Leaping Hearts (31 page)

“You askin’ me on a date?” Chester asked wolfishly.

“I suppose I am.”

“You buyin’ or am I?”

“If you’re talking about the wheelbarrow, I am,” Devlin interjected.

“But what about food? If it’s a date, ya need food.”

“Probably not a lot of that at the local hardware store,” A.J. said with a grin. “Considering your days of eating nails are over with.”

“Well, I’ll pay for lunch if we go to the Pick a’ the Chicken.”

“Okay, but you should know, I don’t kiss on the first date.”

“Neither do I.”

They all laughed.

Before heading to the ring, A.J. ducked into the tack room and dug out the pills she’d put in a plastic bag and shoved deep into the pocket of her jeans. She’d taken two as soon as she’d gotten out of bed and she’d intended not to take any more until after the session but she knew she wasn’t going to make it through the workout without more.

Devlin walked into the room just as she tilted her head back to swallow.

“Hey, do you want to—?”

Caught by surprise, she choked and began coughing.

“Sorry,” she gasped, knocking herself in the chest.

Devlin gave her a strange look. “You okay there?”

As soon as she could breathe again, she said, “Fine. I’m fine. You caught me on the thin edge of a sneeze.”

“Well, if you need mouth-to-mouth, I’m the right man for the job.”

She went over to him, slipping her arms around his waist. “That so?”

“You better believe it,” he said before dipping her and catching her lips in a searing kiss.

“What I was about to say before you turned blue,” he murmured against her lips, “was how’d you like to go on a date tonight?”

“A date?”

“Dinner and a movie. Just the two of us. We could eat pizza and nuzzle in the back of a dark theater.” His tongue stroked her bottom lip. “I’ve heard the smell of popcorn is an aphrodisiac. Not that we need the help, of course.”

“I’d love to go on a date with you.”

“Good.” He kissed her again and left.

Alone in the room, A.J.’s shoulders sagged. She hated
lying to him. Hated her injury. Prayed that she would heal fast.

Going to the windows, she saw the ring beyond, its multicolored jumps bright in the sunlight. She reached out a hand, putting the tips of her fingers against the cold, leaded glass that wrinkled the landscape. It was just until the Qualifier, she told herself. Then she would take a break and let the arm rest. Only a matter of weeks.

The thought didn’t reassure her much. Turning her back to the window, she straightened her shoulders. And prepared to soldier on.

After the training session, A.J. and Chester piled into the truck and rambled to the outskirts of town. First stop was the hardware store, where they found a shiny red wheelbarrow that fit Chester’s precise specifications. They loaded it into the back, tied it down with some rope and then headed downtown.

Although hardly a metropolitan standout, the city proper wasn’t without sophistication. There was a small but bustling financial district, two four-star hotels, a convention center and a tidy row of shops on the main street. All along the sidewalks, people were walking with gracious purpose, more friendly than those found in bigger cities but without the meandering gait of folks who lived in truly small towns.

Cruising down the street, A.J. pulled into a parking space in front of one of the antique shops. Chester shot her a quizzical look.

“I know I’m old and priceless but ya don’t have to get rid of me just yet,” he said.

A.J. smiled stiffly. “I’ll be right out.”

He watched her go inside with interest. Through the wide windows in the front of the store, he saw a well-dressed man come forward to greet her warmly and then observed the two disappearing into a back room. Sometime later, when they returned to view, A.J. shook hands with the man. It seemed like she was trying to reassure him of something. When she came back out of the store, a slip of paper in her hand, her face was grim.

“Everythin’ okay?”

She nodded but as she pulled out of the parking space, she almost sideswiped a car, and they were saved only by the horn of the other driver. As she recovered, Chester noticed her hands were shaking on the steering wheel.

“Sorry about that,” she murmured, shooting him an apologetic look.

Concerned, Chester found it difficult to respect her privacy as they pulled up to the local bank.

“This won’t take a moment,” she told him.

When she returned, she was tucking something into her back pocket. She didn’t offer explanations and he didn’t ask for any. This time, she was much more cautious as she pulled out into traffic. Silence reigned as they left town, unbroken until she turned into the parking lot of the auction house.

“We biddin’ on something?” Chester asked.

A.J. took a deep breath.

