“I, um, I’ll just excuse myself…” J.D. was edging toward the door, looking pale and even more awkward.
“Wait.” He focused on his aunt’s face. He generally didn’t think about his ex-wife, except to curse her very existence. And to know that even she was a better parent than he was to their precocious twin sons. “How bad was it? Is Tiff hurt?”
“Her injuries are critical. Her husband—”
“You can say his name.” They all knew it, after all, since the man had been in the picture long before Tiffany decided marriage to Jake was no longer her heart’s desire.
Before Adam Franks had become Tiffany’s lover, he’d been Jake’s friend. His best man, in fact.
Susan hesitated, looking grave. “Adam’s injuries were extremely severe. He didn’t survive.”
Jake slowly sat down in his chair as he absorbed that. There’d been plenty of times he’d cursed his one-time friend. But he’d never wished him dead. “Where are the boys?”
“With Bill and Jennifer still.”
Adam’s parents.
“Obviously they’re not up to keeping them for any length of time,” his aunt continued, looking worried. “But I just can’t see sending Zach and Connor back to boarding school under these circumstances. They were very close to Adam.”
Jake’s gaze fell on J.D. She’d reached the door. “We can finish this later,” she said softly. “You have more important things right now.”
He grimaced and wanted to insist that she stay. He wanted her to stay at Forrest’s Crossing. Period. And just acknowledging the thought was enough to remind him that he was the selfish bastard Tiffany had called him.
He’d barely given a short nod before J.D. slipped out the door.
It felt like she took all of the fresh air there was right along with her.
He looked back at Susan. “You talked with the boys?”
She nodded. “They’re upset, naturally.”
He didn’t ask the next obvious question. There was no need.
If he’d been a better father, his boys would have wanted to speak to him.
He rubbed his hand down his face. “I’ll have to go to California. You’ll come, of course.”
The boys were always more comfortable with her than they were with Jake.
“I can’t.” Susan’s face was torn. “The gallery showing is Friday, and then I’m hosting the charity ball on Saturday in Charlotte’s place since she had to go to that conference in Florence in your place.”
He’d forgotten his aunt’s photography showing. “Sidney can host the ball.”
“Sidney is in Germany trying to buy that horse she’s got her heart set on.” Susan paced. His mother’s sister was in her mid-50’s, but there wasn’t a gray hair to be found in her soft blond hair. The only real hint of her age was in the soft lines that had begun forming alongside her dark brown eyes. “There are times when I wish y’all would just settle on textiles or on horses.”
“Textiles help pay for the horses,” he reminded needlessly. Raising and running thoroughbreds wasn’t a poor man’s game. It hadn’t been for his grandfather or his father before him. “The boys’ll have to make do with me.”
“Oh, Jake. Don’t talk that way. Naturally, the boys will want you.”
She was trying to protect his feelings, as if he had some. But that was his aunt. The eternal optimist.
He, however, was about the exact opposite. He didn’t have faith in the positive outcomes of life. He couldn’t see the bright side of every situation.
He saw things exactly the way they were and when something needed doing, he did it. Right or wrong.
Bill and Jennifer were the only grandparent “figures” his sons possessed. Tiffany’s parents had died when she and Jake were still married. Jake’s father was dead, too. And he didn’t know, or care, where his mother Olivia was, much less whether she was still alive. After she’d profitably washed her hands of them all, they’d never seen nor heard from her again.
Susan was twisting her hands together again. “I can join you after the charity ball is over.”
He knew his aunt would turn cartwheels if it meant helping someone else. And he also knew he would take complete advantage of that fact, just like he always had.
Just like his father had before him.
Jake was exactly like his old man. They didn’t just share the same name. They shared everything else. From looks to temperament to talents. Jacob Forrest, Sr., had been a selfish bastard, and Jake Forrest was carrying on the tradition in the best of old-South ways.
“Tell Mabel what’s going on. I’ll fly out this afternoon.”
