Jay broke away from his father’s grip and turned to confront him, his gaze strafing the older man’s face. “And right into the bed of another woman.”
Carter frowned. “What kind of crap has your mother been feeding you?”
“My mother is dead, remember? And she never fed me anything. I’ve always had two eyes.” Jay stood his ground, his heartbeat soaring in his ears,
Carter’s eyes narrowed and his voice lowered. “Have you got something to say to me, boy? What is it?”
“You make me sick,” Jay spat. “You run around like some horny tom cat, bedding women and leaving them when your fancy turns. You don’t care about the children you leave in your wake, or the other lives you hurt.”
“Is that all?”
“No.” Jay should have heard the warning in his father’s voice, but he couldn’t stop himself. “I’m not even sure I like computers, let alone want to spend my whole life developing computer systems for your stupid company.”
“You ungrateful little bastard,” Carter said through clinched teeth.
“Bastard? No. I was born three years after you married my mother. I seriously doubt that I’m the bastard.” The audacity of his words shocked even him. A strange exhilaration surged up Jay’s spine, and he lifted his chin in defiance.
That’s when Carter slugged him. A sudden pain reeled him backward from the well-delivered punch to his jaw. It took less than a second to realize what his father had done, and even less time to maintain his balance and right himself. Jay glared at the man who had fathered him but who had never been a father. Heart in his throat, Jay balled his fist, wanting to strike back. He squared his shoulders.
“I guess the truth hurts,” he said quietly.
Lori had rushed to her husband’s side, and now clutched his arm. “Carter, what’s wrong?”
Carter stood like stone. The only movement was the flex and release of the fist that had hit his son. There was something in his eyes akin to regret, but whatever it was, he didn’t act upon it. Instead Carter turned to his wife.
“It appears that my son doesn’t appreciate the opportunities I have given him.” He did not look at Jay. “Since that’s the case, I wash my hands of the ungrateful son of a bitch.”
Lori’s look of triumph was obvious. Carter turned and drew her away—never looking back.
“He can find out what it’s like to make it on his own” Carter said to his new wife loud enough for all to hear.
“So build your kingdom without the prince,” Jay shouted at the retreating back.
His father’s words left him reeling more than the blow to his chin. Had Carter disowned him? A sluggish, fearful pain crawled through his stomach. Jay slowly opened his balled fist, splaying his fingers out wide.
As suddenly as the fear came to him, Jay experienced a great surge of relief. The mantle of the Preston fortune was gone. He had a chance to discover for himself if he could make it on his own merit in a field far away from computers.
Somewhere in the crowd, the bride threw her bouquet. His father didn’t know it, but he had just thrown his son a symbolic bouquet. Maybe he could find someone who would love him for himself alone.
For the first time in his life, Jay Preston was free.
Chapter Two
Wildwood Stables
Near Prospect, Kentucky
“I think you’ll like my mommy,” a small voice said.
Jay glanced from the horse he was brushing into the sincere blue eyes of a blond-headed girl. She was taller than his sister Gloria, and looked older, maybe by two years. But, like Gloria, she had a seriousness about her that made her seem more mature for her young years.
“What makes you think so?” Jay asked.
“She’s very pretty,” the girl answered quickly. She paused a minute, as if trying to figure out why a guy like him would be interested in her mother. “And she’s smart.”
Jay answered in a seriousness to match the girl’s own. “I like smart women.”
The girl brightened at his comment. “She’s very good, too.”
“It’s important for a mother to be good,” Jay agreed.
“She doesn’t date much.”
“Oh?”
At that moment, the horse Jay was grooming snorted and stamped an impatient hoof. Turning back to the big animal that was cross-tied in the spacious stall, Jay raked the hard brush over the horse’s dark brown coat.
“Do you like being a groom?”
Jay looked down once more, this time not pausing in his work. He found the question intriguing, for in the week he had been at Wildwood Stables, an American Saddlebred show barn, he had not thought about liking the job. He’d just been grateful Mary Wilder had given him one and not asked many questions.
