by Talty, Jen
“It does hurt sometimes,” Stacey said. “What are you going to do about Kenzie and the baby?”
“There is nothing to do,” he said. “We’re having a baby and even though I haven’t had enough time to process everything, that’s the reality.”
“Let us know how we can help,” Reese said. “And there will always be room here at the Inn.”
“Thanks.” With that, Jake scuffed across the pathway toward the parking lot, his mind full of questions, his heart heavy with worry.
And fear.
He wasn’t sure what he was most afraid of. Being a father?
Or the feelings for Kenzie that had resurfaced?
Chapter 3
KENZIE STAYED AT THE HOSPITAL until six thirty, when she got a text from Jake, letting her know he was at the farm and asking when she’d be home. Confusion swirled in her gut like a cement truck, weighing her down. Her lungs stung every time she took a breath. She was glad he was willing to help, but wasn’t sure how to deal with his reaction to her carrying his child. He wasn’t upset. She expected anger. She could deal with anger. But he’d been somewhat attentive. And kind.
She’d parked in front of the cabin, next to his pick-up, which was annoyingly in her spot. She half expected the furniture to be rearranged, but it didn’t look like he'd even entered the small two-room cabin other than a note he’d left that he’d gone down to the office in the main barn.
Boots was either going to be thrilled, or go nuts. She hoped it wasn’t the latter.
She entered the barn from the north end. At the opposite end, Jake stood at an open door, trying to coax Boots out, but by the looks of it, it wasn’t working out so well.
“Need a hand?” She adjusted her hat, tucking some of her hair back under the cap as she took long strides, trying to ignore how seeing him in jeans and white T-shirt that fit snugly across his muscles made her remember every single touch and caress of his lips and hands. White never stayed white on the farm. But oh, did it show off his chiseled abs and toned, thick shoulders as he flexed his powerful physique. The air was hot and sticky, making the barn smell more of hay and dirty horse than usual, but she didn't care. It was a smell she’d come to appreciate, except on humid days where it felt like it was a hundred and there was no breeze to ripple against her wet skin.
Jake swiveled, twisting his waist, and groaned. A large hoof print revealed itself near his right side. She winced at the bruise forming under his shirt.
“What did you do to my horse?” he asked.
“I didn’t do anything.” She moved to the side of the door. “Come here,” she said in the low voice that Boots normally responded to. “Come on.”
Boots looked over his shoulder, then raised his nose giving out a long neigh, ending with a squeal.
“Did you give him an apple?” she asked.
“He took it from me, the spit it out.”
“He’s going to pout,” she said. “When did he kick you?”
“Weirdest thing. He got all happy when he saw me but when I opened the door and went into the stall, bam, right in the ribs.”
“He’s been skittish ever since you left.” She tried to get the horse’s attention, but to no avail. “He’s not going to budge until he’s good and ready.” She saw a twinkle in the old horse’s eye, something that hadn’t been there in a long time. “You sure he meant to kick you?”
“No,” he said. “I think I spooked him. Got too close too quick.”
Jake waggled his finger at Boots. “And to think I was going to take you for the run of your life.”
Boots didn’t move. Just stood in the corner.
“Let me take a look at that?”
He jerked when she glided her fingers across his mid-section. She couldn’t tell if it was from the pain, or from her touch. Both saddened her.
“It’s fine,” he said. “Just going to be sore for a while.”
She pulled her arms tight around her middle, leaning against the wall next to the stall.
“I haven’t been able to come here since your father collapsed,” she said. “Kicker has been taking care of all the horses, but poor Boots won’t do anything unless I’m here.”
“Not sure I want you walking around here alone anyway.”
“You get a hold of your friend about the PI?”
He nodded. “Just waiting on a phone call back on the details. I’ve got a shift on the lake from eight to five tomorrow. If the PI can’t come while I’m gone, Reese is going to bring his son over to ride a pony.”
“Not sure this is a safe place for kids.” Her dry eyes stung. Four days since Ethan had collapsed and she’d been in a fog ever since. Running on fumes, she felt like she could sleep for a week.
“He’s not the target,” Jake said. “Reese is an ex-Trooper and does some contract work for the PI. He knows what he’s doing.” Jake sliced up another apple, holding it out, but Boots wasn’t interested.
“Things haven’t been the same here since the other night. I don’t feel safe. I’m always looking over my shoulder. I’ve never felt that way before. I mean, some people don’t like me, but I never thought any of them wanted to kill me.”
“That’s why I’m here,” he said, tossing the apple toward Boots, then resting his hand on her shoulder. “We’ll figure it out.” His touch was tender, but firm. Almost caring. She hugged herself tighter. The night their child had been conceived had been one of the most incredible nights of her life. Not just physically, but it was like all their demons were being expunged in the act of sex.
“The staff look at me funny. I overheard one hand make a snide comment about you coming back.”
“A lot of people didn’t want me running the farm when I got back from college. Nader thought I was too young to be Operations Manager.” He patted her shoulder, then let his hand drop to his side.
