A Weaver Baby Page 5

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Miguel believes you assigned Lat exclusively to me because I exercised my feminine wiles over you!”

  “I told him—”

  She huffed out a breath. “It doesn’t matter what you told him. It doesn’t matter what you say. They judge based on what they see and what much more interesting story their minds can create. They’re a group who believes in the theory of where there’s smoke, there’s fire.” And heaven knew there’d been plenty of fire between Jake and J.D. that night.

  When she wasn’t trying to figure out what was the best thing to do now, she was still feeling scorched by the memory of those flames.

  “I’ll get Miguel straightened out.”

  She couldn’t help but laugh a little, though there wasn’t much humor in it. “The more you try to fix the situation with Miguel, the more he’s going to think what he already thinks.” Her hands lifted to her sides. “And the fact of the matter is, he’s right. You assigned Lat to me because…because—”

  “I thought we’d gotten that straightened out.”

  “All we did was put off the matter while you dealt with your wife’s accident.”

  “I told you before. Ex-wife,” he corrected.

  Her gaze snuck to the mansion behind him. The gracious dwelling had never possessed a replacement for her—the only woman he’d ever cared enough about to marry. “It doesn’t matter anyway.” She drew her thoughts away from that direction back to where they belonged. Everything that went on in the tight, surprisingly small world of thoroughbred racing had to do with reputation. All Miguel had to do was voice one hint that J.D.’s “promotion” where Latitude was concerned occurred because of her personal relationship with Jake, and she’d never be judged on her real merit again. She’d never be taken seriously as a trainer once she left Forrest’s Crossing.

  That would be true even if there were only rumors.

  Jake’s gaze sharpened even more. “If it doesn’t matter, why are you making an issue about it?”

  No matter what Jake’s reaction would be when he learned about the baby, she knew she couldn’t continue to work for him. And thanks to the gossip about them, she wouldn’t be able to work anywhere else. Not in the blood horse world, anyway.

  She hadn’t gone to him before to resign, though he’d thought so at the time. It was almost ironic, really. Even without knowing she was pregnant with his child, he’d seen that reality before she had.

  “I can’t work here anymore, Jake,” she said. “I’m sorry.” And she really was.

  “I don’t want you to go.”

  Something inside her clutched—hard. Her hands went sweaty and she swallowed. “Why?”

  His jaw flexed. “Latitude runs for you, J.D., and you know how much I want to be in the winner’s circle at the Derby next May.”

  She prided herself on having her eyes open where Jake was concerned. So the pang she felt was considerably sharper than it should have been. “Latitude runs because he loves it. But Miguel will have Platinum ready for the Kentucky Derby, too. He has just as good a chance as Latitude. And the Derby is still eight months away, anyway. Tell Miguel to put his nephew Pedro on his back for the Champagne Stakes. I’ve seen the kid on the track and with Latitude. He’ll do fine. And if Miguel isn’t the right handler, you’ll find someone else who is.”

  “I already did,” he said pointedly.

  The back of her throat felt tight and achy. On any other day, she might have felt like she was coming down with the bug that was going around the place. For Jake, everything revolved around him winning. And it was the height of irony that it was the colt she so loved that was now making it more impossible than ever. “I can’t stay, Jake.”

  “Because of what I did to you.”

  She closed her eyes for a moment, pained. “What we did.” Honesty wouldn’t allow her to let him shoulder that. “For heaven’s sake, Jake, I was more than willing, in case you’ve forgotten.”

  He shoved his hands through his hair, then scrubbed his palms down his face. “Willing or not, I should’ve known better.” He dropped his hands, but the grimace was still there. “You’re the kind of woman who probably thinks you’re supposed to want to marry a man when you’re sleeping with him. Or at least be in love with him.”

  She folded her arms across her chest. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

  He lifted an eyebrow. “You’re saying that you’re not old-fashioned when it comes to sex? You, who hadn’t done this in a long while?”

