Hot Quit

by Kathryn Roberts

  Everett got about half a shake of his head before Jackson started in again.

  “I’ll tell you why. She came here to talk you out of Rawlins, that’s why. She’s still manipulating and lying, that’s why.”

  Jackson stomped back to the tack room and hung the halter. When he came out, Everett began.

  “She didn’t come here to talk to me about Rawlins.”

  Jackson shot a pitying glance out of the corner of his eye as he closed the padlock on the tack room latch. “Give me a break. She told me that’s why she was here.”

  He started walking and Everett stood, thumbs in his pockets, waiting to see what reaction his words would have. “She’s lying.”

  Jackson stomped on.

  “I gave her Rawlins on the condition she’d never bother you again.”

  Jackson stopped short. “You what?”

  “The last contract I sent her was a gift. I told her Rawlins was hers, for nothing. All she had to do was stay out of your life.” He shifted and sauntered toward the younger man, whose puzzled look only deepened. “She was lying if she said she was here to see me about it, cuz she already turned it down, flat.”

  Everett strolled past Jackson, who seemed unable to move, and was quite a way ahead of him when he called out, halting the older man.

  “Then why would she lie now?”

  Everett turned and smiled. “Because, young feller, I think the woman does actually love you.”

  Jackson was speechless, but he found himself walking like a robot to Everett’s side and then following his lead while deep in thought. They ended up at Everett’s truck where he again imitated every move and got inside.

  “Why are you on her side all of a sudden? Why is she pure gold now and not before?”

  “No one said she had wings and a halo, but I’ll tell you this. When I looked into her background in the very beginning, all I saw was a barracuda. She went after anything she wanted and got it, no matter what. She and that partner of hers are pretty well known for being unbeatable in business, and if she was hunting your head, it was pretty certain she’d come up with it sooner or later.”

  As Everett pulled out into Ogden traffic, Jackson settled into his seat. “You told me all that before; what’s changed your mind? I know it wasn’t me.”

  “Nope. I thought you were so infatuated with her that I wouldn’t have believed much you told me about her. Besides, I figured she could lead you anywhere.”

  “Don’t give me any compliments. You make me sound like a snot-nosed kid who just had his first kiss.”

  “Don’t get me wrong, Jackson, but I’ve known you ever since you were a snot-nosed kid, and that’s precisely why I knew when you finally fell in love, it was going to be a forever thing. I just wanted to make sure the woman felt the same way. To begin with, I didn’t think Alex—”

  “Now wait a minute.” Jackson turned sideways in his seat. “You’re trying to manipulate my life worse than she is. I feel like a horse running uphill with hobbles on. I am trying, but I can’t seem to get up any speed because you’re hanging on to one ankle and she’s around the other.”

  Everett pulled into the Hilton parking lot. As soon as the engine was turned off, Jackson got out. “Just leave me alone for a while. Both of you.” He slammed the truck door.

  Everett watched the man who would inherit everything he had stride across the parking lot and go into the motel. “I suspect you’ll be doing a lot of thinking, son. Maybe I shouldn’t have interfered, but you’ll have to chalk it up to an old man trying to help. Yep, you’re a stubborn son-of-a-gun. You wouldn’t take my money, and I have to chase you down and beat you with advice before you’ll take it, but I have to try.”

  Later he called Jackson’s room, but there was no answer. Dinnertime rolled around and there was still no sign of him. Everett wasn’t worried, but he knew Jackson needed to focus on tomorrow’s finals. He was sitting good in every class and had a chance to win it all. The money would do him good, but the publicity would do him better.

  Jackson needn’t have worried. The next day every ride he turned in was golden. He turned in scores most people only dream about, and when the pictures were all taken and the celebrating began, Jackson was the top dog, the Open Champion. Everett kept an eye peeled all day for Alexandria, in case she might still be around, but never located her.

