A Love Like Ours Read online

  He’d employ Lyndie until the end of Lone Star’s season, and then she’d leave and things would return to normal and everything would be fine.

  Chapter Ten

  Sometimes, when disaster comes for you, it comes quickly.

  On Monday morning, Lyndie cantered Desert Willow past the grandstands at Lone Star. As always, numerous other Thoroughbreds, each traveling at a different speed, populated the track. All the trainers had just a four-hour window in which to exercise their horses.

  The gunmetal sky hung low, effectively muting the colors of the trees and buildings that surrounded the oval. Though the morning had remained dry, strong gusts of wind buffeted Lyndie, stinging her cheeks with cold. Just a few more laps and she’d be done with Willow, her final mount of the morning. There’d be coffee and probably a box of donuts waiting back at the barn.

  Lyndie gained on a colt ahead of her and to the inside. Just as she was about to draw past, the colt spooked and veered toward them. Willow reacted instantaneously, swerving to avoid the other horse. Lyndie’s center of gravity jerked to the side and before she could regain her balance, the colt wheeled into Willow, bumping them farther off course.

  The reins slipped through her hands. Sky and earth carouseled as she fell.

  ———

  Jake shouldered away from his foreman, who’d been talking to him. Throwing down his clipboard and stopwatch, he started running. No! Fear leapt within him as he watched Lyndie land hard on her side in the dirt. He flinched against the impact as if he’d been the one who’d fallen. Viciously, he wished it had been him. He ran harder.

  He watched Lyndie’s body curl inward as if in pain a split second before he saw the rider galloping toward her. Time spun out, slowing. Lyndie lay in the rider’s path, and Jake could see that the rider had no distance left to steer his mount away from her. With horrible certainty Jake knew what would happen—was happening—and could do nothing. He was too far away to stop it, to save her.

  His hand shot out, reaching. “No!” he yelled as the horse ran over the top of her. Cold terror flooded him.

  He sprinted, then skidded to his knees beside her. She was conscious, wheezing for air.

  “Lyndie,” he choked.

  She turned her gaze to him, her brown eyes wide, and gripped his hand.

  He wanted to ask her where she was hurt, but he couldn’t speak. His battle-trained gaze combed her form. He used his free hand to search her limbs for broken bones, blood.

  She was going to die, he knew it. He’d watched the horse go over her, and he hadn’t been able to stop it. He’d known the dangers, been aware every day that this could happen to her. But he’d let her ride, she’d been injured, and it was his fault. And now nothing would ever be the same.

  The pitiful sound of her struggling for breath tore at his heart. He couldn’t stand it. He jerked his head up, looking for help—

  The track’s outrider had gone after Desert Willow. The ambulance that always waited nearby eased onto the track and made its way in their direction.

  “I’m . . .” Lyndie rasped. She squeezed his hand urgently. “Jake.”

  He looked into her face.

  “I’m . . . fine.”

  He couldn’t answer. Water filled his eyes. His heartbeat thudded, painful. The last of the resentments he’d been harboring toward her burned clean away in the face of his panic.

  “Wind . . .” She gasped. “Knocked . . . out of . . . me.”

  Her reassurance did not comfort him. He’d seen the horse run over her. Eying his watch, he began to count her respirations per minute.

  The ambulance parked and its doors sprang open. “Hurry,” Jake growled, furious that it was taking them so long. Her breaths were slowing and becoming smoother.

  Lyndie attempted to sit.

  He stilled her with a scorching glance. “Don’t move until they say you can.”

  Two EMTs, a man and woman, ran over and knelt beside her. They began by asking her questions and gently unzipping her protective vest.

  “I’m okay.” While still weak, Lyndie’s voice sounded firmer than it had moments ago. Her hand remained in his, holding tightly. “I just had the wind knocked out of me when I fell. That’s all.”

  “A horse ran over her,” Jake told them.

  “Is that right?” the woman asked Lyndie.

  “Yes. I mean, I think so. When I saw the horse coming I closed my eyes and braced. May I sit up?”

  “If nothing’s hurting, then yes.”

