A Love Like Ours Read online

  At the mention of Lyndie’s name, Jake’s senses rushed to life. For pity’s sake. Could he have a conversation with his brother without having Lyndie pushed to the center of his thoughts? He’d like to go five minutes, just five minutes, without thinking about her. “First of all, I think she’s probably wrong.” A horse ran for the person sitting on his back, male or female. They didn’t discriminate by gender.

  “You said ‘probably wrong.’”

  Jake tightened one edge of his lips. “There’s a chance she’s right.”

  “You’re going to test her theory.”

  “I’m leaning that way. It won’t cost me anything extra, just the time it’ll take to get Blackberry ready as a lead pony.”

  Bo nodded.

  “You approve,” Jake stated, because he could tell that Bo did.

  “A last-ditch effort is all we have left with Silver Leaf. We have nothing to lose by trying out Lyndie’s ideas.”

  The sound of nickering drew Jake’s attention to the window. Outdoors, a yearling ran along the paddock rail, throwing his head.

  He’d told Lyndie . . . he’d tried to tell her. No one could help Silver Leaf, just like no one could help him. She’d said, “I think that I can.” She’d looked at him, calm and confident. “I hope that I can.”

  Hope.

  Jake’s hope had been stripped from him long ago. He’d forgotten what it felt like to hope. It felt lousy, to be honest. It felt like disappointment waiting to happen.

  He hadn’t given Lyndie permission to make him hope that she could make his Silver Leaf run. And yet she’d managed to blow onto the ashes of his hope and coax one tiny red ember to life.

  Chapter Eight

  The next day Silver Leaf arrived at Lone Star Park like P. Diddy might arrive at a night club. That is to say, in luxury and surrounded by an all-female entourage.

  Lyndie stood outside the barn that Whispering Creek Horses had rented on Lone Star’s back stretch. Holding up a hand to shade her eyes, she watched Silver’s trailer pull to a stop. She still couldn’t fully believe that Jake had decided to support her Casanova philosophy.

  When Jake had informed her that he’d chosen to move forward with her ideas about Silver, he’d done so in a very no-nonsense way. He hadn’t become her accomplice. Rather, he’d opted to tolerate her plans while continuing to treat Silver Leaf in the manner in which he treated all of his horses, with care and strikingly keen observation.

  Zoe jumped down from the cab of the truck and came around to begin the process of unloading. “Have you seen any tall men since you’ve been here at the track?” Zoe asked, slanting hopeful looks in both directions.

  “Not yet.”

  “Well, bummer.” Zoe led Blackberry down the trailer’s ramp, handed her lead to Lyndie, then headed back into the trailer. “The trip over was . . .”

  Bumpy? Lyndie wondered. Well air-conditioned? Enchanted by a sorcerer’s spell?

  Zoe reemerged with Silver. “Look at this, perfect boy. We’re here. And you did so well on the ride over. Aren’t you a star? Yes, you are. You’re a star.” Then, to Lyndie, as they started toward the barn with the horses, “Isn’t this great? A new place. Races coming up soon. The possibility of meeting tall men.”

  They guided the horses past a motorized walking ring into the quiet calm of the barn. Lone Star Park nestled in Grand Prairie, a suburb located between Dallas and Fort Worth. It boasted a mile-long racetrack and a collection of backstretch barns that could house up to a thousand horses.

  Less cushy than their barn at Whispering Creek, the barn at Lone Star had been painted green on the outside, use-scarred ivory on the inside. Loamy dirt blanketed the shed row.

  For the duration of the three-month-long season, Zoe, two other grooms, all Jake’s exercise riders, their barn foreman, their night man, and two hand-walkers had relocated here. Some of those employees had decided to rent nearby rooms made available by the track. Others, like Lyndie and Zoe, had opted to commute forty-five minutes each way from Holley.

  “Right in here, Silver.” Zoe flicked the Post-it Note that had been stuck to the front of Silver’s stall, then led him in. “Isn’t this nice? Look, Lyndie brought down your own hay, and it’s waiting right here. You have fresh bedding and your very own water pail from home.”