  She flushed. Trust the man to remember what she’d said to him that night. “Being discriminating doesn’t necessarily mean a person is old-fashioned.”

  “Then why the hell can’t you work here, anymore?”

  Tell him.

  The command circled inside her head. Her lips parted; the words sitting on the tip of her tongue, ready to trip off.

  That ache returned to the back of her throat. She’d seen him with his sons. She looked up at Jake. “Because I’m going home,” she finally said.

  His brows drew together. “Home. What the hell’s that supposed to mean?”

  Her eyes stung and she looked back at her practical, dusty pickup that looked so incongruous sitting behind his expensive sports car. “It means home. Where I belong,” she finished huskily. “Home to Wyoming.”

  Chapter Five

  J.D. swallowed the knot of nervousness inside her when she pulled up at the big house, which was how most people referred to the main house at the Double-C ranch where her father and his four brothers had grown up. There were already a dozen cars parked on the circular gravel drive, meaning there were twice that many people inside.

  She’d been back in Wyoming for two weeks now, and aside from the first weekend when everyone had descended on her parents’ place to welcome her home, she’d been busy enough looking at properties to buy to avoid too many family get-togethers.

  But today was her niece’s birthday and there was no way she could get out of making an appearance.

  She wove her way through the haphazard congestion, parking almost at the back of the house, right on the grass.

  It hadn’t snowed yet that year, but signs of the dropping October temperatures were visible all around, most notably on the grass that was turning brown and crisp. She climbed out of her truck, her eyes roving over the wide-open expanse of land surrounding the outbuildings. For as far as the eye could see—and beyond—the land was owned by one member of the Clay family or another. They ran cattle, raised dairy and bred horses.

  And she, she would be boarding horses, just as soon as she could get the run-down property she’d bought that week for a song into decent enough shape. She didn’t mind the work ahead of her.

  It would leave her with little time to think about everything—and everyone—she’d left behind in Georgia.

  “You gonna stand out here and daydream, or go inside?” The slightly rough voice brought her attention around to the tall man leaning against the house, a thin trail of smoke winding upward from the cigarette he held.

  The sight of her cousin, Ryan, was still enough to jar her.

  For one thing, he’d gone missing years earlier. And after years of searching and years of hoping, they’d accepted the worst. They’d grieved. They’d had a funeral for him. Then, earlier that year, he’d miraculously shown up on the night of their cousin Axel’s wedding. For another thing, the smiling, wry Ryan with whom she’d grown up was nowhere in evidence within the utterly solemn, grim man who’d returned. He was only five years older than she was, but could have passed for ten.

  They’d all wept for joy, anyway. He was still Ryan. He was still one of their own. And the fact that he hadn’t explained his absence to a single member of the family was his business. And frankly, something she sort of understood a little better these days.

  “Cigarettes will kill you, you know,” she told him, instead of answering.

  “Something ought to.” His lips barely twisted as he lifted
his hand to his mouth to inhale.

  She rounded her truck, heading to the stairs that led to the rear entrance of the big house. “Guess we’re all hoping that doesn’t come any sooner than we’d already believed.” Before he could comment, she snatched the cigarette from between his fingers and ground it beneath her heel. “Nobody around here wants second-hand smoke, either.”

  His blue eyes narrowed. “Still bossy, J.D.?”

  She patted his unshaven cheek. “Come inside.”

  He grimaced. “You know, there are twenty teenage girls in there.”

  “Surely you’re not afraid?”

  “Hell, yeah.” He practically shuddered.

  She tucked her arm in his and tugged him toward the stairs. “Be brave.” She winked at him as if she’d had no reservations of her own about showing up there. “There’ll be cake and ice cream afterward if you’re good.”

  He exhaled, but went up the stairs with her, pulling open the wooden screen door for her. She felt Ryan’s faint hesitation as they entered the kitchen, which was crowded with people—mostly the preteens Ryan had expected. He’d been back for a solid seven months, but it was plainly obvious that he had to make an effort to be among crowds—whether formed by family or not.