  The owners of the horses Jackson had showed to perfection planned a spur-of-the-moment dinner party, and he and about forty people paraded through the T.G.I. Friday’s. Jackson was jubilant and satisfied that he’d come back the right way, with hard work, talent, and good horse flesh. Beer, whiskey, and wine flowed freely, and toast after toast loosened Jackson’s normally reserved demeanor.

  Suddenly, amid the ribald celebration, a wave of melancholy washed over him. He saw Trisha sitting by herself in the corner and felt sorry for her. Not because she was on the fringes of the fun, but because she was alone and because he knew how that particular ache grew inside a person until it was overwhelming and debilitating.

  He rose from his seat, grabbing his drink as he went toward her.

  “Can I sit down?”

  She looked up, wary and defensive. “I suppose you can sit anywhere you want to. It’s your party.” She took a long drink and drained the last of her scotch. “I’d like another,” she ordered as the barmaid passed. “How about you, Jackson? Can I buy you a drink? It’s the least I can do for the man who rode my horse to victory.”

  “No thanks,” he said, as somber as a turkey on Thanksgiving Day. “I just thought you looked like you could use a little company.”

  “Don’t you dare pity me, Jackson. I can hear it in your voice and I don’t want it. Do you understand?”

  He leaned back and laughed. “What a pair we are. We both have everything we ever wanted but no one to share it with.”

  “What do you mean? Look at all these people here. They’re your family; they love you, Jackson. And then tell me there’s one of them that even likes me.” She nodded and took a swallow of his drink. “Yuck, watered-down whiskey.” She then giggled. “At least you don’t drink wine like all those other pansies.”

  She propped her elbow on the table and rested her cheek in her hand and looked at him. “We would have made a great pair, Jackson Morgan. But I blew it, didn’t I?”

  He smiled. “It just didn’t happen with us, Trisha. But there is someone out there who will fit the bill for you.”

  “Just like there’s someone out there for you, right, Jackson?”

  He nodded. “That’s right. There is someone out there for me.”

  “Alexandria,” she said as she nodded, helplessly lost in scotch. “She’s the one. I could see it the first time I saw you together. It just made me mad that you found someone and I didn’t.”

  He sat forward. “How come everyone is falling over themselves now, telling me she’s the one when before—”

  “She’s the one.” Trisha licked her lips and tipped his chin with her thumb and forefinger, as if she were preparing for a kiss. “It’s written in your eyes.”

  He swept her hand from his face. “I think you’ve had too much to drink. You’re seeing things.”

  Trisha had a few more things to say, but Jackson’s mind was stuck on the phrase “she’s the one.” From that point on, he heard only scattered bits and pieces of the party around him. The waitress brought Trisha’s drink and he took her hand in his. “Well, the coach is about to turn into a pumpkin and I have to get up early to load up horses and get home.”

  He kissed her hand, then stood.

  “Find me a prince, Jackson. If I can’t have you, then who’s second best?” Trisha’s pouty red lips and her delicate features would have demanded a second look from any man, but he knew what she really needed was a man to see beyond them, to the lost little girl who was calling out for love.

  “Hey, young fella, why haven’t I seen you out there with all your friends?” Everett walked up behind him.

  �
�Ev. Your timing is perfect. This lady is in dire need of a Prince Charming, and I can’t think of anyone better suited to fit the bill than you.” He pulled Covington to his side. “Trisha, this is Everett Covington. Now I know you’ve met, but tonight you are strangers. Trisha is looking for—” He blushed as he scanned her face. “Well, like I said, she’s been jilted and she needs someone who can make her forget her troubles. Everett, on the other hand, is a man among men and he…” Jackson looked into the older man’s eyes. “He’s good at picking up strays and showing them what life is all about.”

  Trisha giggled and Everett sat down beside her as Jackson backed away. Too bad life wasn’t a fairy tale where everything turned out happily ever after. Calling over the crowd to say good-bye, he turned and went out the door to the parking lot. When he turned the corner, he surprised a couple who had been kissing in the shadows. It seemed like love was all around him but just beyond his grasp. All the way to the motel, the feeling grew that maybe he was wrong. That maybe he’d really screwed up.

