Kentucky Groom

by Jan Scarbrough

  Then the smoke alarm went off.

  Jesse screamed a bloodcurdling scream that penetrated the recesses of Jay’s heart. He jumped to his feet. A thin layer of smoke from frying hamburgers clung to the ceiling, setting off the alarm. Jay spotted the smoke detector in the hallway, reached up and detached the nine-volt battery.

  The agonizing noise of the alarm ceased, but not Jesse’s cries. Jay was stunned by the sight of Jesse huddled on the kitchen floor wrapped in her mother’s arms.

  Carrie glanced up at him, and he understood at once the haunted look he had seen in her eyes at the hospital. It had been because of Jesse. Jay went to the stove and removed the heavy black iron frying pan from the heat.

  “It’s okay, honey,” Carrie crooned to her daughter. She folded the little girl in her arms and rocked her back and forth as a mother would rock an infant. “Jay’s taken care of it. It’s just the smoke from the frying hamburgers.”

  Slowly Jesse’s sobs subsided. When she raised her eyes to Jay, he was startled by the depth of trust he saw in them.

  “Thanks,” the little girl mouthed.

  “Hey, no problem.” Jay shrugged off her thanks, knowing it was time to lift everyone’s spirits. He grinned at the two of them. “When do we eat? I’m starving. Hospital food was really the pits.”

  Jesse scrambled to her feet and dove at Jay, wrapping her arms tightly around his waist and burying her head against his body. Jay reached down and stroked the girl’s blond head. He had no words of comfort. Just his presence seemed to be enough for Jesse.

  His gaze caught Carrie’s as she looked up at him from where she still sat cross-legged on the floor. It was as if she said thanks with her eyes. Damn! Gratitude again, not love.

  Forcing back his disappointment, Jay bent his head, slowly disengaged Jesse’s embrace, and stooped down to be on her eye level.

  “How about eating our hamburgers outside?” he asked. “I saw a nice picnic table under a big shade tree. How about cleaning it off for us?”

  Jesse glanced at her mother who was scrambling to her feet. “Good idea,” Carrie echoed. “Take that damp rag over there.”

  Jesse nodded. As she closed the door behind her, Jay stood up frowning. “She’s a changed child.”

  Carrie glanced at him and turned to face the stove, tears in her eyes. “She’s been that way since the fire. She’s so fearful and timid. I can hardly leave her.”

  “I see that.”

  “I’m trying to be patient with her,” Carrie explained. “The doctor suggested a child psychologist, but my insurance won’t cover it.”

  “I can pay for it.” The words were out of his mouth before he considered them.

  The muscle in her jaw clenched. “I don’t want your help.”

  “I don’t mind. I’ve got plenty of money, remember?” It was the truth, damn it. Trouble was, it was again the wrong thing to say, and he recognized in his offer the same sort of action his father would take. It bothered him.

  “Yes, I know.” Carrie turned from the stove with a plate of fried hamburgers in her hands. She shoved it at his midriff. “Here, take this.”

  “If you won’t take money from me, I’ll loan it to you.”

  “I could never pay it back.”

  He shrugged. “Then consider it a gift.”

  Her anger flared. “Like buying Tate’s business? I don’t care for your gifts. They come without the truth attached.”

  Jay walked to the door. She knew how to hurt a guy. “Some people would appreciate it.”

  Carrie caught up to him, and touched his upper arm, causing him to pause and turn toward her. “Wait, Jay. I do appreciate what you’ve done for me. It’s just that I want to make it on my own.”

  Breath caught in his throat as he glanced down at her. She was so delicate, so vulnerable. A poignant ache throbbed in his chest. He placed the plate on the top of a nearby television, freeing his hands and then lifting a finger, caught a tendril of her blond hair and brushed it away from her face. Carrie’s lips were pressed together in a tight, hard line, but he noticed the movement of her throat as she swallowed.

  “We’re a pair, aren’t we?” he asked. She stared up at him with her wide doe-like eyes. “You feel indebted to me because of Jesse, and I don’t want your gratitude. Then you tell me you want to stand on your own two feet, and I fuss at you because you don’t want my help.”

