“Troy.”
Startled by the cut of her voice, he whirled, grasping a cold metal bar as he said, “Miss Delaney.”
“Long time no see.”
Standing there in jeans and tank top, her long blonde hair pulled back into a ponytail, Delaney Wilkins looped thumbs from her front pockets. Four inches shorter than him, she stood rigid, as though on the defensive. She didn’t smile, didn’t move. She simply stared with those dark brown eyes of hers. Black brows and butter yellow hair made for a striking combination. Troy always found her to be an attractive older woman, one who didn’t take crap. He considered the gun he knew to be kept in her boot and gulped. A stern tone wasn’t the kind of reception he’d been counting on. “I hope you don’t mind me walking in uninvited, Miss Delaney, but Mr. Foster said I might be able to find you here.”
“You’re looking for me?”
“Yes, ma’am.” Troy removed his hat and advanced toward her. “He told me you were in charge of the stables.”
“I am.”
“I was interested in getting work. He told me to talk to you.”
“Work?” Curiosity sparked her black gaze. “What kind of work?”
“With the horses,” Troy replied. “I can train them, clean them, pick up after them. Whatever you need, I can do it for you.”
She cocked her head and crossed her arms. “Why are you looking for a job, Troy? Felicity told me you were working a ranch in Kentucky.”
“I was...” He dropped his gaze. “But I quit.”
“Quit?”
“Yes, ma’am,” he replied, hating the suspicion swirling in her gaze.
“Why?”
“I wanted to come back home.” At this, her features softened a hair, giving him the first hint of the woman he knew growing up, the one who treated Travis and him like her own. “But I need work, Miss Delaney, and horses are what I know. I’d make you a great ranch hand. Ask Mr. Foster—he can vouch for me.”
“Are you drinking?”
Nerves fired at the blunt question. “No, ma’am. No way. Not a drop.”
Delaney expelled a sigh and approached him. Her eyes darted back and forth across his as though she were looking for something, something hidden deep inside him. “Have you talked to Casey?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“And?”
Strands of resentment grew taut in his chest. “And she dumped me,” he wanted to spit. She moved on with that loser, Jimmy Sweeney. The thought scraped at his heart, made him bleed fresh and raw. Of all people, why did Casey have to pick him? The skinny dude was half-girl the way he always hung around, quiet, not saying two words most of the time. My girlfriend. Two words Troy could have gone his whole life without hearing come from Jimmy’s mouth. “I saw her at the diner today.”
“And?”
“And...” he tightened his grip on his hat, “she was with Jimmy Sweeney.”
“So?” Delaney pressed.
“So?” Troy grew angry but held himself in check. Did she need to drill it into him? Did she need to rub his face in it? What the heck—had everybody turned against him?
“Troy, stop playing games. Did you talk with her?”
“Dad gum, Miss Delaney, I saw her at the diner with Jimmy. They were sittin’ in a booth together. They’re datin’ now, I got the message. What else do you want me to say?”
Delaney stared at him mouth agape, like she didn’t understand English or something. What part didn’t she understand? He got it. Casey and Jimmy were dating. Did she expect him to be okay with it?
Because he wasn’t. He wasn’t okay with it and he wasn’t giving up. It wasn’t like Casey was married. Jimmy said girlfriend. That’s all the hope Troy needed.
But first, he needed a job. “Miss Delaney? Can I get a job or not?”
With a dumbstruck glance, she waved him to follow. “C’mon. Let me show you around.” Relief washed over him, the knots of doubt releasing as he did so. “I’m not saying you have a job,” she clarified over her shoulder, “but I’ll show you around just the same. I need to discuss it with Mr. Foster first.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he replied, wondering why. The man said it was her decision but Troy wasn’t about to argue. A chance was a chance and he’d take every one he could get.
