A Love Like Ours (23 page)

“We did it!” Lyndie said to Silver for maybe the third or fourth time, laughing with astonishment and patting his sweaty neck. “We did it. We won! Congratulations, Silver. What a great racehorse you are.” The thrill of triumph gusted within her like a hurricane too large for her body to contain.

Zoe and one of Jake’s hand-walkers rushed forward to meet them. “I knew it!” Zoe beamed. “That was so awesome, Lyndie. Way to go!”

“He was ready, just like you said.”

Zoe hoisted the sponge that floated atop her bucket of water and ran it over Silver’s head.

Lyndie looked around, reorienting herself with the world that existed beyond the track. The sky was still in its place. The grandstands. Faraway trees. There was one important landmark, however, that she couldn’t locate. “Where’s Jake?”

“I don’t know. He should be here any minute.” Zoe continued to attend to Silver, chattering to him excitedly all the while.

Silver Leaf hadn’t just won his race, he’d crushed the competition. He’d soared. This had to be one of the top ten happiest moments in Lyndie’s life, and she was beyond eager to share it with Jake.

In the winner’s circle, a boisterous group greeted them with congratulations. Beneath a beautiful white hat, tears of joy ran down Meg’s face. Bo hugged his wife, laughed, and handed her a tissue.

“You made me a hundred bucks!” Amber announced, holding her betting ticket in the air.

“You made me five hundred,” Ty said.

Lyndie scanned the group. Celia, Dru, her own parents, and Grandpa Harold caught her eye and called out more well wishes. As did Nancy and John Porter, Jake’s mom and dad. Had Silver Leaf won the Breeder’s Cup, they could not have been more jubilant than they were over Silver’s miracle run.

Lyndie bent toward Bo. “Where’s Jake?”

He craned his neck to search through the crowd. “I don’t know—ah, here he comes.”

Lyndie straightened, finally catching sight of Jake striding toward them. It didn’t seem right that the man most responsible for Silver’s success had arrived last. He accepted handshakes as stoically as always.

What he didn’t do? Look up at her. She waited. Waited. Until he finally angled his attention in her direction. One burning half second passed between them, then he turned toward the photographer, who bustled everyone into position for a picture.

Lyndie dismounted as soon as the photo had been snapped. Silver needed to be cooled down thoroughly and taken to the testing barn. Lyndie needed to weigh herself and her gear again.

Meg wrapped her in a hug. “Thank you. This means a lot to me.”

“You’re very welcome.” Lyndie hugged her back. “I’m so happy for you, Meg. Your faith in Silver Leaf paid off.”

Meg stepped away, smiling through more tears. Bo swiveled his wife into his chest and kissed her soundly.

“Sheesh,” Dru muttered.

Zoe led Silver away from the group. Jake and Lyndie followed, their families applauding as they passed.

They threaded their way through a throng of track employees on their way to the tunnel. One young man laughed at something his friend had said, then stumbled backward into Lyndie’s path.

Jake’s hand shot out, stopping the man before he could bump into her. “Watch it.”

“Oh. Sorry about that. Wasn’t paying attention.”

Jake scowled so intensely that the poor guy swallowed nervously.

“It’s all right,” Lyndie reassured the young man as Jake steered her into the quiet and shade of the tunnel.

Lyndie stopped to talk to him, but he continued on as if he hadn’t noticed.

She hurried to catch up, putting a hand on his arm to stay him.

Instantly, his steps halted.

They should both be overcome with elation, right? Instead, his eyes glowed like chips of ice in a face carved with tension.

“You don’t look too happy.” She slid her hand from his sleeve.

His shoulders were very wide, his height towering. “You rode a good race.”

“Thank you. I didn’t do much, as you could probably tell. Silver Leaf was outstanding.”

“You did plenty.”

The depth of her feelings for him rattled her. She
really
wanted him to be thrilled, like she was. Also, she wanted to hug him. Badly. “Congratulations, Jake.”

He inclined his head. “Congratulations, Lyndie. I’ll see you at work in the morning—”

“Wait,” she blurted when he moved as if to leave.

“Yes?”

What are you going to do, Lyndie? Follow through on your desire to hug him? Throw your arms around him and kiss him? Tell him how you feel about him?

The hard look on his face convinced her not to try any of the above. She didn’t want to be swept away by post-race excitement and do something that would end up setting their relationship back. “Never mind. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He turned and stalked away.

W
elcome to tonight’s gokon!” A plump brunette with a beautifully curly bob beamed at the long table of twelve.