Pausing, Jay glanced at the little girl. He did like the hard work and long hours of a caretaker’s job. He didn’t mind rising early or the minimum wage. He had wanted to change his life, and he’d done that—big time. The physical work beat sitting behind a computer for ten hours a day.
“Yes, I like being a groom.” Jay nodded and extended the hard brush toward the child. “Hand me the soft brush, will you?”
As they exchanged brushes, they exchanged smiles. The little girl blushed.
“What’s your name?” Jay turned back to the show horse.
“Jessica Mercer, but you can call me Jesse.”
“Nice to meet you, Jesse. My name is Jay.”
“I know.” The girl’s timid giggle gave away her obvious interest in him. She turned and scampered away.
Jay smiled to himself. Was he the object of a pre-teen crush?
Finished with the soft brush, Jay began to gently pull a comb through the animal’s black tail untangling the coarse strands of horsehair. It was a good thing he liked children, because this new job brought him into close contact with several horse-crazy little girls whose parents had bought horses for them to show.
Jay shrugged at the irony. If Carter hadn’t insisted on riding lessons and competing in shows, he would never have gotten this job in Prospect, Kentucky, as far away from Silicon Valley and Carter Preston as he could get.
“Mommy, come meet Jay.”
The little girl was back, and she had her mother in tow. Glancing over the rump of the horse, Jay watched Jesse haul the reluctant woman toward the open stall door. Give the lady credit. A matchmaking daughter might be embarrassing, but the mother met Jay’s gaze directly with a friendly smile.
At the moment of eye contact, Jay was speechless.
Jesse’s mother had honey blond hair, long and straight, with sun-streaked highlights running through it. She wore it pulled back from her face, caught at the nape of her neck by a thick band. Her bangs touched her darker eyebrows, setting off expressive eyes, blue like those of her daughter. She had a fair complexion, also tanned by the sun. What struck Jay most was the unaffected aspect of her appearance, the sincerity in her eyes, and the way her hand strayed to her daughter’s shoulder, supportive and loving. Much as his mother Martha had supported him.
When she spoke, Jay heard the woman’s words as if from a distance. They were soft, like the fluttering of angel’s wings, with a touch of a Kentucky accent.
“My daughter tells me you’re the new groom.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he answered, wondering why his own voice sounded like a shrill schoolboy.
The horse chose that instant to grow restive. He kicked out with a hind leg, a metal shoe striking the wall with a resounding bang.
“Hey,” Jay complained to the bay gelding, glad he’d been standing away from the offending hoof.
“Are you okay?” the mother asked.
“Yes. You can never take one of these horses for granted. I wasn’t anywhere near his hoof.”
“I warn Jesse all the time, but she sometimes forgets Dr. Doolittle weighs a thousand pounds.” She ruffled Jesse’s hair.
Jesse shook her head in protest of her mother’s touch. Jay moved around the horse and ducked under
the cross ties.
“Dr. Doolittle is your pony?” He dropped the comb into the grooming box on the ground.
“Yes, isn’t he wonderful?”
“He’s the best five-gaited pony in the barn.” Jay grinned, knowing Doolittle was the only one in the barn. “Will you hand me that rag?”
Jesse’s mom picked up a terry cloth towel from where it hung across a saddle. As she handed it to him, her fingers brushed his. Started by the touch, Jay glanced at her.
She blushed as prettily as her daughter. There was something oddly familiar about her.
Jay cleared his throat. “Thanks, Mrs. Mercer.”
“Carrie,” she said, inclining her head slightly.
“Carrie,” he repeated and lapsed into silence, staring at her, mesmerized by the delicate- texture of her honey-bronzed skin.
After a while, the silence grew uncomfortable. Yet he couldn’t snatch his eyes away from her face. He watched as she licked her lips, almost as if she too were transfixed.