  Lyndie and Zoe settled both horses into their side-by-side stalls, then hand-fed them apple slices as a housewarming gift.

  At the sound of a muted conversation, Lyndie swung her gaze to the far end of the barn. Jake came around the corner, flanked by his foreman and a groom. He stood half a head taller than the other men, who were listening attentively as he spoke. He’d turned up the collar of his hunting jacket, and from what she could see beneath his hat, it didn’t appear that he’d shaved this morning. His five o’clock shadow lent him an even more disreputable pirate air than usual.

  If you liked that sort of thing.

  Jake’s attention fixed on Lyndie. He continued forward without acknowledging her in any way other than his eye contact. Even so, her body responded with another of those wonderful hot pangs deep in her midsection.

  She glanced back in Silver’s direction. He doesn’t like you, Lyndie. Enough with the physical reactions to him. He’d be happier if you were working in another trainer’s barn.

  When Jake reached them, he asked his two companions to continue to the barn’s office and wait for him there.

  “Hello, Mr. Porter,” Zoe said.

  “Zoe. Everything go smoothly on the drive over?”

  “Sure did.”

  He took his time observing Lyndie and Zoe with their apple slices and Silver Leaf, surrounded by his horse luxuries. She knew he thought her far-fetched for treating his five-year-old stallion who’d yet to win a single race as if he were a multimillion-dollar Breeders’ Cup champion.

  Jake braced a hand on the entrance to Silver’s stall. “How are you finding the customer service so far?” he asked Silver Leaf, irony tinting his voice.

  Lyndie chuckled. “The customer service agrees with him.”

  Zoe’s eyes rounded as if she couldn’t believe she’d just heard Jake say something mildly humorous.

  “Show these ladies that you like me, Silver Leaf. This one here”—Jake tilted his head in Lyndie’s direction—“thinks you’re only being polite.”

  Silver nibbled on a few strands of hay.

  “Huh,” Lyndie said. “Not very convincing.”

  Jake gave her a look both challenging and condescending. “Neither is your theory.” Then he pushed away from the stall and continued in the direction of the barn office.

  “You told Mr. Porter that Silver Leaf doesn’t like him?” Zoe whispered.

  “Yep.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I think it’s true.”

  “Oh my gosh! What’ll be next? Flying pigs?”

  “No. But we just might see a dapple grey stallion run. If we’re very, very lucky.”

  “I’m praying over it.” Zoe stroked Silver’s neck. “Hear that? I’m praying over it.” Two more pats, then, “I need to go check on my other horses. What’re you up to?”

  “I’m going to stay here with him for a bit.”

  “Catch ya later.”

  Lyndie lowered into her usual seated position against the inner side wall of Silver’s stall. New barn. Same position. For long minutes she observed the horse and accustomed herself to the sounds of Lone Star Park.

  Blackberry and Silver whinnied back and forth to each other a few times. Once, Silver stuck his head out of his doorway and reached toward Blackberry. The female horse responded by stretching toward Silver. Their noses touched briefly in their customary sign of affection.

  Lyndie saw no outward signs of agitation in Silver Leaf. But, of course, that was part of the difficulty. He hid his displeasure.

  When she readied to leave, she rose quietly. Silver Leaf studied her. She stared back at him, trying to communicate her affection and acceptance of him without
motion or words.

  After a time, he nudged his face into her hair, cataloguing her scent. Then he rested his head where her neck met her shoulder, just as she’d seen him do with Zoe, and gave a sigh.

  Lyndie’s heart soared. Silver was letting her know that he liked and accepted her, too. She’d finally gained his trust! Moisture gathered on her lashes, warbling her vision.

  All her life, Lyndie had harbored a deep love of animals. They were God’s creatures, innocent, full of loyalty. Many poured out their lives in service to their owners. Whether or not Silver ever won a race, he had intrinsic value, just like every other horse in this barn. Just like her pets at home. How lucky was she that she got to do this job? “I’ll do my best for you,” she promised.

  Jake’s training regimen had made Silver Leaf into an athlete built to sprint with breathtaking speed. She could see the evidence of Silver’s conditioning in his physique. What she didn’t know: whether the horse would decide to put his potential into practice.

