surprised at her tiny wrists. She acted so tough, so confident, had sauntered up the walkway like she owned it and now she was fighting not to cry. Fresh remorse tore at his gut.

  The door opened and the receptionist stuck a cautious head in. “Anything I can do?”

  “Grab our first aid kit,” he said. “I’m taking her to the hospital.”

  She nodded and the door swung shut. He moved his hand over Jenna’s elbow, tilting her arm. “We better get that ring off, in case there’s swelling.” He managed to turn her hand, saw the reddened skin on the inside of her fingers and paused. “Maybe they should take it off at the hospital.”

  “No.” She jerked in protest. “They’ll cut it off. And it was my mom’s.”

  He gulped, studying her skin beneath the flowing water. The inside of her hand and fingers were damaged along with her wrist. Pulling off the ring would hurt like hell. No way could he inflict that kind of pain.

  “Please.” Her eyes gripped his through the mirror and he saw the shimmer of tears, recognized their stark plea. “Please, Burke. Just pull it off.”

  He swallowed again. “Shut your eyes,” he said gruffly. He reached for her hand, not wanting to see her expression. The ring twisted beneath his fingers and he tugged, felt her wince and paused.