  Her eyes grew wary. He traced a fingertip from her eyebrow down the curve of her cheek to the line of her stubborn jaw. “It’s just that I love you so much.” The admission ripped from his gut. “I want to show you that I love you. I want to do things for you, help you. It hurts when you won’t let me, and it hurts when all you’ll give me is your grudging gratitude. I want your love. I had that for a while. I know I did.”

  “I don’t want to hurt you, Jay.” Her voice was soft like the texture of her skin. “But I can’t.”

  “Shhh.” Jay pressed her lips with his finger. “Don’t tell me what you can’t do.”

  He wanted her so badly. Slowly he lowered his head and replaced his fingertip with his lips. Gently at first, he begged her forgiveness with his kiss, his tongue darting softly into the warmth and sweetness of her mouth. She sighed deeply within her throat as she responded to his plea. Caressing her face with his hands, he held her carefully, afraid to break the tenuous link that bound her to him for the moment.

  A clatter outside warned them before Jesse burst through the door. Carrie broke away, turning from him, her hand straying to her mouth.

  “Table ready, imp?” Jay asked Jesse. He was shaken beyond belief by the short kiss.

  “Mary has turned her mares and foals out. They’re grazing right next to the fence.”

  Jay was glad to hear the excitement in Jesse’s voice.

  “Great, let’s go take a look.” He picked up the hamburgers.

  “Jesse, take these paper plates and bag of chips.” Carrie handed them to her. “I’ll bring the lemonade and buns.”

  Jay held the door open and Jesse ducked under his arm. Glancing back at Carrie, he saw her standing in the kitchen doorway, a look of wistfulness in her eyes and a shy smile upon her lips.

  * * * *

  What was the matter with her? Carrie leaned her elbows on the picnic table. Why had she let Jay kiss her like that? She was leading him on and giving him hope.

  Jay and Jesse stood together at the pasture fence. The little girl bent down and pulled up a chunk of grass, offering it to an inquisitive chestnut colt that lipped the grass from her hand and snorted for more.

  What was the old saying? The grass is always greener on the other side of the fence. Carrie wondered if that applied to her relationship with Jay. Was she wrong to expect more from him? Jay was human. He wasn’t perfect. After her disappointing marriage, was she too wary about this man who had disappointed her already? He was good and kind, having her welfare at heart. But could she trust him? Or was she too stubborn to try?

  Her mind was so jumbled and cluttered. She was tired of trying to figure it all out. Tired of the worry and the heartache.

  Twilight scattered all around them, full of the night sounds of crickets and the muffled hoot of a distant owl. Pinpricks of light flickered in the air as fireflies came out to search for mates. Jay and Jesse left the fence. While Jesse skipped around them, cupping lightening bugs into her hands, Jay returned to the picnic table and straddled the bench, sitting down across from her.

  “I’m going to need to go in,” he said, his eyes enigmatic in the falling gloom. “The bugs are eating me alive.”

  “Are you tired?”

  “Yes.”

  It was his first afternoon home from the hospital. Of course he must be exhausted. Carrie scanned the pale planes of his face. He looked like a sheared sheep with stray tufts of red hair standing up on his head. She allowed her lashes to lower over her eyes, and in her mind’s eye, she remembered his warm, moist breath and the softness of his mouth. With that memory, her throat grew d
ry. In self-defense, her eyes flew open, only to find his gaze stroking her face.

  “You’re so beautiful.” His words were as hot as the night.

  Carrie felt herself flush. “You don’t sound too tired to me.”

  “I can’t help it.”

  “You certainly can.” She fixed him with a determined glare.

  It made him laugh, the warm admiration showing in his eyes. And then he rubbed her bare leg with his. Slowly. Up and down, making her skin feel hot. The muscles of his calf were warm and hard. A fire-like glow lit in the pit of her stomach.

  “Jay!”

  “Yes?”

  “Cut it out. There’s Jesse.” Carrie inclined her head toward her daughter, reminding him of her presence.

  “She can’t see anything,” he said with his endearing smile spreading across his face.