Before sitting, the singles had been asked to enter a private room at the Hibachi-style restaurant, take off their shoes, and find their places on patterned pillows at a table so low to the ground that its dimensions would have better suited four-year-olds. The men lined one side, the women the other.

“This is fun,” Amber whispered from the pillow next to Lyndie’s. “Admit you’re glad you came.”

“I’m reserving judgment,” Lyndie answered.

“The event tonight is inspired by the Japanese group-dating model,” the brunette with the curly bob announced. “Each of you has come with a friend or two or three, which is great. So.” She set her palms together. “How about we begin with an icebreaker?”

Lyndie hid a sigh. To her, icebreakers always felt painfully forced.

“Have ya’ll ever played truth, truth, lie?” The brunette smiled wide. “Tell us two truths about yourself and one lie. The rest of us will try to guess which one’s the lie. Okay?”

Everyone murmured uncomfortably while shooting bland smiles at the strangers sitting across from them in their stocking feet.

Lyndie had the last pillow on her end of the table. Lucky for her, the game would be kicking off at the other end. She peeked in that direction, her gaze accidentally intersecting with Luke, her former square dancing partner. When she’d first spotted him here at the Hibachi restaurant, she’d hoped for a coincidence. Alas, no. He’d signed up for the gokon.

He gave her a grin and launched into a trio of allergy sneezes.

A guy with a beard, a do-rag, and a Megadeth T-shirt received the first turn at truth, truth, lie. “I’ve done time,” he stated. “I flunked my GED once. I like to bet on dog fights.”

Two of these things were true?

A round of nervous laughter erupted from the table. A few people shifted their eyes from side to side, maybe charting exit routes.

Some of the attendees attempted to guess which was the lie.

“Remind me why I agreed to go on three dates in three months,” Lyndie said to Amber, her voice hushed.

“Because I offered to care for your animals. Anyway, I think the jailbird down there is kind of cute in a really terrifying way.”

“You don’t.”

“No, I don’t. But remember, I’m wishing that I was on a date right at this moment with a fireman who has the prettiest blue-gray eyes I’ve ever seen. Instead of being grumpy about the gokon like you, I’m choosing to be positive.”

“Which is the lie?” the brunette finally asked the jailbird.

“I didn’t flunk my GED once,” he said.

Chittery laughter from the brunette. “Of course you didn’t!”

“I flunked it twice.”

Silence fell.

Amber’s shoulders slumped. “I may need a drink.”

“The only thing we drink is coffee.”

“Oh, right. Drat. I’m paying a babysitter for this.”

When it came time for Luke to take his turn, he began by knuckling red and watery eyes. “My name’s Luke. I have blond hair. It’s the month of April.”

“None of those are lies, dude,” the guy sitting next to him pointed out. “It is April.”

“One’s a lie,” Luke insisted.

“Do you dye your hair?” a timid girl the size of a dragonfly ventured.

“Nope.”

“You’re not named . . . Luke?” Amber asked.

“No, I’m not. I go by Luke but it’s not my first name. My first name is Alejandro.”

“I’m looking at my watch, and fifteen minutes have gone by!” The brunette pushed to her feet and clapped. “Ladies, you can stay in your seats all evening. Gentlemen, you’re going to move one seat to your right every fifteen minutes so that we can mingle. Say
sayonara
to your current seat and
konnichiwa
to your new one!”

Which meant Lyndie was going to lose the nice redheaded guy with the face full of cinnamon freckles who was currently sitting across from her.

“Okay, now let’s continue with truth, truth, lie!” The brunette gestured to a pale and flushing woman with an ultra-short haircut. “Your turn.”

Lyndie wanted her dogs, her apartment, and the fresh flower arrangement she’d brought home this afternoon. She missed Jake.

After Silver Leaf’s win, for the past two mornings, she and Jake had picked right back up where they’d left off. Her, exercising his horses. Him, letting her hang out with him afterward.

Jake, Jake, Jake. Jake, who could set her heart racing with a glance. Jake, who was poetry with horses. Jake, whom she desperately wanted to see smile. He was difficult to comprehend and injured and shielded and dangerous. He was also the one who captivated her thoughts, who filled her with physical yearning, who’d made her care.

Jake pulled his truck to the curb across from Lyndie’s apartment. At this hour, the houses in her neighborhood sat either
completely dark or almost completely. Nothing moved on her street except blades of grass and tree branches. He kept his engine idling and checked his watch. Eleven forty-five.

