“Sorry I was short with you earlier.”
She snickered. “If by 'short' you mean all broody and bad moody, then it's totally forgiven.” She adjusted her pillows and blankets until she was on her back beside him, the standard eighteen inches in between.
“Why are you out here with me tonight? Shouldn't you be writing?”
A small growl sounded in the back of her throat. “My phone wouldn't stop ringing. So I shut it off and then the room phone started to ring. I needed some peace.”
Jesse frowned, not liking the sound of that. “Who's calling you?”
She sighed heavily. “My uncle Vic and sometimes his wife Brenda and my other uncle Dennis.”
Jesse had been so concerned with the next race, and Red's temperament, and all the little things that went along with that he'd momentarily forgotten about Ryan's legal drama. Of course, it wasn't like she was talking about it all that often. She did that, though. Didn't bother him with her regular life stuff. He was going to have to be more diligent about asking.
“What's the update on all of that?”
“Ugh. Well, the good news is the judge threw their contest out because they have absolutely nothing to present for their argument. The bad news is, that means they're trying something new.”
“Which is...?”
“Guilting me into something I haven't quite pinpointed...”
Her voice trailed off, the telltale signal that her brain was swirling with ideas that she wasn't ready to vocalize. She wasn't stupid. She probably knew exactly what they trying to do but wasn't practiced in calling them out on it.
“How did they know you were here?” he asked, walking her through the steps.
“I told them. Being honest is a habit of mine.” She shrugged. “That was before they started calling me continuously.” She rolled over and braced herself on her elbows. “They keep asking me how the horses are and if I have any hot tips to give them for the next race.”
Jesse's stomach tightened. The Spores were known gamblers. They were even banned from placing bets at different tracks because of their inability to lose gracefully.
“And how's your honesty habit with those questions?” he asked carefully.
She folded her arms and rested her head on them, facing Jesse. In the midst of her movement, she'd unconsciously gotten closer to him. He felt the warmth of her breath as she whispered her reply.
“Why do you think I quit answering my phone? It's one thing to ask about me, but it started to feel... weird. You know what I mean? Like, I'm really confused. Why would they try to get the inheritance, treat me like I'm some sort of spoiled brat, and then turn around and act like they care about my life? Don't they know I can see through their disingenuous outreach? Or do they truly believe I'm that stupid?”
Jesse knew exactly what they were doing. Those people were dicks. But he had a feeling Ryan was going to give them the chance they definitely did not deserve.
“What if they just don't know how to be good people?” she asked, and he could hear it in her voice. She was going to get wrecked by them in order to learn this lesson.
Sometimes that's the only way people could learn, though.
Wasn't that how he'd finally learned it?
They were the same, except that he was ahead of her in risk and retribution.
“They're not being sincere,” he stated flatly.
“I know,” she said softly and it killed him. Because she did know. But she was going to give them a chance anyway.
Jesse pinched the bridge of his nose and took a slow breath. He cared. He cared way too much about her and her future. He released his nose and dropped his hand to rest on his stomach.
“You wanna help me workout Red tomorrow? I need a rider and since you'll already be here in the morning...?” he asked, deliberately shifting the subject away from things that were only going to frustrate him.
“Uh...” She swallowed. “I, um, yeah that's not going to happen.”
“Why not?”
“I've gained quite a bit of weight, obviously.” She chuckled without humor. “I think that might be a bad idea.”
Jesse frowned hard. Images of Ryan over the past couple of months raced through his head. He hadn't really been paying attention, but now that she'd said it out loud, he knew what she was talking about. She had gained some weight, rather quickly, too.
“Do you know why?” he asked, thinking about their often shared pizza, sandwiches and beer.
Ryan rolled onto her back again. “I've been trying not to think about it.”
Stress.
Jesse nodded. That made sense. She'd had a lot going on recently.
“Let's fix it then,” he said solidly.
A singular laugh huffed from her lips. “Yeah, okay.”
“Trust me, Ryan. It's what I do. I can take a losing horse and turn him into a champion in four weeks, I can help you get your cortisol under control.”
“You really think that's all it is?” she asked, hopefully hushed.
“I do.” He turned his head her direction. “Why? What did you think it was?”
She shook her head. “I didn't know. I just thought it was my new life and I'd have to get used to it.”
Jesse's hand found hers in the dark and he laced their fingers together. A few weeks ago, she would have yanked her hand away. Instead, she squeezed his hand, allowing their shoulders to press together. She tilted her head slightly and warmth from her cheek seeped through his shirt and into his arm.
It wasn't huge.
But it was everything.
eleven
“Keep your hands open and your touch gentle.”
Lexington, Kentucky
Keeneland Race Course
Ryan woke up with a start. Sucking in air she sat up, disoriented.
Jesse was sliding his arms slowly into his canvas jacket, his eyes on her. “You okay?” he asked.
The pre-dawn light filtering into the stable made him stand out in profile — navy shadow on cobalt canvas. His face cast in planes of blue and silver highlighted his intensity, even at this hour.
Ryan put a hand to her face and rubbed her eyes. “Yeah. Bad dream, I think.”