Susan looked relieved as she quickly left his study. Which made him wonder if even his devoted aunt had doubted his ability to do the decent thing where his sons were concerned.
He pushed out of his chair, looking out the bay windows behind his desk. From his vantage point, he could see only the steeply pitched roof of the main barn well off in the distance.
His bedroom upstairs afforded a better view. Not only of the barn, but of the rest of the stables, and the training track.
He’d spent a lot of mornings standing at the window of his room waiting for a glimpse of J.D. to arrive.
She always appeared shortly after dawn, when the first glimmer of sunlight would catch her slender, leggy form that was so easily eclipsed by the massive horses she tended. Often, he’d see her riding Latitude, her long curls flying out behind her as she leaned low and close over the horse’s back.
Even before Jake had gone to the barn that unforgettable night, those mornings spent watching J.D. even from afar had been the best part of his day. A slice of private and pure sanity in an otherwise insanely pressured life.
But now, unless he could talk her out of quitting, he was going to lose even those simple moments.
He shoved his hand through his hair and left by the French doors that opened to a spacious deck.
It would have been easier to drive one of the plentiful farm vehicles down to the stables. Instead, he walked across the acres of richly groomed lawn, taking the time to file away his feelings about the situation awaiting him in California.
It was the middle of the morning, and the track—when he reached it—was a beehive of activity.
He immediately spotted J.D. hosing down Latitude while Jake’s wizened head trainer stood alongside her. Miguel stood a full head shorter than she did. Hell, the diminutive former jockey stood a head shorter than everyone.
Jake walked closer until they noticed him and the hose in J.D.’s hand jerked a little, though she said nothing.
“Jake,” Miguel greeted him in his thickly accented voice. “I’m glad you come down today. I wan’ you to sign off on some—”
“Actually, I need to speak with J.D.,” he interrupted. If he let Miguel get his hooks in, it’d be hours before Jake would break free. And right now, that was time Jake couldn’t afford. “Now.”
Miguel’s graying eyebrows pulled together in a fierce frown. He snatched the hose from J.D., his displeasure evident.
For that matter, J.D. didn’t look any more enthusiastic, but she accompanied him into the sprawling building nearby that housed Miguel’s office. He waited until she was inside the untidy room before closing the door.
She glanced from the door to his face. “I’d rather leave that open.”
“I’m not going to jump you.”
Her lips tightened. “I didn’t think you would.”
Problem was, he was always thinking about touching her. It had only gotten worse since he’d found out exactly how addicting that particular delight was. “I have to go to San Francisco,” he said, corralling his thoughts. “Tiffany needs—”
“Of course,” she cut in quickly. Dismay darkened her eyes from brilliant green to a soft moss. “I’m sorry to hear your wife—”
“Ex-wife.”
Her head dipped a notch. “Well, I’m sorry about the accident. I’m sure your children will be relieved w
hen you get there.”
He doubted it. “I want your promise that you’re not going to cut and run while I’m gone.”
Sympathy drained away as she stared at him. “I beg your pardon?”
“The reason you wanted to meet with me was to turn in your resignation, wasn’t it?”
Her silky lashes drooped, shielding that wide gaze. “And that’s why you dangled Latitude in front of my nose?”
“I dangled Latitude because I want you training him to win. It has nothing to do with what happened between us.”
A hint of pink bloomed over her cheeks. “And if I told you I hadn’t been planning to give you my notice?”
He wouldn’t believe her. There was no other reason to explain why she’d asked to meet with him. She never had before. And it wasn’t as if she wanted a repeat of that night. She’d made that abundantly clear when she’d raced out of the stable that night, barely taking enough time to pull on her shirt and jeans.
“Lat runs best for you.” He focused on the facts. “And I want to go to the Kentucky Derby next May knowing he’s going to run his heart out for you. Bringing home a Derby winner’s the only thing my father and grandfather succeeded in doing that I haven’t.”