  Jake let go of her hand so that he could support her behind her shoulders and ease her onto her bent elbows.

  “Where did the horse hit you, ma’am?”

  “He didn’t.”

  “Lyndie,” Jake threatened.

  “He didn’t.” Slowly, she looked to either side of her. “Look.” She pointed to a gouge in the ground a few inches from her shoulder. “Here.” She found another fresh imprint near where her feet had been. “And here.”

  The male EMT whistled under his breath. “That was a close call.”

  “Yes,” Lyndie agreed. “Very.”

  Jake bit down on his back teeth to keep from speaking. He didn’t see how the horse could have missed her.

  The female EMT listened to her heart with a stethoscope. Lyndie tugged off first one glove with her teeth, then the other. She handed them to Jake, and he pushed them into his jacket’s pocket. Once she’d released the chin strap, she pulled her helmet free. A small gold angel charm dangled from the knob on the helmet’s top.

  She showed it to the male EMT. “This isn’t the first time I’ve had someone watching over me.”

  “Not your first close call, huh?”

  Wind pushed across them. “No.”

  “I’m a believing man, myself.” The EMT smiled at Lyndie.

  Jake wanted to rip his face off. He had no idea why anyone was smiling.

  “Do you think you can walk over to the ambulance?” the female EMT asked Lyndie. “If not, we can bring a stretcher.”

  “I think—”

  “No stretcher,” Jake said flatly. “I’ll carry her.”

  “Jake . . .”

  “Sir, we can get the stretcher—”

  “I’ll carry her,” he insisted, commanding their silence. As carefully as he could, he collected her in his arms. She inhaled with surprise as he gathered her against his chest. With a surge he pushed to standing, then moved toward the ambulance.

  “You like me,” she said slowly, with a mixture of accusation and wonder. “You had me pretty convinced that you didn’t. But you do. You like me.”

  “You’re in shock.”

  “Maybe.” She locked her elbow over his shoulder. Her hand came to rest against the back of his neck. Then, lightly, her fingers sifted through his hair.

  He spared a look down at her and saw that she’d focused her attention on her fingers, as if intent on testing out the new sensation of touching him.

  He shouldn’t let her touch him. . . . Worry had his thoughts going five different ways, none of them straight. But he knew she shouldn’t be touching him.

  She was, though. And it was the sweetest physical contact he’d experienced in years. His traitor body responded to it.

  “Wow,” she said quietly, almost to herself. “You’re stronger than expected. You’re making this look easy—”

  “This is easy.”

  “But you didn’t have to carry me. Really.” Her fingers continued to play over the cords of his neck, between the short strands of his hair.

  What was she saying? He couldn’t concentrate. . . . Had the horse truly missed her when it had galloped over her? What was the likelihood of that?

  “I’m feeling better now,” she said. “I could’ve walked.”

  “I don’t want you walking. I want the EMTs to do their job and take you to the hospital.”

  “What? No. I don’t need to go to the hospital. I’m—”

  “You could have a concussion. You might not correctly
remember what just happened, but I remember it exactly. That horse ran over the top of you, Lyndie. You might have internal injuries—”

  “I might. But I don’t. Jake?”

  “Lyndie. Let them do their job.” He set her down on the back stoop of the ambulance.

  She grabbed both of his hands and tugged until he lowered onto his heels in front of her.

  “Please believe me.” She searched his face, while gripping his hands. He could feel her warmth and strength. “Your face is white, and I’m actually worried that they need to check your blood pressure. I don’t want to make a bigger spectacle than I already have. I really am fine.”

  He felt like his chest was caving in. She was going to talk these worthless EMTs into letting her walk away. “If they recommend a visit to the hospital, you’re going.”

  “I don’t need—”

  “If they recommend it, you’re going.”

  The EMTs did more testing. Jake waited at the open back doors of the ambulance like a protective watchdog, his arms crossed over his chest. He’d been on numerous tours with the Marines. He was no stranger to triage, and he knew his way around injuries. When the EMTs finished, they informed Lyndie that they didn’t think a trip to the hospital was necessary.