She was guessing, but when she said the words, ugly images resurfaced and her stomach turned.
Jesse crouched down in front of her, concerned eyes scanning her face. “You wanna talk about it?”
“No,” she answered automatically, shaking her head. “It's not a big deal.” The remaining images dissipated, leaving behind a sickness in her gut like she'd just been punched.
Jesse hesitated and Ryan felt it.
Tomorrow was race day, which meant neither one of them had time to be distracted by their private lives. It needed to be all about Red and the team. He knew it. She knew it. They needed to get on with it.
Ryan got to her feet. “I'll get showered and bring you a coffee. We'll go check the big guy's vitals and get a feel for things.”
Jesse had stood with her and nodded in agreement. He turned toward the door but shot her a look before he left. “If you need anything...”
“I know.” She did know. Jesse would drop everything if she said she needed a minute. It was a responsibility she had become acutely aware of. Especially the last couple of weeks.
Her phone calls with Jeremiah had been less and less frequent and mostly just a lot of “let's talk about this later” and “glad you're still alive.” It probably wasn't the healthiest engagement in the history of the world, but Ryan didn't know how to fix it from so far away. Not with everything else that was going on.
Jesse had been adamant that she reduce her stress level. Whatever that meant. As far as she could tell, the only way to be less stressed would be to start a whole new life.
That wasn't an option.
At least her relatives had backed off and given her some space.
Although it had her feeling incredibly conflicted. She had hoped they would just be nice to her. After all, they were the only
family she really had.
Well, besides Caleb.
Her bad dream surfaced in the form of a shudder.
Caleb had arrived at the stables yesterday. He'd come to talk to Ryan and Jesse about Red's progress. Ryan spoke to him the way she would any boss, but the whole time she was thinking, “This is my dad. I'm having a conversation with my dad about my job. This is amazing.” She tried to curb her excitement, but it was difficult.
Jesse had picked up on that, too.
Ryan showered in her motel quickly, thinking not for the first time that the motel was a waste of money since she'd pretty much been sleeping in the stables nightly. But she couldn't exactly tell anyone that. That would defeat the purpose of keeping their sleeping quarters a secret.
No one had tried to mess with Red since Belmont. Which was good, but it had Jesse on edge, waiting for the other shoe to drop.
They were both so tightly wound, it was amazing one of them hadn't completely lost it yet. Maybe it was because they were taking turns grounding each other.
She plugged in the coffee maker and started to brew a pot. It was a full-size maker that she'd picked up a couple weeks ago. She and Jesse were both hardcore addicts and those little pots in the motels were basically a joke.
As she waited for the coffee, she opened up her laptop and checked her messages.
So far, her stories on the fiction site were getting a lot of hits. So many that she kind of doubted the readings were accurate. But she was also receiving a ton of comments and feedback from readers, so maybe the numbers weren't wrong.
“Another message from Annie the Editor,” she chuckled to herself as she read Annie's most recent plea to let her edit for her pro-bono and get her stories published. It was a ridiculous idea that had Ryan rolling her eyes and shaking her head most days.
And she was fairly certain that Triston had started to troll her stories under the name “Fred.” His comments matched his tone and diction of his emails, and he spoke to her with familiarity. It gave her a smile whenever she saw his comments pop up. Plus, she'd chosen as her username “Holly Golightly.” So the fact that he saw himself as Fred in their little arrangement made it that much more comical to her.
Sometimes Annie and Fred would argue in the comments about what she needed to work on, surprisingly Annie was the harshest critic. Fred was more inclined to argue on behalf of Ryan's voice.
Ryan never interacted with either one of them.
Her cell phone rang and she looked at the ID before answering it, as she'd been more prone to do in recent days. Frowning, she swiped to answer it, wondering why on earth her neighbor, Isabella, would be calling her.
“Hello?”
“Ryan... I'm so sorry to call you while you're working.”
“It's okay, Isabella, what's up?” Ryan asked, feeling the sickness in her belly grow stronger.
“Did you, by chance, loan your car to anyone while you were out of town?”
“What?” Ryan's eyebrows snapped together. “No. Why?”
Isabella sighed and then cleared her throat. “One of your mother's brothers came this morning and took it. I tried to stop him, but he said that you told him he could use it while you were out of town.”
So much for reducing her stress.
twelve
“When you lose your temper, make sure it's worth it.”
Vinton, Louisiana
Delta Downs
Delta Downs Jackpot
November
“Yes, I'll hold.” Again. Ryan pushed her bangs out of her eyes and squinted against the sun.
Red was in fine form this morning as he flew around the track for a “light” workout. After winning the Keeneland Breeder's Cup by five lengths two days ago, she was surprised to see him with so much energy today. But maybe she shouldn't be. It seemed the longer Red was on the road, the more comfortable he became.
“Some horses are just born for it.”
Ryan started and twisted her head to her right.
Caleb joined her at the fence line, resting his forearms along the top rail. No suit today. Instead he was in denim and pressed cotton. The dark green of his shirt brought out the gold flecks in his eyes as he cast a sideways glance at her, half-squinting against the bright sun.