“Yeah, but you were born into it and it was expected you’d take over. I wanted it,” she said. “And I made no bones about it, but what really bothers me is that some people are whispering, wondering if I did it. If I poisoned Ethan.” She shuddered.
“It’s just talk.”
“Going to be a lot of talk on this farm when everyone finds out I’m pregnant, especially when they find out you’re the father.”
“Let them talk,” he said. “I’ve never cared what anyone on this farm thought of me. Nor should you.”
“Doesn’t change the fact someone poisoned my coffee.”
“Let’s go through that.” Jake went to close the stall door.
“Leave it open. He might get antsy and start kicking if we stay in here just because he can. He’s a trouble maker sometimes.”
Jake winced as he tentatively moved across the barn. “Give me a play by play of the night my father was poisoned.”
She rubbed her ass, still sporting with a nasty looking bruise that had started to turn all sorts of weird colors. “Boots was acting up while I made a pot of coffee…” she let her words trail off she glanced across the barn. Boots being more stubborn than usual, nose in the corner. “You think he was warning me?”
“You tell me,” Jake said. “Seems I don’t know my own horse anymore.”
She rolled the chair across the floor. Still didn’t get the horse’s attention. “You’ve been gone a long time.”
“That’s true,” he said. “So, Dad came right into the office?”
“No. He called my name, but I was afraid Boots was going to bust out of the stall, so I was standing on the gate, trying to calm Boots. We talked there for a bit, then came into my office. I sat here and he poured two cups. Set one on my desk, leaned against the filing cabinet, started drinking, complained it tasked like crap. I smelled it, and it smelled awful. A few moments later, he was clutching his stomach and vomiting up blood.”
Jake had moved to where the coffee machine had been before it was taken into evidence, his back to the office door, and his horse. His movement got the attention of Boots, who had stepped out of his stall. She wond
ered if she should tell Jake the horse was going to nudge him, but decided not to. Boots just needed Jake to know he’d been hurt.
“Anything out of the ordinary happen that day?”
“I pissed off Charlie by asking for the books.”
Jake laughed. “Why did you do that?”
“The numbers didn’t jive. I was right, but it was just a transposed number. Your dad came down here to get the books back.”
“Anything else?”
“It was a normal day.”
“No fights with any staff. No screw-ups. No unhappy customers?”
She leaned back in her chair, lifting her legs, dropping them on the desk. A smile tugged at her lips as Boots did his best to sneak up on Jake. “Nothing that I can remember.”
“Could anyone have heard you and Dad talking about…” he paused. “…the baby.”
“I don’t know.”
Boots took his nose and pushed it against Jake’s back.
“Hey,” Jake said, twisting and groaning, this time clutching his side. “So, now you decide to say hello.”
Boots tipped his nose so his forehead would be even with Jake’s. He scraped his front hoof on the floor. Jake wrapped his arms around the horse’s massive snout while he whispered in a loving tone. She couldn’t quite make out the words, but Boots was obviously enjoying them as his front legs were practically prancing.
“I think someone wants to be walked,” she said. “I’ll get your saddle.”
“You seriously still have my saddle?”
“Would not kid about that,” she said. “I walk him every night when I can. Sometimes I ride—”
“Is it safe for you to ride?”
“Yes,” she said.
“I don’t think you should, but we can finish this conversation back at the cabin,” he said. “Come on, old man, let’s go get reacquainted.”
“What about your saddle?”
“We’ll go bareback,” he said.
“Not a good idea.” But her words fell on deaf ears as he led Boots around the corner, grabbing a bridle on the way out the main door. She knew not to get between Boots and the man that had broken his heart, making the massive pile of muscle into a pouting sissy. She just hoped that Jake, no matter what, would continue to visit the horse. He had only a few good years left in him. She would hate it if the horse got his heart broken, again.
Suddenly, feeling alone and vulnerable, she stepped from the barn and made her way down to the main pasture where Boots was enjoying a playful run, oblivious the man riding him was struggling to maintain his balance. Riding a horse was like riding a bike, but you still needed to ease back into it.
She laughed, wondering if Jake was going to fall off the not so gentle giant, but he was a skilled rider. A natural. His muscles flexed much like the powerful beast he rode. For twenty minutes, Jake rode Boots, taking him between a walking pace, to a trot, then to a gallop. The horse mostly listened to his commands, but as always, Boots had plans of his own a couple of times.
The sun lowered in the sky, making it so she had to put a hand over her visor to block the rays of the setting sun, squinting to see one of the most beautiful sights she’d ever witnessed. Years ago, she could have watched Jake ride Boots, or any horse for that matter, for hours. The sound of the racing hoofs clicked with her heart. The picturesque vision did something entirely different to her body.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a man with a cowboy hat walking across the path from the breeding barn. She squinted, covering her eyes. It wasn’t until the figure was only about twenty paces away did she recognize the man as Timothy Overtoon.
“Sorry to bother you, but who is riding Boots?” Timothy pulled his hat off
“Jake Prichard,” Kenzie said.
“As in Mr. Prichard’s son?”
“One in the same,” she said. “What are you doing here this late?”
“Working with some of the new horses for the summer camps, making sure their following skills are up to par,” Timothy said.