  “I want her seen by a doctor,” Jake stated.

  “It’s up to you,” the female EMT said to Lyndie. “It wouldn’t be a bad idea to see your doctor. Just to rule out a concussion.”

  Lyndie slid a look in his direction. He scowled at her.

  Her brows lowered and she mumbled something wry that sounded like “tall, dark, and brooding.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “I’ll have Zoe take me to see Dr. Dean in Holley,” Lyndie said.

  Both EMTs turned their faces in his direction, waiting.

  He could see by the stubborn angle of her chin that she’d made her best offer. “Fine.” He helped her from the ambulance.

  His heart still hadn’t settled into a regular rhythm. His brain kept replaying her fall, sending fresh spikes of anxiety through him each time.

  The helplessness he’d felt when he’d seen the other horse closing on Lyndie had brought back the helplessness that had branded into him eight years ago. He’d never, never wanted to feel that helpless again.

  He’d definitely never wanted to feel that helpless where Lyndie was concerned. Lyndie, the girl he’d spent his childhood protecting.

  What was he doing, getting himself all worked up over her like this?

  For the first time, Jake noticed the outrider standing a short distance away with Desert Willow and Jake’s barn foreman. Activity on the track had been suspended and wouldn’t resume until they’d all cleared the area.

  “Do you want the ambulance to take you back to the barn?” he asked Lyndie.

  “No, I’ll ride Willow back.”

  Figured. He spoke briefly to the outrider, then gave Lyndie a leg up onto Willow. “Hand-walk her back to the barn,” he instructed his foreman.

  “You’re not coming?” Lyndie asked.

  “No.” Without looking at her, he turned and strode toward his usual position at the rail.

  For a full hour he stood, unmoving, his hat shading his eyes, his shoulders hunched, his hands buried deep in his pockets. The cold sank into his bones, and he let it come. Horses and riders moved past while the wind hissed around and inside of him.

  Chapter Eleven

  Later that night, Lyndie’s phone chimed to signal an incoming text.

  Ah. From Luke, her square dancing partner who’d been fond of noting the obvious. It’s Monday, he wrote.

  She waited for him to venture more, but nothing came. Yes, she typed back.

  Can’t find anything good on TV. Want to grab dinner?

  Thanks for the offer, but I fell this morning at work so I’m going to stay in and take it easy tonight.

  You okay?

  I’m okay.

  All right. I’m signing off now.

  Lyndie set her phone facedown on her art desk. After the square dancing meet-up, she had a renewed appreciation for girl’s night in. Never more so than tonight, after her spill this morning, her visit to Dr. Dean, and the ensuing fuss made over her by her mom, dad, Zoe, and Amber. It was seven thirty, and she’d only gotten rid of the last of them half an hour ago.

  She positioned herself on her stool in her studio, her hair in a topknot. She had her pen in her hand, two different studio lamps lit, and her pets jockeying for the prized position of foot warmer.

  And now, finally, she had time and solitude to marvel over what she’d been wanting to marvel over all day. Namely, the fact that Jake did not entirely dislike her. No, no. His behavior today at the track had proven it. He liked her at least a little, and the truth of it made her heart melt and turned her thoughts into hopeful, unwarranted mush.

  When he’d come running over to where she’d been lying in the dirt of the track, he’d looked stricken. He’d taken her hand and tested her arms and legs for broken bones. At one point she thought she’d seen his eyes go shiny. With tears? Lord above! Could Jake Porter’s eyes have glistened with tears? Over her?!

  If she hadn’t just fallen off one horse and been run over by another, she’d have been able to remember everything Jake had done and said in more minute detail. As it was, the pain of her spill had fuzzed her memory slightly.

  He’d carried her. That part, she recalled perfectly. The rugged power of his arms and chest had enclosed her. Warmth and his mesquite-and-spice scent had seeped into her through his jacket. She’d wanted to turn her face into his shoulder and pass out from ecstasy.

  Since that would have been uncouth, she’d dared to run a few fingertips into the dark hair at his nape instead. She’d intended to be so subtle about it that he wouldn’t notice. But she was pretty sure he’d noticed.