Ryan's body locked, the phone still firmly pressed to her ear with “light sounds of the 80's” playing in the background.
She cleared her throat. “Jesse is on the other side.”
“I know.” Caleb nodded, eyes trained on the thunderous beast that had brought them all together to share this awkward moment. “I was over there already. I wanted to speak with you, though.”
“Me?” Ryan heard the panic in her voice and hoped futily that he couldn't.
“Hello, Miss Zacherson?” the voice came back over the phone.
“Yes,” she confirmed, wondering why things had to happen the way they did.
“We do have the vehicle in question. Unfortunately, I can't give you any more information unless you can prove to be the vehicle's owner.”
“I'm in Louisiana right now.” Ryan's vision clouded over and she felt a headache start to bloom at the back of her head.
“Yes, ma'am, I understand that. I wish I could be of more help, but that's all I can tell you since the vehicle is part of an ongoing criminal investigation.”
“Criminal investigation?” Ryan felt sick. She shouldn't really be surprised. When she'd called Vic to find out where her car was, she'd had to piece together Brenda's drunken explanation.
“Yes, ma'am. Would you like me to transfer you to the detective assigned to the case?”
Ryan swallowed and closed her eyes. “Can you just give me his name and the case number? I'll have to call back later.”
“Certainly.”
Ryan hung up the call after receiving the information and opened her phone's notepad where she copied it down before she could forget it.
“Sounds like you're having some troubles.”
Ryan's eyes snapped up to Caleb, who was watching her with a much more guarded expression than he'd been wearing just a few minutes ago.
“Yeah,” she said slowly, wanting this moment to be different in more ways than she could count. “Vic decided to 'borrow' my car while I was out of town. It's currently in the police impound.” She shrugged one shoulder.
Caleb's jaw worked under his skin for a minute before he straightened to his full height and crossed his arms over his chest. “Do you have a lot of contact with your mother's family?”
“No,” she breathed, her eyes getting hot at the mention of her mom coming from her dad's lips. She had so many questions she wanted to ask him. Questions she'd been pushing aside because she hadn't wanted it to interfere with her job. Why didn't he come to the funeral? Why didn't he ever try to contact her ever? Why did he leave?
She cleared her throat. “I mean, there's been some recent contact. But nothing that I really understand.”
He eyed her suspiciously. Finally, he took a breath and nodded to the track. “Keep me updated on his progress.” He turned around and walked away without waiting for a reply.
Ryan watched him go, heaviness filling her limbs and rendering her numb. So much for the father-daughter talk.
***
“They're the worst,” Jesse said around a mouthful of pizza. Ryan's half-smile aimed in his direction did nothing to diminish his irritation. He pointed his half-eaten slice at her. “The worst.”
She shrugged and picked at the toppings on her mostly untouched slice. “I don't know. Maybe it was just a bad choice. We all make those sometimes, right?
Jesse rolled his eyes and grimaced. “No. Ryan, they stole your car.”
“I know,” she said, sighing.
“And drove around drunk until they mowed over a federal mailbox!” He raised his voice, wondering why she wasn't as fired up about this as he was. It was her car, after all.
She nodded but she wasn't listening. Jesse watched her face frown and sadden and think
quietly.
“What else happened today?” he asked gently.
Her eyes flicked up to his and he could see a fresh hurt that hadn't been there yesterday. Something new.
“Caleb came to talk to me today.”
Jesse went on alert but asked slowly, “Oh, yeah?”
Ryan nodded and set her pizza slice back in the box without having taken a bite. “Nothing really happened, I guess. He left shortly after overhearing the impound lady telling me about my car.”
Jesse took a deep breath. He didn't know all of the reasons, hell, he didn't know any of the reasons that Caleb Zacherson avoided his daughter like she was a contagious disease. It never made sense to him. She was smart, she worked hard, she was nice. All qualities he assumed a father would like to see in his offspring. At first, Jesse thought maybe Caleb was being sensitive to nepotism. But after a few conversations he'd had with the man, that was clearly not the case.
“Is there like a huge sign on my face that says, 'Watch out! I ruin lives!'” She chuckled without humor and the reoccurring pain in the left side of Jesse's chest made a sharp return.
“No, darlin',” he said gently, but Ryan wasn't listening. She closed her eyes and dropped her head.
“I know what it is,” she said darkly. “It's because of who I am. It's that simple and that impossible to change.”
Jesse couldn't disagree more. But he didn't have the words she needed to hear. Some of this was going to have to be learned with time. And he didn't have that.
Ryan pulled her laptop over to her. “I think I'll write for a bit if that's okay with you.”
“As long as you don't mind that I read while you do it,” Jesse countered.
Ryan gave him a soft smile. “I think I would like that.”
***
Caleb indicated to the bartender to refill his bourbon one more time. It wasn't the top of the top shelves, but it was decent enough. Never one to corrupt his liquor he still drank it neat.
And alone.
The only person he'd ever shared these moments with was long gone.
Stubborn Hearts Page 9