“My mommy isn’t married,” Jesse spoke up, breaking the silence.
“Really?” Jay snapped out of his strange absorption.
He turned his back on them, glad for an opportunity to recover his equilibrium. Wasn’t married, huh? Lifting the towel, Jay wiped the horse’s nostrils.
“Jesse, why don’t you go see if Meg is still here?”
Did he detect confusion in Carrie’s voice? Jay heard Jesse scamper down the aisle away from them.
“I’m sorry about my daughter. She has a habit of playing matchmaker.”
“I’m not,” Jay said, turning abruptly to catch a look of dismay in her eyes. “Sorry, that is,” he added and dropped his gaze as he draped the towel over the side of the box and picked up a hoof pick.
He stood and searched her eyes, a stab of anticipation playing havoc with his heart. Silently, she watched him.
“She’s a cute kid.” His voice sounded winded as if he had jogged around the block.
“Sometimes she’s too cute,” Carrie’s eyelashes fluttered over her wide eyes as she looked down at the dirt floor.
He thought her disarming. She seemed open and honest. Shy. Not like the women he usually attracted. And she didn’t look old enough to be a mother, for she was slender, wearing denim jodhpurs that clung to her legs and hips like a leather glove fit a hand. Her black riding boots looked almost like expensive running shoes, and her white t-shirt, that said “American Saddlebred” on its front, betrayed her pleasing figure.
“Do you ride?” He took a step toward her, ignoring the tight knot in his stomach.
“Yes, I’ve ridden for years.” Her voice caught as she stared up at him.
He towered over her. Jay swallowed hard, strangely wanting to put his hands on her shoulders and draw her to him. But he remained immobile. His fingers clutched the hoof pick. Swallowing again, Jay turned back to the horse.
“I just love it.” She hesitated a moment. “In fact, I made sure Jesse started taking lessons at three. We couldn’t afford two horses, so I take lessons, my weekly horse fix.” She paused again. “I never want to live my life through my daughter.”
“I can relate to that,” Jay said, thinking of how his father prided himself on his son’s programming genius. Grasping the horse’s hind leg, he rested the hoof between his knees and cleaned the caked dirt from around the horseshoe. “You know, you look familiar to me.”
Carrie ogled the hip pockets of Mary Wilder’s newest employee. She fought the wry twist her mouth took, slightly amused by her reaction to the young groom. Stepping away from the open doorway, she hid herself behind the lower part of the wooden stall and looked at him through the metal bars of the upper part. She clutched the cool metal bars with sweaty hands, not minding the dust and dirt on the bars. Oddly, she felt a need to hold on to something strong—like a lifeline.
Carrie remembered Jay. How could she forget that shock of red hair? Or the way he set a horse—long-legged, poised, like a knight in a medieval fantasy novel. He had attended Mary’s summer riding camp one year when she was a senior in high school. The barn girls gossiped and giggled about him behind his back. Guys generally didn’t ride saddleseat, a uniquely American style of riding that was developed in the South. It was a girls’ sport. Like most of the girls, she’d had a crush on this suntanned kid from California. But she’d been too old for him even then. Had he forgotten her?
“Mary says you’re from California.”
“Mm,” he murmured, concentrating on the hoof.
What else had Mary said about him? Jay was down on his luck, and she was helping him out. What could have happened? Years ago, she assumed his parents were wealthy if they could afford to send him to Kentucky for summer riding camp. If she recalled, Jay had stayed and ridden in the World’s Grand Championship that August.
Jay dropped the hoof and switched to the front one. “Your daughter is a lot like my little sister,” he said.
“How old is she?”
“Eight.”
Yes, the hip pockets of his jeans had much to recommend in them. She hadn’t been intrigued by male anatomy in years, not since she’d married her husband who was much older—and surely not since his death. Was she attracted to Jay Preston? The question brought her up short. Carrie swallowed hard.
“Jesse is ten,” she said to ease the sudden strain she felt.