She watched Jake as he brought Boots down to a trot, then walk, before dismounting. Both the horse and the man looked spent as Jake walked a very tired, but happy horse.
Kenzie pulled open the wooden gate. “Timothy Overton, this is Jake Prichard.”
“Looks like Boots is happy to see you.” Timothy shoved his hand out, but before Jake had a chance to shake it, Boots squealed, kicking up his hind legs.
“Whoa there, old man,” Jake said as he pulled the horse away from Kenzie, but Boots wasn’t having anything to do with that as he nudged, then maneuver his mammoth body across from Kenzie, pushing his nose against her chest.
She patted his snout. “What has gotten into you?” she whispered.
“He’s just a little excited by the return of an old friend,” Timothy said.
“What do you do at the farm?” Jake asked with a clipped tone.
“Breeder and trainer,” Timothy said. “Normally, horses respond positively to me, except this one.”
“Timothy is a bit of a whisperer too,” Kenzie said. “You should see him break a horse. It’s impressive.”
“No one is as good as you are.” Jake looped his arm around her shoulders. “Not even my father.”
“I don’t hold a candle to Kenzie,” Timothy said. “But I’ve been spending some time with Boots, trying to understand him.”
“And what have you figured out?” Jake asked sarcastically.
“From the way he behaved while you were riding him just now, I’d say he’s just a very loyal horse who missed his owner.”
Jake laughed. “We should pat down Boots before his legs get too stiff. It was nice meeting you, Timothy.” Jake patted the horse’s behind.
“You were a little rude,” Kenzie whispered once out of ear shot of Timothy.
“He was checking you out.” Jake’s glided his hand down her spine, then cupped her ass.
She had half a mind to batt his hand away. “Marking your territory now?”
Jake squeezed her butt cheek a little harder. “Something like that. But I also don’t like the way he psycho-analyzed my horse.”
“He needs some analyzing. He nudged me hard enough to knock me on my can the other night.”
“I don’t like the sound of that,” Jake said. “Sure you and the little cargo are okay?”
“Cargo?” She looked up, tossing the horse brush to Jake before wrapping a warm cloth around the horses’ leg.
“Precious cargo. You’re carrying precious cargo.” He tossed the bridle over the wall, then began brushing the horse’s coat.
“That is one I’ve never heard before,” she said. “And my baby isn’t cargo. I’m not a truck.”
“Yet,” he said. “Should see one of the Troopers I work with. Big as a house.”
“You’re really throwing me for a loop here,” she said. “I keep waiting for you to flip out.”
He continued to brush Boots in long slow strokes. The horse basked in the attention as he kept nudging her head gently as if to say thank you for bring Jake back.
“Getting angry now isn’t going to change the situation. Besides, I need to focus on keeping you and dad safe,” he said. “I saw an article about the farm. About you, a couple of days before you showed up the day we ended up in bed together.”
“I hated doing that interview,” she said. “Your father made me. Thought it would be good for the farm.”
“I’m sure it was,” he said. “After reading it, I was hoping you’d come by. I told myself if you showed up, I was going to be nice. Have a conversation. Try to resolve some of the of the past. So, I invited you in. But being nice and sleeping with you are not one in the same. I woke up angry—”
“Because you regretted it.” She pushed the bucket she’d been sitting on to the other side of Boots so she could work on the other leg.
“You don’t like being shushed. I don’t like being interrupted.” He snagged another bucket, flipped it, sat next to her and began r
ubbing down the last leg.
“Fine,” she said. “But you do regret it.”
“No. I don’t.”
She swallowed as he took her hands, turning her body to face him.
“When you wouldn’t leave the farm and come with me I felt like this land and my father meant more to you than me.”
She opened her mouth to say something but he cocked his head and arched a brow.
“Every time you called or came to see me,” he continued, “it was about me reconciling with my father. Not you and me. So, when I woke up that morning and you were still in my bed, I wondered if this wasn’t some trap to get me to meet with my dad and had nothing to do with you wanting to be with me.”
She yanked her hands a way. “I didn’t trap you with this baby,” she said glaring at him. He wasn’t yelling, but the allegation was just as powerful. Perhaps more hurtful.
“I didn’t mean it that way.” He raked a hand through his unruly thick hair. “And I don’t think you trapped me, but to the outside world, I can see how people would think you’re hijacking the farm.”
“Shut up.” She grabbed the towels on the floor and put them in the laundry bag, turning her back to him. His soft tone contradicted his words, making this even more confusing. “You know me better than that.”
“You have to admit you can see how anyone, including me, might think that.”
“Thought you didn’t care what people think.” Looking at it just from his perspective, she could, but that didn’t make it true. She turned, facing him, leaning against the doorjamb of her office while he backed Boots into the stall. “Besides, you’re the one who made a pass at me that day. I was getting ready to leave. I had the door open, but you shut it and kissed me.”
“That wasn’t the first time in the last nine years I’ve made a pass at you. Each time you shut me down before I got going. So, what made this time different?”
She shook her head. “I didn’t trap you. I didn’t get pregnant on purpose to steal this farm. It belongs to you and your family.”