  “But I can’t . . . .” Her breath rasped harshly in her throat.

  “I told you not to talk to me about can’t. You don’t know the possibilities having me in your life will open up. There will be no can’t between us.”

  “Don’t play games with me.” His leg still touched hers, causing a connection between them that she didn’t want.

  “I’m not playing games. I’m dead serious.” His voice was quiet as the humor went out of his eyes. “I want the magic back. The spark we had before the fire. Call me selfish.” He shrugged, his gaze locked with hers. “I want you.”

  It had been a long time since anyone had talked to her like that—since she had seen that look of yearning in anyone’s eyes. Carrie glanced down, self-conscious. She wanted him too. Admit it. On some primeval level the two of them connected. She swallowed. As he rubbed her again, an exquisite shiver shot up her leg.

  Carrie jumped up and placing her hands on the table leaned forward with a scowl. “Look, this is hard enough. Don’t make it worse.”

  “You didn’t have to invite me into your home.”

  “You’re wrong. I had to invite you, so be a good guest, please.”

  His gaze riveted her, throwing her a teasing challenge that made her shudder. “You’re right. I’ll behave.” Jay stood up and cleared the table.

  The wind was knocked out of Carrie’s sails. For a moment, he had taken away the fight with his acknowledgment. She felt a strange loss. Picking up her plate and gathering the dirty utensils, she carried them into the house. In her heart, she knew the battle couldn’t be over so quickly.

  Because conflicting feelings of desire and hurt, love and anger still raged inside her.

  * * * *

  The heart-stopping scream reverberated throughout the house, awakening Carrie from a hard sleep. She shot to her feet. Jesse! Another nightmare. Carrie hadn’t expected one tonight. Her daughter had been so happy earlier, watching television with them after dinner and going to bed late.

  A light was already on in Jesse’s room when she got there. Carrie burst into the room to find Jay sitting on the bed and holding her child in his arms. The little girl’s head was tucked under his chin, her heavy sobs already subsiding. Jay wore a pair of shorts and an undershirt, revealing very manly muscles beneath the thin, white cotton.

  Carrie stood there and watched the two of them. Her daughter—so young and innocent, so much a part of her. Her very life. And Jay—the brash young man who had charmed his way into her family. Into her life.

  Was he making himself irreplaceable at least to Jesse?

  In that instant, Carrie loved him more than she had ever loved another man.

  “I was still awake,” he said quietly, looking up to catch her gaze. “She’ll be okay. I’ll stay with her until she goes back to sleep. I sometimes sat with my sister like this when she was little.”

  Carrie nodded and then moved away. She was tired, and a nagging voice kept asking her why she was letting Jay back into her life when she had already decided he wasn’t to be trusted, let alone loved.

  Chapter Eleven

  Morning light was a hushed alarm clock drifting slowly between the cracks of Carrie’s window shades. She sat up in bed and fisted the sleep from her eyes. How she hated mornings. In less than a month, she would be going back to school, rising at five-thirty to make it to the classroom by seven. The prospect of an early wake-up call was not pleasant. Yawning, she crawled out of bed.

  Barefoot, Carrie padded toward the bathroom, her sleep-clogged mind slowly recognizing the unexpected aroma of coffee. The door was slightly ajar, and before she became fully aware, Carrie pushed it open.

  Jay stood at the sink and looked at her through the mirror. In the instant it took for her face to flame, Carrie noticed how his pajama bottoms cupped his well-defined butt and how the muscles of his shoulders and arms were sculpted like some sort of Greek god. Her lungs suddenly lacked air. She wondered if the sharp pain in her chest was the early signs of a heart attack. When Jay turned around with white shaving cream bisecting his face and a bright smile on his lips, Carrie felt the quick burn of desire.

  “Good morning,” Jay said with much too much enthusiasm.

  “What’s so good about it?” The teasing glint in his eyes irritated the heck out of her.

  “Oh, not a morning person, are we?”

  Jay was too perky. “No.” Carrie backed out of the bathroom. “I’m sorry to disturb you.”

  He toweled his face and followed her out, grabbing his t-shirt. “I hope I didn’t wake you. I tried to be quiet.”