He stood up and turned to face the metal bars, his hazel eyes glinting with appreciation. “You don’t look old enough to have a ten year old daughter.”
Carrie’s heart gave an unwelcome jump at the compliment. She felt her face grow hot. “I was a young bride. Jesse was born when I was eighteen, just out of high school.”
Jay whistled through his teeth and turned back to his work, picking up the horse’s far-front hoof.
What was it about Jay that always captivated her? Maybe it was his hair. Carrie had never seen hair quite its color—like flames of copper. Maybe it was his intelligence and sense of confidence that attracted her. Whatever had happened to him was a mystery. He certainly seemed out of character as a lowly stable groom.
Jay dropped the third hoof and went to the fourth. Carrie watched his swift, quick strokes. When the work was done, he stood up and came back toward her. She was glad for the protection of the wooden part of the stall, for at least he couldn’t see her trembling knees.
After unbuckling the cross ties from the wall and removing the horse’s halter, Jay came out of the stall to stand beside her.
“I’m twenty-five myself.”
His gaze told her he wanted her to know that not much distance separated them in age.
“Yes, I know.”
“You do?”
“You don’t recognize me, do you?” There was an awkward silence. The chains of the cross ties clanked in his hands. Carrie wished for the protection of the stall that had separated them. “I used to be Carrie Fltcher.” She glanced down, but felt his eyes on her every movement. “You and I attended Mary’s summer camp. I was a senior in high school.”
“Damn!” The light of recognition ignited in his eyes. “You’re the girl with that champion walk-trot horse! I always admired her and you.”
“Yes.” She felt the smile in her voice. “That was me, but a long time ago.”
He picked up the grooming box. “Come on, I’ve got more horses to tend to.”
Jay walked down the aisle, and she drew along side, matching him stride for stride. Why did she feel like an awkward teenager—insecure and eager to please? She hadn’t felt this way in years, as if little lightning bolts charged throughout her whole body.
“Are you divorced?” he asked.
“No, my husband died.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Thank you. It hasn’t been pleasant for me or for Jesse.”
They reached the tack room. He went in and put away the equipment. Weak-kneed by her unexpected reaction to the man, Carrie leaned against the doorjamb. The thoughts of Tate’s death and their subseque
nt financial struggle sobered her for a moment, but she didn’t want to stop feeling young and attractive. Like Scarlett O’Hara, she told herself she would worry about money tomorrow.
Jay finished his task and turned to look at her. “Do you come to the stable in the morning?”
“Only in the summer. I’m a teacher.”
He seemed to catalog the information. “What do you teach?”
“Eighth grade English.”
He whistled. “I don’t envy you. It must be hard work with all those teenage hormones going off at one time in the classroom.”
“It can be challenging.”
“Now I remember you. You were good at everything you did. I envied the hell out of you.” Jay’s eyes twinkled. “Even today you are Wonder Woman in disguise. A very beautiful, blond Wonder Woman.”
What a charmer. What a rogue. “I think you, sir, have been affected by an occupational hazard.” She lowered her lashes to hide her amusement.
“What might that be?” He stepped nearer.
“You have been shoveling too much horse manure,” Carrie said with all sincerity.
Jay threw back his head and laughed.
Chapter Three
Wildwood Stables
A week later
“How do you like my new groom?”
Carrie turned to look at Mary Wilder. They both stood in the middle of Mary’s indoor training arena. Jesse circled them aboard Dr. Doolittle. The five-gaited pony trotted around the corner and sped down the straightaway.
“Why do you ask?”
“You’ve been at the barn quite a bit this week,” Mary replied. “I was wondering if my groom was the drawing card.”
Heat swept Carrie’s face. Was it that obvious? “I don’t know what you mean, Mary.”
“Jesse, lift those hands,” Mary instructed, “and urge Doolittle on.” She then shot Carrie a sharp glance. “You don’t need to deny it.”
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