“No, we’re doing a little detective work,” she said, parking the truck.

“Concernin’ what?”

“Sabbath’s background.”

“I don’t know that y’re gonna like his rap sheet.”

A.J. tried to smile as she opened her door. Chester disembarked with her.

“You know, I can really see you as the Nancy Drew type,” he said. “Determined, fearless. Only no matching hat an’ handbag kinda thing. Can’t see you botherin’ with all that girlie stuff.”

This time she was able to offer a better grin as they crossed over the blacktop and headed toward the business office.

Chester kept up the conversation. “I’d even guess you’d be related to that Drew girl, what with the reddish hair an’ all. I could see the two a’ ya huntin’ around scary old houses, findin’ secret passages, diggin’ up things.”

“Actually, the one with the shovel’s my cousin, C.C.”

“Clamdigger?”

“Archaeologist.”

“Same thing.” Chester opened the door for her. “Say, do they give you girls anythin’ more than initials in your family?”

“Actually, she goes by Carter, now. I just keep forgetting that we’ve all grown up.”

As they approached the counter, Margaret Mead, A.J.’s old friend, came out from the back room. As soon as she saw A.J., she broke into a wide smile.

“Ah, now, there’s a sight for sore eyes!” The Irish lilt was a welcoming sound. “And who’d you be bringin’ with you this day?”

A.J. glanced over at Chester, who’d removed his tattered baseball cap and was the color of a beefsteak tomato. She raised her eyebrows, struck by a thought.

“This is a very dear friend, Chester Raymond,” she replied, nudging the man forward. He hung back, barely touching Margaret’s hand as the woman reached over the counter.

“Pleased to meet you,” Margaret said with a twinkle.

Chester mumbled something that could have been “Hello.” Maybe in some foreign language.

“And what brings the two of you here?” the woman asked.

“Do you have any records on that stallion I bought? His name is—”

“I remember the animal,” Margaret said. “Don’t tell me you’re giving up on him?”

“Not in the slightest.”

“Ah, I knew you’d have the stuff.” She looked over to Chester. “A right talented lass, she is, don’t you think?”

Chester shuffled his feet but managed a “Yes, ma’am.”

“What kind of information are you lookin’ for?”

“Former owners. I know where he was bred and the last stable he was boarded at but it’s a blank slate between the two.”

“Hmmm. I do believe we sold him a couple of times but I’d have to go through the files. Let me see what I can come up with.”

“I’d appreciate it. I’m at the McCloud Stables. You can find me there.”

“Will do.” Margaret settled her eyes on Chester. “And how do you know such a lovely thing as the Miss Sutherland?”

“I groom over at McCloud’s.”

“He’s one of my coaches,” A.J. corrected.

Chester looked up, surprised. “I suddenly get a promotion?”

“Devlin helps me over the fences,” A.J. said to Margaret. “Chester helps me get over myself. He’s full of wisdom, insight—”

Chester cleared his throat.

A.J. fell silent.

Margaret’s eyes positively sparkled.

The two women looked at each other, a common purpose forged like iron.

“Thanks again, Margaret,” A.J. said.

“I’ll be in touch,” the woman replied.

They both looked at Chester, who appeared to be on the verge of another seizure.

“Ma’am,” he said, nodding to Margaret.

“It was very nice to meet you, Mr. Raymond.”

A.J. turned to go and Chester followed but not before he glanced back one last time at the Irish woman.

Outside, as he and A.J. walked to the truck, he said, “I’m not a used car, you know. Ya don’t have to sell me like I’m some jalopy lookin’ for a garage to park in.”

“Was I doing that? I thought I was just being accurate. You are an incredibly important part—”

“That fine woman in there has no need for a man to be pressed on her.”

“So you noticed.”

“Noticed what?”

“What a nice person she is.”

“’Course I did,” he grumbled. “But she could be married, for all I know.”

His question dangled like a hiker off a cliff, ready for rescue.

“Margaret’s a widow,” A.J. said, tossing down a lifeline. She got in the driver’s side and put the key in the ignition.

“Really,” Chester murmured as he slid into the passenger seat. “I mean, that’s a shame. How long’s it been?”

“A couple of years. And she isn’t seeing anyone now.”

The engine came to life.

“Not that it’s any a’ m’ business,” Chester said firmly.