  Carrie refused to answer him. Jay tossed her another amused look and swept her a mock bow. “Go right in. I’ll finish later.”

  Carrie glared at him. The urge to slap his handsome face was as irresistible as the urge of nature’s call. Head high, she marched past and closed the door, making sure he heard the click of the lock.

  Jay smiled at the forbidding look on Carrie’s face. She needed a little shaking up—just a little to get her out of the doldrums and perhaps to take her mind off her troubles. Whistling under his breath, he put on his shirt and went into the kitchen. He filled a mug full of coffee and handed it to Carrie when she came out of the bathroom.

  “Coffee? Black?”

  “Thanks.” She took the mug.

  “I guessed right. You don’t take cream and sugar, do you?”

  “No.” Her fingers closed around the mug, and she brought it to her nose, allowing the steam to bathe her face.

  Carrie’s gaze still said she was spoiling for a fight. Their eyes clashed for a moment before she looked away, moving with unconscious grace toward the sofa. She sat down and drew her feet underneath her.

  There was nothing particularly revealing about her long, cotton pajamas. They were a deep forest green, not a bit revealing. Jay couldn’t see through the fabric. Yet for some reason, the way she sat, all balled up on the sofa with her fingers wrapped around the mug and a challenging look on her face, threw Jay into a tizzy. She was too darn sexy with her blond hair tousled from sleep and draped over her shoulders.

  “Do you always get up this early?”

  “Grooms always get up with the sun.” Jay returned to the kitchen and came back with his own mug of coffee.

  “But you weren’t always a groom.”

  “No I wasn’t.”

  The coffee was as hot as Jay’s reaction to Carrie. He sat down across from her in a chair, and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and cradling the coffee mug.

  “How did you have the money to buy my husband’s business?” she asked. “Did your father give it to you?”

  He considered her thoughtfully. Carrie didn’t know. Couldn’t know. They had argued and then the accident. He hadn’t been able to explain. Suddenly Jay wanted her to know all about him. Not just about his disagreement with his father or his pretending to be a groom, but he wanted to tell her about the positive and important things he had done with his life.

  “Have you heard of a computer program called Sampson?”

  Carrie shrugged. “Vaguely.”

  “I wrote it.”

  Jay si
pped his coffee. This news didn’t seem to impress her. He could tell she didn’t care about computers.

  “Sampson is the multilevel software installed in all Preston Computers. It rivals the giants of the industry with its simplicity and ease-of-use. It’s one factor that has raised Preston’s share of the industry by twenty-four per cent within the last two years.”

  Carrie was bored, but this had been his passion. “The point,” he went on, “is that I made a lot of money from the program. It made me pretty damn rich.”

  The irony of his words clogged Jay’s throat. Here he was bragging like some multimillion-dollar-a-year sports star when his whole purpose for leaving California and Preston Computers was to find a woman unimpressed by his wealth. Well, he’d done it. Here she sat, her feet drawn up beneath her with the curves of her hips and thighs emphasized by the soft fabric of her pajamas. Carrie didn’t care about his money. She had made it clear she didn’t want his money or him. Jay felt like a hypocrite trying to use his wealth to win her over.

  This was crap. His stomach felt cold and hollow. Jay stood up. He walked back into the kitchen and emptied his mug into the sink.

  When he returned to the living room, Carrie was watching him with a quiet regard.

  “Tate loved computers,” she said. “He was like a boy with a toy whenever he was working on one.” She lowered her feet and sat forwards still clutching her mug. “I could never understand his fascination, but he made a comfortable living for us. He was a good man.”

  Jay thought he saw a shimmer of love in her eyes for her dead husband. A painful jealousy stabbed his gut. He wanted that same look of love to be for him. What made him think he could so quickly replace Carrie’s husband? She was recently widowed. Of course, he couldn’t expect her to transfer her allegiance overnight. Maybe it was enough to have her gratitude.

  “I used to be like that,” Jay kept up the conversation. “With a father in the business, I always had the biggest and the best computer. I taught myself to program and skipped college to develop software applications for Carter.”