Kentucky Groom (3 page)

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 subsequent 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.”

“Deny what?”

“Deny you find Jay attractive.”

Carrie shifted her stance and looked away. “He is a good looking young man.”

“And?”

“And charming.”
Charming?
That was an understatement. He had certainly charmed the socks off her.

“I remember you girls giggling about him at camp that summer.”

Carrie’s heart began to hammer. “That was a long time ago.” A long time ago and a life time away.

Yet why did her stomach clench tight when Jay leveled one of his unsettling looks at her? Why did heat inch up her neck when he smiled? It was purely physical, she told herself. It had to be. She was a widow with a child to raise and a business to sell. She couldn’t afford a silly school girl crush to add complications to her life.

“Come in and line up,” Mary called to Jesse, who rode into the center of the arena and halted in front of them. She touched the pony’s shoulder to have him pose. Obediently, Doolittle stepped forward one step leaving his back legs in place to stretch out his beautiful body. “You did a good job today, honey,” Mary said as she circled the pair.

Jesse lifted her chin and raised her hands, her fingers curling lightly around the reins. A dull ache settled in Carrie’s heart. Her daughter resembled Tate. At times, it was like living with her dead husband’s ghost.

Mary adjusted the position of Jesse’s right boot, but other than that she had no comment except for a terse nod. “Take Doolittle back to his stall,” she said.

Jesse nudged Doolittle out of his stance. She smiled happily at her mother, acknowledging the good job she’d done. Horse and rider turned toward the doorway that led to the stable area. Carrie and Mary followed.

“Don’t be so defensive about Jay, honey.” Mary clapped a gentle hand on Carrie’s shoulder. “I’m just teasing.”

Not at a point where she could trust her emotions, Carrie had a hard time making light of Mary’s needling even though the stable owner had become her friend as well as her riding instructor.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” Carrie said with a shrug. “I don’t want to feel this way. It’s just too soon after Tate’s death.”

Mary nodded in understanding. “Of course it is. Tate has been gone less than a year.”

“I have Jesse’s welfare to consider.” Carrie’s voice faltered. “I can’t afford to be attracted to someone like Jay.”

Mary gave her shoulder a final squeeze before she dropped her hand. “Don’t let appearances fool you,” she warned. “Jay’s a fine young man, and he comes from a good family.”

They turned the corner into the aisle between the stalls. “If he comes from a ‘good’ family, why is he here?” Carrie wanted to know.

“I told you earlier. He’s down on his luck.”

“Is he in trouble with the law?”

The question drew a laugh from the stable owner. “No! Nothing like that.”

“Then what?”

“Why don’t you ask Jay? It isn’t my place to break his confidences.” Mary left Carrie standing in the middle of the aisle.

Control yourself.You don’t need another summer flirtation.

She’d done that once before.

Carrie took a deep breath and expelled it slowly. The last time was when she was eighteen and had gotten pregnant with Jesse.

* * * *

Jay positioned himself at Doolittle’s head while Jesse dismounted, his gaze drifting down the long dirt aisle to where Carrie was standing. He struggled with the sense of euphoria he felt every time he saw Carrie Mercer. The woman had an uncanny ability to make his heart gallop like a horse free in a field.

“Wipe that smile off your face, Preston, and get to work,” Mary ordered.

“Ma’am?” Jay hadn’t even noticed his employer’s approach. He hid a guilty smile and led Doolittle into his stall.

Mary stopped at the door as he was putting on cross-ties and stripping the saddle from the damp horse. “After you take his tack off, I need Meg’s horse for the next lesson.”

Jay’s gaze connected with Mary’s, and the amusement in her eyes almost knocked him sideways. Good old Mary. She was perceptive and had a wicked sense of humor. Her way of telling him she’d seen him eyeballing Carrie was to hassle him about his work ethic.

“Yes, ma’am.” Jay raised a right hand in salute.

“You’re incorrigible.” Mary said with a huff and left him to do his job.

Jay chuckled and hefted the saddle onto the wooden rack outside the stall. Then he hurried to the next stall. Meg’s horse was a big chestnut with a trimmed mane. Jay put on the bridle, tightened the saddle girth and led the gelding into the aisle.

“Here we go.” Mary gave ten-year-old Meg a leg-up.

Horse and rider moved away, and Jesse scampered after them.

“I need the walk-trot horse next,” Mary told Jay before she followed the two girls toward the arena.