After a tour of the stables, Delaney showed him around the barn, the paddocks. There were tractors and wash racks, a feed room and another office. The second one in the barn belonged to the groundskeeper while hers was in the main building. Passing by a pen on their way back, Troy noted the dirt was raked clean. It reminded him of the horse he’d trained for Mr. Foster, the one they said went sour. Did they ever find a home for the animal? He hoped they finished the job of training and hooked the horse up with the right owners. He was a sweet animal. Nothing wrong that a little TLC and rebuilding of trust wouldn’t fix. The black foal instantly came to mind. “How’s that little foal working out for you?”
“Excuse me?”
“The one you got from Mr. Foster. Vegas. Did you take him and his momma?”
She nodded, realization lighting up her eyes. “They’re here.” She pointed back toward the stables. “Fourth one down on the left.”
“Mind if I take a look at him?”
“Actually, Troy, I do.” Surprise cut him in half. Slowing, she stopped. Turning her back to the low rising sun, she cupped a hand over her eyes and said, “I think it’s best if we don’t get your hopes up.”
“My hopes?” he asked, his heart sinking into his boots.
“I need to think about it, discuss it with Mr. Foster.”
Because she didn’t fully trust him. Because he didn’t have a great track record of staying put. Either by his own will or his own stupidity, Troy couldn’t manage to keep a job for more than a few months. “I understand.”
“Do you?” she asked pointedly, the razored-edge of her question catching him off guard.
“Yes, ma’am. I’ve made some mistakes, but I’m here to fix them.”
“Fix them?” she looked at him queerly. “How so?”
“I know Casey’s with Jimmy Sweeney now, but I’m going to show her that I’m worth a second chance. I can be the man she needs me to be.” Casey had to see. Troy had to prove it to her. She didn’t like that guy. She’d been on the rebound from him and Jimmy took advantage. It was an advantage Troy was gonna wipe clean. “If you’ll give me the chance, I’ll prove it to you, too.”
Delaney ran a palm over her head and blew out a heavy breath. “I believe you will. Unfortunately, I’m not the one who matters.”
Chapter Four
Pulling up to Ashley Fulmer’s house for the annual Memorial Day party, a swarm of adrenaline pummeled Troy’s chest. One of the first ones here, he was practically able to drive onto her front porch. The party started at one and it was one o’clock on the dot. He’d never made it this early before, but he’d been so damn anxious for the party to begin he couldn’t wait. Now that he was here, fear battered like a jackhammer. Why was he so nervous? What did he have to fear? If he couldn’t win Casey back from a guy like Jimmy then he had no business trying to get her in the first place. Jimmy was nothing. He was skinny, stupid and totally not her type. Travis said the two were taking college courses together, but that didn’t mean anything. Travis was only trying to stir up trouble, rubbing it in that he wasn’t in college. So what. Troy parked and jumped out of his truck, slamming the door closed. Casey understood his desire to work with horses. She didn’t think he needed to go to college to do what he loved.
Hiking the short distance to Ashley’s house, Troy settled his gaze on the front porch. The house was painted barn red, flower pots spilling over with color, a pink hydrangea bush off to the side. There was an old wagon wheel propped up on one end of the home and a line of rockers set out across the front porch. Last year he and Casey had sat right there, in those very rockers, talking about his plans to skip college. She agreed with him. She told him he was the best horseman she knew. Said he could
do things with a horse nobody could. Pride mingled with doubt. Did she still think so?
She’d wanted him back then. They were friends, but then they were lovers. Vivid images of their last night together overwhelmed him. Her body, her willingness. She hadn’t been the least bit reserved. She’d forgiven him, heart body and soul. Could she want him again?
Troy dodged the front door and headed for the back. He’d learn soon enough.
Casey sat in the backseat of her stepfather’s truck, currently parked in the yard of Ashley Fulmer. Hands shaking, she tucked them in the wedge beneath her belly. Looking out over the sea of cars and trucks parked on the front lawn, dread rose like floodwaters in her chest. The three of them were here for Ashley’s annual Memorial Day picnic, but Casey couldn’t bring herself to open the truck door. “I’m not going in.”