  It had been so good for such a short time. He had loved her and he’d thought she loved him.

  He got into bed and turned off the light. He wanted her in bed next to him. He wanted the feel of her hand as it brushed across his body and he wanted the sound of her whispering his name as they lay entwined between the sheets, bodies glistening with the glow of passion.

  So what was wrong? Why wasn’t she here with him?

  It was simple. He wanted not only her body but her soul. If she didn’t really love him, then she didn’t belong in his heart, in his soul, in his bed.

  He’d gone back to the arena to try to find her the day before, but she was gone. There were things he wanted to know, like why she lied to him about being there to see Everett, and every time he thought about her, there were more questions he wanted answered. Not the least of which, now that he’d thought about it, was: Did she love him or not?

  Jackson pulled the sheet close to his chin and rolled on his side. In fetal position, the reality of what he contemplated hit him. He loved Alex. It would be just like him to go straight to her and ask if she really loved him, but then he’d get an answer and there would no longer be any doubt.

  He did love her.

  What if she told him he’d been a passing fancy? That what she told him was love had been nothing more than infatuation? What would he do then, if he admitted now that she was part of him? Would he live a solitary and pathetic existence as Trisha did, taking out her misery on people around her?

  What if Alex said she could live without him?

  The next morning the wake-up call rang, and instead of the usual automated version, an operator told him there was a message for him. The caller said it was important that it get to Jackson before he checked out.

  The voice mail message was from Everett, who said it was late, he was returning the favor, and had found out where Alex was staying. Ironically, she was at the Hilton, the same place they were. “Just in case,” he’d said before he told him to drive carefully on the way home.

  Jackson sat up, swung his legs to the floor, and rubbed his eyes. The introduction to Trisha must have been the favor, and “just in case” was his not-so-subtle prod. Now was his chance. She was here and he could ask all the questions he wanted. Before he had the chance to talk himself out of it, he picked up the phone and asked for her room.

  It rang so many times he was sure she’d already gone, but suddenly she said hello, and he was hard pressed to squeeze out a single word.

  “Hi.” A long silence followed and he thought she might be preparing to hang up, so he began, somewhat feebly. “Alex? I wondered if you’d come have breakfast with me?”

  Another pregnant pause before she finally answered. “I’ll have coffee with you, but I need to be getting to the airport.”

  “Fine. Downstairs at the coffee shop in fifteen minutes?”

  “OK.”

  The connection broke and Jackson found himself as breathless as if he’d just run a mile.

  Only fifteen minutes—holy mackerel, why hadn’t he given himself more time? He jumped out of bed and sprinted to the bathroom, turned on the shower, got in, got out, and dried off. He checked his watch. Five minutes left. He had to hurry. What if he was late and she left? He pulled on socks, pants, and boots. He grabbed a shirt; better button up and tuck it in on the run.

  He got to the elevators just in time to see the doors close on a down car. He pushed the button frantically, hoping another was close. By the time he’d finished with the buttons, the bell rang, and he stood in front of the doors with unzipped pants, tucking in his shirt.

  The door opened and two women, one gray and the other graying, greeted him with wide eyes.

  “Sorry, my girl is waiting downstairs.” He stuffed the tail in and tried to smooth it. “I’m going to ask her to marry me.”

  They snickered between them, and by the time the elevator reached the ground floor, they were checking him out.

  “You’ve got a fly-away hank of hair,” one said as the door opened.

  “Thanks,” he said as looked at his watch and leaped from the elevator.

  “Good luck,” called out the gray-haired woman as he rounded the corner.

  Jackson trotted the long concourse, dodging people until he was almost to the coffee shop. He slowed to a fast walk. Fourteen minutes. He slowed even more. She wasn’t there. He had a clear view of the entrance, and she was nowhere to be found.