J.D. looked pained. “That’s just it. By May, I’ll have other things I’ll be focusing on.”
“What? Like offers? Honey, I know you get job offers from other trainers every time we go to a meet. But I’m asking you not to decide anything yet. Wait until I get back from California, at least.” He caught her slender shoulders, ducking his head to look into her face when she tried looking away. “Don’t let what happened a few weeks ago make you leave Forrest’s Crossing. I’ll talk to Miguel about you taking over Latitude before I go.”
“Six weeks ago.” Her gaze flicked up to meet his, only to skitter away again. “This is not going at all how I intended.”
She exhaled and looked weary as she pushed a racing schedule off the seat of a hard-backed chair and sat down. “Go to California, Jake. Your family needs you. We’ll talk when you get back.”
She hadn’t agreed to stay beyond that, but for the moment, he’d take what he could get.
When he got back, there’d be plenty of time.
Chapter Three
The last thing J.D. expected to see were two brown-haired heads sticking up over the side of her pickup bed when she came out of the Chinese restaurant. The brown paper bag of take-out she held slid right out of her nerveless fingers, landing with a plop on the pavement next to her feet.
It was Friday evening at the end of a very long, miserable week; she’d just spent over an hour fighting rush-hour traffic into the city, and the only thing she’d been looking forward to was a meal that required no work, and then bed. Maybe not even in that order.
“Zach. Connor.” Her voice was excruciatingly pleasant, as if she greeted Jake’s twin sons in the back of her pickup truck every day of the week. “What are you doing?”
“Going for a ride,” Zach replied with a “duh” sort of tone.
“That wasn’t very bright of you when you had no way of knowing where I was going.”
“You’re going home,” Zach returned just as quickly. “Arentcha?”
J.D.’s lips tightened a little. Jake had brought his sons back with him less than a week ago, and in that space of time, they’d managed to cause all manner of mischief around the place—from painting the legs of one of Miguel’s favorite broodmares fluorescent pink, to parachuting out of their upstairs bedroom using bedsheets.
It was a testament to their true creativity that they hadn’t managed to break their legs in that particular endeavor.
This, however, was the first time they’d directly involved J.D. in one of their stunts.
“Does it look like I live here?” She gestured at the busy little restaurant behind her where she’d just retrieved the food that was now sitting on the ground.
Connor frowned a little. “She’s not home,” he whispered to his brother. “And I gotta pee.”
“You always gotta pee,” Zach muttered. He sat up on his knees and folded his arms over the side of the truck, looking at J.D. with vivid curiosity. The hot, humid evening had caused messy tendrils of his brown hair to stick to his rosy cheeks. “I told Connor that you wouldn’t know we was back here, and I was right.”
A roadster waiting for her parking spot tooted its horn, and J.D. absently waved it on. “I have to call your father.”
Zach rolled his eyes. “Jake won’t care. He knows you’ll take us back.”
“Oh? Why are you so sure of that?”
“’Cause he said you always do what’s right.”
Her jaw tightened so much that it hurt. “Does he?” She wasn’t entirely certain how Jake would have come to that conclusion. “Get out,” she ordered, and watched while they scrambled out of the truck bed.
She felt like an idiot for not having noticed them back there before now, and supposed it was a measure of her preoccupation that she hadn’t.
The two boys came to a stop next to her.
Connor stooped to pick up the bag of food and peered inside. “I bet they’re fixing dinner by now.” He held the bag toward J.D. with a slightly more sheepish look on his face than the one on his brother’s. “You’re lucky it didn’t all spill out,” he told her. “Are those egg rolls?”
She ignored his hopeful look and took the bag from him before yanking open the truck door. “Yes. Get in.”
She waited until the boys were inside, then set the bag on her seat while she dragged out her cell phone and the business card that he’d given her. But all she got was his voice mail. She left a message, but then also dialed the house at Forrest’s Crossing.