  Maybe she had been slightly in shock. She’d said, “You like me” to Jake—her employer, let’s not forget—and combed her fingers through his hair.

  Twenty minutes later, Lyndie was dabbing her tiniest paintbrush into the cake of purple watercolor paint when a knock sounded on her front door.

  Pray, let it not be Luke.

  She padded to the door wearing the outfit she’d changed into after her shower. An ancient pair of jeans, her favorite hoodie, and pastel-striped slipper socks.

  She pulled open the door and found Jake on her landing, almost as if her thoughts had called him into being.

  Surprise momentarily froze Lyndie. Not so her Cavaliers. They fell over themselves jumping up on him and trying to impress him with their excitement.

  He wore no cowboy hat. He was holding a package of something in one hand. The blazing yellows and sulky oranges of sunset framed his imposing silhouette. And she was still having trouble adjusting to the reality of him on her porch. Especially after everything that had gone down between them this morning.

  “May I come in?”

  She started. “Yes! Sorry. Of course.”

  “Were you expecting someone else?”

  “When I heard the knock I was thinking that it might be my mom, delivering me ice cream from Braums,” she fibbed.

  “I can go to Braums and get you something, if you want.”

  “Having you visit is enough.” She stepped back. “Come in.” When he made no immediate move, she pulled on the sleeve of his jacket, drew him over the threshold, and shut the door behind them. Touching him may not have been the wisest move. His arm had hardened noticeably beneath her grip.

  “Dogs! Down.” She pressed them both into sitting positions. “Stay.” The moment she brought her attention back to Jake, they jumped up on his jeans again. “Stay!” Then, to him, “Sorry. They love everyone. This jumping thing is their only flaw.”

  He gave each dog a quick scratch under its chin. “What’re their names?”

  “This one is Empress Felicity and this one is Gentleman Tobias.”

  He quirked a dark brow. “What kinds of names are those for dogs?”


  “Charming and creative ones.” She pointed down the hallway. “There’s Mrs. Mapleton.” Her ragdoll cat gave them a bored frown, then disappeared into the studio.

  Jake was here! “Um . . . Would you like to sit down?”

  “I . . . can’t stay long,” he said stiffly. “I just wanted to come by and . . .” He exhaled. His mouth set in a solemn line. “Are you okay?”

  Tenderness formed an almost painful knot in her chest. Surly Jake Porter had cared enough to come and check on her in person. “I’m fine.”

  “These are for you.” He extended the package, a bag of Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups.

  She took them, fighting back a sudden urge to cry over them. She’d been a Reese’s Peanut Butter Cup fanatic as a kid. He’d always given her all the ones he’d collected on Halloween. Looking back, she couldn’t remember why she’d let him do that. She should have insisted he keep them to enjoy.

  “Do you still like them?” he asked.

  “Some things”—she lifted her gaze to his—“don’t change.” The dogs’ tails thumped the floor. “Thank you for bringing these.” A handsome man delivering chocolate to your door? Nationally recognized cure-all. “Sit down and have some with me. I’ll take your coat.”

  He hesitated. She held out her hands for his jacket, and he finally shrugged out of it, revealing a baseball-style T-shirt. The torso of the shirt was white, the sleeves navy. It was well worn-in, like all the times through the washer and dryer had softened it.

  He looked big and untrusting and sexy. Physical awareness turned within her, delectable heat.

  She hung his jacket over one of her dining room chairs, catching the same campfire scent that had enveloped her when he’d, oh yes, carried her in his arms and she’d accused him of liking her and then petted his neck. “I’m in the mood for some coffee with these peanut butter cups. Is decaf okay?”

  He nodded, and she went to work scooping the expensive blend she considered well worth the cost into her coffeemaker.

  It wouldn’t do to read too much into the fact that he’d carried her this morning. His actions may not have had anything to do with her and him. Them. His past in Iraq may have ingrained a sense of responsibility into him that had made him react that way. It could be he’d have done the same for any of his riders.