  “Hello, sweeties.” Their aunt Jaimie noticed them first. “Work your way through. Ryan, your dad is playing bartender in the basement well away from these young ladies if either of you are interested in something other than cider and lemonade.” She smiled humorously. “Your uncles are down there hogging the pool table as usual.”

  “Grandma,” Megan, the birthday girl, wrapped her arms around Jaimie’s waist, “please can I take my friends out to see the kittens before we have lunch? Grandpa already said we could, as long as we didn’t climb in the barn rafters.” She giggled. “Like we’re crazy enough to do that.”

  J.D. laughed. More than once, she’d heard the story about Jaimie doing just that while trying to rescue a cat—a cat Matthew still maintained hadn’t needed rescuing at all. “Yes, who would be crazy enough to do that?”

  Jaimie shooed her away with a wave as she dropped a kiss on her adopted granddaughter’s nose. “You may go to the barn. But we’ll be ready to eat in a half hour so be back by then.”

  Ryan headed straight for the basement stairs as the chattering girls moved en masse toward the back door. J.D. quickly shifted out of their way before she got caught in their wave. “Where’s Mom?”

  “Aunt Maggie’s in the dining room with Mom,” Megan called out before she scampered out of the kitchen on the heels of the departing.

  Jaimie blew out a breath when the screen door swung shut with a bang after them. “Every year I suggest having Megan’s and Eli’s birthday parties out here, and every year once the hoards descend, I wonder if I’ve lost my mind. Sarah and Max might not have as much room as we do, but they certainly have more energy!”

  “You love it,” J.D. reminded, and her aunt’s dimple flashed as she turned back to the trays she was filling with food. J.D. left her and headed to the dining room to find her mother and her cousin arranging cups and plates on the table. “Need help?”

  Maggie gave J.D. a quick kiss and Sarah shook her head, making her strawberry-blond ponytail sway. “We’re almost finished in here. For sanity’s sake we’re doing buffet style.”

  Maggie lifted her chin toward the doorway that led out to the family room. “Your brother is here already. Said to tell you to hurry because that horse race is about to start. It’s on in the basement, too. Everyone wants to see that horse of yours.”

  J.D. managed a smile. “He’s not my horse.” Since there was nothing for her to help with, she headed into the family room where most of the furniture was already occupied. She should have known that nobody in the family would forget that the Champagne Stakes was being run that afternoon. The Champagne was a prestigious race for two-year-olds.

  She almost wished they would have.

  She’d spent most of the day picking up her cell phone to call Jake to wish them luck, only to set it down again without dialing.

  She barely found a perch on a corner next to Tara—Axel’s new wife—who was rocking their sleeping baby boy, Aidan. J.D. smiled at her and peeked beneath the edge of the blanket covering part of his cherubic face, but she turned quickly toward the large television when the horses burst out of the starting gate.

  Her heart leapt into her throat and she sat forward, her eyes glued to the image of Latitude’s powerful surge through the field.

  “Looks poky to me.” Her grandfather, Squire Clay, sat nearest the television, leaning even closer as he rested his hands atop the sturdy walking stick braced on the floor in front of him. “Platinum Cross is the favorite to win. He’s already got the lead.”

  J.D. shook her head. “Platinum is a great horse, but Latitude’ll come up by the final turn. You watch.”

  Someone turned the volume up, and the room seemed filled with the pulse-pounding hooves.

  “Eighth in the first turn. You know that jockey?” J.D.’s father, Daniel, moved behind her. His hand covered her shoulder and squeezed.

  “Pedro Perez. He’s Miguel’s nephew.”

  “Well, he’s got your horse in a helluva lot of traffic,” Squire sniffed. “They need some room.”

  And they weren’t finding it. She clasped her hands together and blew into her fists. Come on, Lat. Run just because you love it.

  Squire slapped his knee as Latitude suddenly found space and surged to the outside where J.D. knew he liked to run best. “Look at that boy move!” He shot J.D. agrin. “Our girl taught him that.”