Her mother, Annie Owens, sat in the front passenger seat, exchanging another one of those looks with her husband Cal, the ones that shouted, She’s fragile, she doesn’t know what she’s doing. “You can’t hide from him forever.”
“I’m not hiding.”
Oceans of blue submersed her with one look—the look of a parent who knew better and was about to say “I told you so.” “What do you call refusing to show yourself in public for the last forty-eight hours?”
Casey glanced away, her gaze inescapably pulled to Ashley’s house. Beyond the roof line, smoke billowed up into a blue sky from charcoal grills manned by her husband Booker. Every year he cranked out ribs and burgers and dogs that were to die for. Through rolled-up windows, Casey could faintly hear the sound of music. The party was in full swing—a party where everyone and anyone would be, including Troy. Nerves skirted through her pulse. She knew she couldn’t avoid him forever. She knew it was inevitable he find out about the baby.
But she wasn’t ready to have that discussion. There were too many unanswered questions and feelings tumbling through her. “I’m tired,” she lied.
“Casey.”
At the stern tone, she looked at her mother. “I’m not ready,” she insisted, suddenly overtaken by a wave of tears. They swamped her lower lids, drowned her eyes. She blinked and the tears fell hot onto her cheeks. “I’m not ready—can’t you understand that?”
Cal placed a hand to Annie. “Maybe we should let her come up when she’s ready.”
Yes! she wanted to shout. Listen to him! Her mother wavered and Casey held her breath. Please. Give me time. I need more time!
Acceptance slowly seeped into her gaze. “Do you promise you’ll come?”
“Yes.” The reply was automatic. “Yes, I’ll be in later.” Later, after she had time to make a plan, devise a way to avoid Troy, the hurt she’d caused him during their last encounter. He’d be here, she was sure of it. The Parkers never missed one of Ashley Fulmer’s parties. Ever.
“Okay.” Annie Owens reached a hand back and clasped one of Casey’s. With a gentle squeeze, she said, “Promise me you won’t take too long.”
“I won’t.”
“Okay. You can do this.”
Casey nodded.
With a ragged sigh, her mother looked to Cal. He pushed out his door, the metal closing with a thud. As he circled the hood to open her mother’s door, she said, “You can’t hide from him forever. At some point, you have to tell him.”
“I know,” Casey replied, her body fatigued by the mere thought.
Cal opened her mother’s door and held out a hand. “I’m here if you need me,” Annie added.
A fresh round of tears pushed into Casey’s eyes. “I know.”
For a moment, Casey thought her mother might stay put, but after a quick nod of her head, her mom smiled, her blue eyes brimming with love, the depths of which Casey was only beginning to understand. “Okay. See you in a few,” she said, her voice no more than a whisper.
Casey watched them go, the couple twin-dressed in their blue jeans and red shirts as they head in for the party. Regretting the need to sit alone in a car but knowing she couldn’t arrive unprepared, Casey had to get her mind right. She had to make a plan. Panic lodged in her throat. What would he say? What would she say?
I made you a promise when I left here and I aim to keep it.
What did he mean by that? Didn’t he already break it when he abandoned her for Kentucky? Didn’t he already break his word when he said they’d be together forever? Casey didn’t call leaving her home while he took off for Kentucky “being together.” Old anger threaded through her heart. Troy ditched her. Made love to her, made her believe in him and then ditched her. Ugly thoughts of Jillian Devane and Loretta Flynn entered through a side door of her mind, scraping and clawing and revealing their bodies to her like they most probably did to him. Casey slammed the door of her imagination closed. Her stomach tightened in one long spasm that stretched clear over the mound of her belly. Troy was nothing but a cheat. On a good day he was a dreamer. On a regular day he was a cheat.
Catching sight of the tall, lanky Jimmy Sweeney, Casey swiped the tears from her cheeks. She yanked at the door handle and pushed it open. “Jimmy!” Confused to hear his name, he turned. With another jab to dry her tears, she waved frantically. “Over here!”