  His mind began backtracking. He’d been a fool to say fifteen minutes. Alex never got ready for anything in fifteen minutes. She’d probably agreed just so he’d have to wait. He sauntered to the hostess and she waved him in.

  “The lady is waiting for you.” She pointed toward the back, and he saw Alexandria sitting, waiting.

  He walked closer, his heart beating, a slight sweat breaking out on his forehead that could have been from the sprint to get there or from nervousness—he didn’t know which.

  She wasn’t smiling, and that unnerved him completely. He remembered the tone of their last encounter and whatever courage he had evaporated like mist on a hot day.

  The minty-green business suit she wore made her skin look more bronzed than ever, and although her hair was wound behind her head, the front was soft around her face. He walked to the edge of the table, feeling as awkward as a pup on its first excursion across the lawn.

  “Have a seat,” she said, all business. “As I said, I have to get to the airport.”

  He pulled a chair out and sat down. “It’s your plane, it’ll wait.”

  Her brows rose and she started to say something, but he cut her off. “Alex, I want to start over.”

  “It would be nice if we could undo things that didn’t go well.” She sipped from her cup. “But unfortunately that’s not always possible.”

  “I think it is in this case.” He leaned forward to look directly into her blue eyes. “We owe it to ourselves—”

  “I’m not sure where this is headed. If you are going to call me a liar again”—her business cool began to heat up—“I’d rather end it right now.”

  She put both hands on the table and started to stand, but Jackson put his hand over hers. “No, please. Wait,” he said, panic creeping in. “I don’t know how to start, but I do know I have things to say, things that should have been cleared up a long time ago. I swear I won’t say anything about lies. Just sit down.” His eyes pleaded with her. “Please.”

  Slowly she sank to her chair. He hated the deer-in-the-headlights look that she was trying to cover up.

  “So far we’ve been honest, we’ve been angry, we’ve been curious, and we’ve been partners. The one thing we haven’t been is friends.” He released her hand and plucked a carnation from the bud vase in the center of the table. “I want to be able to hand you a flower and know you won’t throw it back at me.”

  She smiled, her shoulders relaxed, and she took the bloodred flower.

  “There’s so much we don’t know
about each other because we’ve been intent upon setting up a protective shield. Just now it struck me that we need to find out just who is sitting across the table so we can be friends.”

  “It sounds good, but I don’t think it’s going to work. We are so different,” she argued, sadness in her eyes.

  “No. Trust me on this, Alex. I think it’s what we need.”

  On hearing her nickname, she twisted in her chair, as if she were taking a deep seat on a rank bronc. “All right. Go for it. Where do you want to start?”

  “I want to start with pancakes and eggs.”

  “What? I told you I have to—”

  “Relax.” He waved to the waitress. “The airplane is yours, I told you. I think I’m making progress and I can’t stop now.”

  “I’ll have pancakes and scrambled eggs, she’ll have toast and orange juice,” he told the waitress with Coke-bottle glasses.

  “No,” Alexandria was going to protest, but she saw the determination on his face and knew it was useless. “OK. Now we’re having breakfast. What next?”

  “Next,” he said, leaning back, suddenly feeling things were beginning to go well, “I want you to tell me how you got to be one of the world’s foremost corporate raiders.”

  She blushed and he laughed.

  “That’s according to Ev, who, by the way, told me he tried to give you Rawlins.”

  “But I didn’t—”

  “Don’t change the subject. Back to the question at hand, Madam Chairperson. How?”

  She eyed him slyly before she answered. “I lived with board meetings and profit and loss all my life. My father brought the most influential people in the world home, and over dinner I listened to financial schemes that worked and ones that failed. I learned how to bargain and how to see what the bottom line was at an early age, and when I graduated, naturally I fell into the business. Besides,” she added, her face becoming a series of hard lines, “the only way to get my father to recognize me was to beat him at his own game.”