  “Will you do your best for me?”

  Silver Leaf would answer Lyndie’s question three days later.

  Aware that his horse needed time to adjust to his new environment, Jake had Lyndie take Silver through easy workouts the first two mornings after arriving at Lone Star. On the third morning, a Friday, less than two weeks before Silver Leaf was scheduled to race, the moment of truth arrived.

  Jake wanted to see him run.

  Nervousness squeezed long fingers around Lyndie’s chest as she sat aboard Silver near the outer rail of Lone Star’s track. She’d already warmed up the horse. No time remained to stall or pray. Today’s events would either render her theories about Silver valid or debunk them completely.

  She ran her hand along the reins, feeling the nub of the leather. Dawn had recently crescendoed over the horizon, christening the horses and exercise riders on the track with rosy light. The clouds this morning, high and distant, looked like the clouds in a kid’s drawing, flat at the bottom and puffing into gentle mounds on top.

  Jake approached, two mounted riders in his wake.

  “I want to give Silver Leaf a hard work in company,” Jake told the three of them, Lyndie included. The other two riders, both male, sat astride the best three-year-olds Jake had.

  He’d already informed her of his plans privately. He hoped to spur Silver’s competitive juices by giving him challenging competition. If, by chance, the situation did motivate Silver to run, the other horses would then serve as a measuring stick. They’d let Jake know whether Silver possessed any real speed.

  “Build them to a gallop,” Jake instructed, “then open it up around the far corner and go for a half mile.” His gaze flicked to Lyndie’s.

  She gave a nod, trying to look more confident than she felt. Suddenly this whole idea of hers seemed a little harebrained and unfounded, even to her. Like Jake, she’d never actually heard of any other horse that had a Casanova complex.

  “Good?” he asked her. Beneath his hat, unflinching seriousness shone in his eyes. Brackets marked either side of his mouth.

  “Good.” She was doing this. This was happening. Wrenching away her attention, Lyndie turned Silver, and the trio of riders set off. Carefully, safely, they increased their speed.

  This is your last chance at this, Silver. Okay? You’re fit and ready. If you’re going to be great, you have to show him now. I believe that you’re great. Now you have to believe it. You have to have the heart of a champion.

  It’s important. For Jake, it’s important—

  That was too much. Unfair. She couldn’t tie all her hopes for Jake’s welfare to this horse who had no connection to Iraq and the Marines and PTSD. Silver had had nothing to do with the scar that marked Jake’s face and the worse scars that ran through his psyche.

  As they started into the turn, the other riders began to let their horses’ speed unfurl. Lyndie gave Silver the freedom to do the same. She rode in the classic jockey’s body line; her boots resting in their high stirrups, her knees bent so that her lower legs and upper legs formed a ninety-degree angle.

  The other two horses started to pull away. Silver tracked them with his gaze, his ears flicking forward and backward. She gently nudged her heels into his sides, encouraging him. “Run,” she whispered.

  He merely galloped. The other horses lengthened their lead. One of the riders shot a glance over his shoulder at her.

  Lyndie’s spirits sank. “Silver Leaf, come on. Run!”

  His pace remained the same. She’d been wrong. Her wild idea hadn’t panned out. This horse was exactly what his past had proven him to be.

  And yet, her stubborn streak refused to give up. She could feel the ability in him. He could run like the wind, her intuition was positive of it. “Please,” she urged. Leaning into him, she did her best to propel him forward with the force of her will. “Run!”

  And suddenly . . .

  He answered.

  Silver’s legs stretched out in longer and longer strides, his hooves biting into the dirt in a quickening cadence as he began to devour the ground. He was coordination personified, astonishingly smooth and fluid.

  “Yes!” Lyndie moved her hands in tandem with his rhythm so that he could sprint faster. They melded into a seamless unit, fully in sync.

  They closed in on the other two Thoroughbreds. The track zipped toward them and flew beneath. Silver shifted into yet another gear, moving even faster in an effort to catch and best the other two. He had heart. She’d known it! He had heart.