Despite the hour, it was Mabel who answered. “I’m sorry, Ms. Clay,” Mabel told her in the same stiff voice she’d used two weeks earlier when J.D. had refused to tell the woman exactly why she’d needed to meet with him, “but Mr. Forrest isn’t available for calls.”
J.D. turned her back on the boys, only to turn around again just as quickly to keep her eyes on them. For all she knew, they’d decide to go joyriding in another person’s vehicle. “He hasn’t left town again, has he?” She’d have heard so from Toby, the new groom, who seemed to take great delight in following the activities of their wealthy boss.
“No, he’s in town.”
“Then this is a call he might want to take,” she advised flatly. “Regarding his sons.”
“Perhaps you misunderstood. Mr. Forrest is not available.”
Her hands tightened around the phone. “Mr. Forrest’s sons are with me in the city,” she returned through her teeth. “They were hiding in the back of my truck. Somehow, I think he’s going to want to know that, Mabel. Just in case he gets to wondering where they are when they don’t sit down at the dinner table!”
“Good heavens.” The woman’s tight voice softened a fraction. “But I’m afraid he really isn’t here. He ran out to the plant a few hours ago.”
J.D. pressed her fingertip to the pain that began throbbing between her eyebrows.
The two boys were sitting in the truck watching her with wide eyes and listening with wider ears. She pulled out the container of crispy, fat egg rolls and handed them to Connor, along with the napkins.
Then she turned away from the children and lowered her voice. “In that case, you’d better tell his aunt.” Someone had to care where these boys were. “It’s the middle of rush hour. It’s going to take me more than an hour to drive them back home again.”
“I’ll be sure to tell her right away. The twins were really hiding in your car? This is going to upset Mr. Forrest,” the woman fretted.
Considering it was the twins’ first week at Forrest’s Crossing, J.D. privately thought Jake might have been wise to forgo matters at Forco for a few more days. Forrest’s Crossing might have been a little safer.
Instead, the very day he’d arrived with them, she knew he’d left town that night and hadn’t returned until just a
few days ago.
Even though she knew she should, she hadn’t found a moment to speak with him privately again.
“I’m leaving the city right now,” she said. Then caught the way Connor was wriggling in his seat. “Well, after a quick pit stop, anyway.” She didn’t wait for some response from Jake’s personal secretary, but ended the call and tossed the phone onto the dashboard.
Then she waved the boys out of the truck. “Come on. You can hit the bathroom inside.” She locked up the truck after them and followed them back into the busy restaurant, pointing the way to the restrooms down a narrow hallway.
They came out within minutes, craning their necks around as if to take in every inch of the busy, congested little restaurant. The hunger in Connor’s expression was perfectly obvious, and she silently bid goodbye to the food waiting in the truck. “Did you wash your hands?”
Zach made a face. “We’re not kindergartners.”
That was plainly obvious. Even at nine years old, the Jake miniatures seemed tall for their age. “No kidding. Did you wash your hands?”
Connor snickered a little as he nodded.
Zach—obviously the more blasé of the two—just rolled his eyes before finally nodding.
She gestured toward the exit again. “Then let’s go.”
There were even more cars lined up in the full parking lot when they reached her truck again, and the moment the boys were buckled into their seatbelts and she pulled out of the spot, another car pulled in. “You might as well eat the rest.” She gestured at the bag sitting in the console.
They didn’t need any more urging and they practically tore apart the bag in their eagerness.
“When did you have lunch?”
Connor lifted a shoulder. He was wearing a red T-shirt and cargo shorts. Zach, busily unwrapping a plastic fork and spoon on the other side of him, wore blue jeans and a white T-shirt with some unreadable logo on the front.
“We didn’t,” Connor said. He didn’t wait for a plastic utensil, but picked out a piece of sweet-n-sour pork with his fingers and popped it in his mouth before handing off the container to his brother and fishing in the bag for another.
A Weaver Baby Page 3