  She smiled wryly and shook her head. “That’s all Latitude,” she assured, still watching the television. The handsome devil’s nose reached out, his black tail streaming out behind his powerful, mahogany body as he thundered forward, steadily overtaking one after another, until he was solidly in third. The commentator’s words were as rapid as the hoof beats and as excited as the cheering from the stands as another horse, Sideofhoney, nosed ahead of Platinum who fell even farther behind. The field barreled toward the final turn and in the last seconds, Latitude surged in the backstretch, closing three full lengths to take the lead from Sideofhoney like it was a cakewalk.

  “Hot damn!” Squire thumped his walking stick on the floor. “That is one fine piece of horseflesh.” His pale blue eyes were sharp and clear as he looked back at J.D. “Winning that thing gets him a spot in the Breeder’s Cup, doesn’t it?”

  “The Juvenile,” she confirmed. Jake would be very happy. The Breeder’s Cup was like the Super Bowl of horseracing. It drew the best horses in the world and was the richest weekend in the sport. And yet, J.D. knew that if it came to a choice for Jake, a win at the Kentucky Derby mattered more to him.

  The television panned from the finish line to the stands where Miguel stood with Jake and his sister, Sidney, and his aunt. They were clearly elated.

  There was no sign of Jake’s sons with them.

  Tucking her disappointment out of sight was more difficult than she expected, and she turned away from the television.

  Zach and Connor’s absence wasn’t necessarily proof that Jake had sent them back to their California school, but it seemed likely. They might be able to visit their recovering mother more easily, but J.D. still felt bad for all of them.

  Including Jake.

  She murmured some excuse about helping in the kitchen, but knew that nobody was really paying any attention. Not when there was the usual amount of chaotic bantering going on. But she hadn’t made it down the hallway before her father called her name.

  She glanced back and something in his expression made her pause. “What?”

  He held out his hand toward her. “Sideofhoney collided with Latitude. They both went down.”

  Everything inside her went abruptly numb. She pushed past him to stand in front of the television.

  The sportscaster was on the screen, his perfectly coiffed hair and shining white teeth at odds with t
he silent video playing behind his shoulder of Pedro waving his hands to the crowd after the finish line, when the other horse suddenly pitched forward, veering into his path. Latitude stumbled and young Pedro jumped off his back, scrambling around to calm the abruptly frantic horses while people from all sides raced onto the track.

  Horror surged through her as the bit of film was played again. And again. But the toothy sportscaster didn’t give any more details other than the unconfirmed speculation that both colts had suffered injuries. After which he seemed to take grim delight in recounting the number of thoroughbreds who’d sustained catastrophic injuries while racing. “I have to call.”

  “Okay.” Her father’s hands pushed her toward a chair. “But sit down first. You’re swaying on your feet.”

  Was she? She sat, simply because it took too much concentration to fight him. But then she realized she didn’t have her cell phone. She’d left it in her truck. “I need a phone.”

  Word of the horses’ injuries had obviously spread as the family room filled with even more of her relatives. All looking from her to the television and back again.

  “Here.” J.D.’s mother Maggie tucked a cordless phone into her hand.

  J.D. focused hard on the keypad, shakily dialing first Jake’s number from memory, then the number for the stable. Nobody answered there, either. Not even young Toby. She finally disconnected the call.

  Already, the sportscaster had moved on to another story. It made J.D. want to throw her shoe at the screen.

  A clattering from the kitchen announced the return of the birthday revelers, and she scrubbed her hand over her face. “I’m going to go home. I want to keep trying to reach them and I can’t do that here. I don’t want anything ruining Megan’s birthday party.”

  “She’d understand,” Sarah said.

  J.D. knew that was probably true. Before her cousin and Max had adopted Megan, she’d already endured more in her young life than anyone should when her natural parents had been brutally killed. “You only get one thirteenth birthday,” she said.