  His raw power sent chills coursing over Lyndie’s skin. She’d ridden a lot of fast horses, but this kind of pace was as rare as diamonds. What’s more, she could sense that he had additional strength in reserve. If she asked him to give more, he’d be able.

  They came even with the other two, filling the wide opening between them. Silver would have surged ahead, except that they’d reached a half of a mile and all three riders eased their horses’ speed.

  They flashed by Jake at a gallop. He was standing upright, as if he’d pushed away from leaning against the rail when Silver Leaf had begun to make his move. His hands hung at his sides, one clutching a stopwatch. Unguarded surprise stamped his expression.

  Lyndie laughed with pure joy. Silver Leaf! Silver Leaf had just run for her as he’d never run for anyone. She was female, and she’d earned his trust—so when she’d asked him, he’d run. And what a run! As they slowed, she whooped and tilted her face upward to heaven, where all good gifts originated. Thank you, God! Exhilaration surged through her limbs.

  She cooled Silver, then steered him to Jake. Now that he’d had time to recover, Jake had regained his usual tight control over himself. Except that a slight curve—almost a smile?—lifted one side of his lips.

  That small, subdued curve turned her emotions into a river of honey. Much too strong a response to such a mild stimulus. It’s just that . . . She’d done it. She’d solved Silver’s mystery, and she couldn’t have been prouder or gladder. For you, Jake, she wanted to say with a grand “Ta-da!” motion of her arms. I hereby present to you a racehorse.

  Jake took hold of Silver’s bridle. He looked at the horse as if he couldn’t quite believe what he’d just witnessed, shaking his head slowly.

  Jake was perhaps a man too unaccustomed to miracles.

  Silver Leaf held his neck at a kingly angle and stood with still and patient hauteur. It was if he were saying to Jake, Why so surprised? Of course I’m fast, plebeian.

  Jake turned his attention to Lyndie. “Silver Leaf is a lady’s man.”

  “Yes.” She beamed. It took effort to restrain herself from dismounting and wrapping him in a celebratory hug. “Not only can he run, but he had more in the tank when I pulled him up. Did you see how he was increasing his speed there at the end?”

  “I saw.”

  “You did a good job training him and preparing him, Jake.”

  “None of my training made any difference before you came.”

  Lyndie gave a small
shrug. “I wanted to help. If I did, I’m happy.” In fact, she’d desperately wanted to help. Maybe even more desperately since Jake had encouraged her to look for work elsewhere. It meant a lot to her to know that she’d proven both his horse’s merit and her own.

  “Good work, Lyndie.”

  “Good work, Jake.”

  A hundred unspoken words charged the air. She got lost in his hazel gaze. She swallowed with effort, feeling her pulse stitching faster and faster.

  “Mr. Porter?” Another of Jake’s riders neared.

  Jake stepped away from Silver. Lyndie’s contact with him was severed, and his face returned to stone once more.

  For the remainder of the day, Jake replayed the memory of Lyndie and Silver Leaf together, racing toward him down the stretch. He’d been standing in his usual position, suffering through the same gut-twisting worry he experienced whenever he put Lyndie on a horse. And then he’d seen them do . . . that.

  Silver Leaf had moved with the sort of smooth and terrific stride that Jake’s dreams were made of. And Lyndie had looked like she’d become a part of the horse. She was small, but she was made of fine muscle, excellent instincts, and innate timing.

  He set aside the foil container that held what remained of his take-out dinner. Basketball filled the big-screen TV in his living room. He hadn’t been paying attention to the picture or registering the noise, however. He couldn’t see or hear anything except Silver Leaf’s run.

  Leaning back on his leather sofa, he stuck his hands behind his head and peered at his loft’s white ceiling, marked regularly with recessed lights.

  He had worked Silver Leaf in the round pen as a yearling. He’d developed him over countless dark and cold early morning practice sessions. He’d raced him at the track repeatedly. Never had he seen the horse run like that. Or anything even close to that.

  It had almost seemed supernatural to him, what he’d seen today. He’d clocked Silver Leaf at a time so fast that it opened up a world of possibilities and more than fulfilled the hope for Silver Leaf that Lyndie had stirred within him.