“Of course not,” A.J. agreed, putting them into reverse.

He shot her a look. “Ya settin’ me up, girl?”

“Now, why would I do something like that? You can clearly take care of yourself.”

“That’s right. I don’t need any help with the ladies.”

She turned the truck around, trying not to smile too much.

“Ya think she liked me?” he asked.

A.J. and Devlin were on their way out to dinner when she took the slip of paper she’d gotten from the bank and handed it to him.

“What’s this?”

“The money I owe you.”

He frowned.

“When I started here,” she said, “you and I agreed I’d pay for training and board. That should cover it. At least according to what we charge at Sutherland’s.”

Without looking at the check, he tried to push it back at her. “I don’t want your money.”

“Devlin, I saw the bills.”

“What bills?”

“The ones upstairs on your desk.”

“So?”

“There’s a couple thousand dollars’ worth of debt up there. You need this money. You’re not competing anymore.”

“Thanks for the reminder,” he said darkly.

“I didn’t mean it like that.”

“So you think I’m going to go broke feeding your stallion?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“In any event, let me put your mind at ease. I may not be in your father’s league but I’m not strapped for cash, either.”

“Devlin—”

“Too bad you didn’t get into my investment files while you were nosing around up there. Then your mind would be at ease.”

“I wasn’t nosing around.”

“So the bills just fell into your hands while you were on the phone.”

“Look, I’m just trying to live up to my obligations.”

“And I’m telling you not to worry about it.”

A.J.’s eyes implored him. “I’ve spent too much time letting other people take care of me. You and I should be partners. Will you let me do this, please?”

She watched him cross his arms over his chest, the check getting buried in the crook of his elbow. While she waited for him to speak, she reached to her throat out of habit but there was nothing to rub between her fingers. She dropped her hand.

Devlin frowned, unsure exactly what was missing in the movement.

Finally, he said, “Is this money yours or your father’s?”

“Mine.”

If it were her father’s, it would have been easy to tear up the check. He had no intention of taking Garrett Sutherland’s cash. Ever. As for it being A.J.’s, he wondered whether it would change things if she knew he had several million dollars in various stocks, bank accounts and real-estate investments. Would she find it easier to let him bear some of the burden for her?

“Devlin, I may have brought this up because I’m worried what the stallion and I are costing you but there’s more to it. It’s about me being independent. For the first time in my life, I want to support myself.” She paused. “I need to be self-sufficient.”

“I don’t like this.”

“I can tell. But you know it’s the right thing for me to do, don’t you?”

He raked a hand through his hair. “I don’t want you to think I can’t take care of you.”

A.J. went to him, putting her hands on the rigid muscles of his upper arms. “I know you can take care of me. I’ve never doubted that.”

He looked down at her for a long time.

“I didn’t know I was such a traditional guy,” he muttered, putting an arm around her shoulders. “Taking care of my woman and all that caveman, chest-thumping stuff.”

“You’re very sweet when you’re being protective and overbearing.”

Reluctantly, he slipped the check into his back pocket.

“Was this our second argument?” he asked as he opened the door for her.

“I think so,” A.J. said, slipping her arm through his. “And I think we did just fine.”

“Does this mean we get to make up later?”

“You better believe it.”

They were getting into the truck when she said, “By the way, I’ve asked Margaret Mead to look into Sabbath’s records. She might be calling for me sometime in the next few days.”

“You get anywhere with his last owner?”

A.J. shook her head. “Came up empty on his first one, too.”

Devlin drove them to the next town over and they ate at a restaurant that was known for its lasagna. After her failed attempt at cooking, A.J. seized the opportunity to pick up tips from the pros. The waiter humored her through her interrogation and eventually the chef himself came over to their table. She took notes on cocktail napkins and whenever she looked up at Devlin he was watching her with eyes full of amusement and warmth.

The movie they saw had more special effects than story line but it didn’t matter. As they pulled up in front of the barn again, they both agreed the evening had been perfect. After checking on Sabbath, they went to the farmhouse, hung up their jackets and headed upstairs, one after the other. Together, they took their clothes off, mingling their laundry in the hamper, and brushed their teeth, side by side. When they were lying together in bed, A.J. closed her eyes, feeling a profound peace.