His angular features softened in recognition. Brushing long hair from his eyes, he changed direction and headed toward her. “Hey, Casey!”
Easing down from the vehicle, she tugged at her dress hem and tidied her hair. “Let’s walk in together,” she said as casually as she could.
“Sure.” He stood by as she closed the door and came up to his side. Looking into the cab of the truck, he asked, “Where’s your mom and Cal?”
“They’re already inside.”
Disapproval pushed into his gaze. “And left you out here alone?”
“I wasn’t feeling well, but I’m better now.”
“Oh.” His expression tripped. “Are you sure?”
Irritated by the switch to mother hen mode, she said, “I’m fine.” Casey took off for the house, assuming Jimmy would kick into step with her.
He did. His long jean-legged strides closed the distance in seconds. “You’re looking nice today.”
Dressed in a bright red tent dress and black boots, her outfit hardly qualified as “nice,” but Jimmy insisted on complimenting her every time he saw her. It was as though he’d been reading from some pregnant mother manual. Pregnant women are insecure about their appearance so reassure them on a regular basis. Casey scoffed at the idea. Being pregnant didn’t bother her a bit—except for the change in her diet. She missed cheeseburgers and French fries. She missed drinking coke like it was water. She did like the way pregnancy felt, knowing she was carrying a baby around, one she could feel and talk to, one she was already experiencing incredible emotion toward. It was surreal in a way. Her body felt normal yet looked anything but.
As they rounded the last row of cars, Casey spotted Troy’s truck. Her heart stopped—then galloped out of control. He was here. Her limbs became hay sticks, her thoughts a jumble of emotion. The band was rocking loud and clear and by the number of cars parked out front, the dance floor would be full. Brushing shaky fingers through her hair, she organized it as best she could, then ran them over her brows to make sure they were in place, no hairs sticking up in odd positions. She cleared her throat, calmed her breathing and followed Jimmy to the back yard.
Turning the corner, Casey slowed, the smoky scent of grilled barbecue filling her nose. Her stomach grumbled in response. Tables were laden with food, a band belted out a rowdy tune. Another one of Ashley’s parties was in full swing. Running hands over her belly, Casey edged behind Jimmy as they neared the throng of party-goers, people she knew well, people she knew vaguely, everyone carrying on, laughing and smiling but not her. She searched for sight of Troy.
“Are you thirsty?” Jimmy asked as they weaved between clusters of guests, raising his voice in competition with a lively CCR tune blasting from speakers across the lawn.
“No,” she clipped. Angling for a better view
, she searched between bodies but didn’t see him. She saw Travis, Felicity, Delaney, Nick, Lacy, Malcolm, but no Troy.
“Are you hungry?” Jimmy asked.
“No,” she muttered, distraught by the possibility he might see her and she might not see him. She didn’t want him to have the upper hand. She wanted to see the look in his eyes when he discovered she was pregnant.
Jimmy stopped and she bumped right into him. “Jimmy!”
“You’re gonna hurt yourself cranin’ your neck like that.”
“I’m not doing anything of the sort!”
Taller than most, Jimmy scanned the crowd, able to see much more than she could. “He’s over there, by the band.”
“He is?” Casey rose up on tiptoe and struggled for sight of him. Using Jimmy as a balance, she studied faces but there were too many bodies between them, dancing, talking, eating, drinking—she couldn’t make his out!
“He’s coming over,” Jimmy said plainly.
Alarm fired through her veins. “He is?”
“Yep.”
Ohmigod, ohmigod. What was she going to do? What was she going to say? Hello again. Yes, I’m pregnant with your child, the one you ran off and left me to handle alone. Fear tingled across her skin. What would he think? What would he do?
As he came into her line of vision, Casey ducked behind Jimmy, pretending she was looking in the opposite direction. Heartbeats thundered in her chest. Ohmigod, ohmigod.
“Jimmy.” Troy spoke the name evenly.
“Troy,” came Jimmy’s steady return.
“Casey?”
Ladd Haven Page 4