He and Bo had been present at a foaling tonight, and he was on his way home. He’d driven by Lyndie’s because . . .

He glanced at her apartment, then out his front windshield. He didn’t know why he’d come. He wasn’t going to stay and he definitely wasn’t going to knock on her door. He’d driven by, he supposed, just to make sure that she was all right. And to try to get his head straight.

Because Amber had told Meg, and Meg had told Bo, and Bo had told him, he knew that Lyndie had gone out earlier tonight on that group date everybody had been talking about on Easter.

He’d been telling himself that if Lyndie had met somebody tonight, someone who was happy and solid and who’d love her like she deserved, then that would be the best thing for her. Which meant he should be okay with it.

Yet just the thought of her dating someone else filled him with so much misery and jealousy that he couldn’t stand himself. He bumped the back of his head against the seat.

He wanted what was best for Lyndie. But he also wanted her for himself. That was his torture.

Lately, he’d begun to wish that he could show her how he felt about her, trust her with his fears, or explain about the things he’d seen overseas. He wouldn’t let himself, though, because he didn’t want his problems anywhere near her.

Already, Lyndie was too brave and forgiving—

“Good evening.”

He flinched at the sound.

Lyndie had called the words softly from across the street. In the dim light, she smiled at him.

He cursed under his breath. She’d caught him. How could he explain why he was sitting outside her house alone in the dark? He couldn’t.

Lyndie hugged her long sweater around her body and made
her way to his truck. Under the sweater, she wore a white T-shirt, dark leggings, and a pair of fuzzy socks stuck into slippers. The wind lifted pieces of her beautiful, wavy hair.

She stopped on the other side of his door. “I looked out my kitchen window just now and saw you.”

Unlike his face, hers was perfect. She had smooth skin, a few freckles, clear eyes full of optimism.

“What brings you to the neighborhood, Jake?” Humor played over her lips. “Are you staking out a house for the FBI? Stargazing?”

When he didn’t answer, she tilted her head, letting him know that she was prepared to wait for an answer.

“I wanted to make sure you were okay,” he said. “That’s all.”

She blinked once. “Really?”

Jake nodded.

“That’s so kind of—”

“I’d better be going.” He reached for the gear shift—

“Step out of the truck.”

“Excuse me?”

“You’re not leaving.”

He aimed a disbelieving look at her. “It’s late and—”

“Step out of the truck, Jake.” Lyndie regarded him with endless determination. “Please.”

He looked away from her because he was worried she’d see his hunger for her in his eyes. He curled his fingers into his palms to stop himself from climbing from the truck and reaching for her.

Helpless devotion. Hopeless love.

He should go. Right at this moment, he should go. If he stayed, he was downright scared of what he might do, of what he might reveal.

———

Lyndie watched him, full of concern that he’d ignore her request and drive away . . . that she might never break down his barriers . . . that he might spend the rest of his life running away from her.

He’d been hurt physically and mentally, and she understood. However, she was done with giving him space because giving him space had not helped him.

She’d been meant to see Jake out her window, she just knew it. Unable to settle her mind, she’d been lying in bed praying about him for the past twenty minutes. She’d padded into her kitchen for a midnight snack and—boom—caught sight of him sitting alone in his truck in this unrelenting darkness.

He still hadn’t moved.

Please, Lord
, she begged as she opened the truck’s door.

Jake shot her an inscrutable look, and her spirits tumbled. She’d lost him. He was about to pull the door closed and drive away.

Instead, he turned off the engine. He stepped down from the cab and pushed his keys into a front pocket of his beat-up jeans.

Oh my. Her brazen demand that he exit the truck had actually worked. Now she had a big, surly cowboy standing in front of her. Beneath his navy shirt, the powerful muscles of his upper body had tensed. He wore his size and a cynical frown like shields.

She ignored all that and took a step toward him. He stepped immediately back. His truck gave him little room to retreat. Courage and fear swarmed so furiously in her brain that she couldn’t find a coherent thought. She supposed she should be worried about wrecking the friendship they’d built. She was, a little.

Still, she followed instinct and took another step toward him. He stepped back again, which brought him up against the bulk of his truck.

Nowhere left to hide, Jake
.

She placed her palm on his chest. Just like that.

His eyes glowed feverish in the moonlight. She could feel the warmth of his skin beneath her hand. The fast rhythm of his heart matched the rapid beat of her own.

Wind gusted, ruffling his dark hair. His ragged breathing filled the silence. He was painfully desirable to her, with his scars and his fractured soul. He was Jake. “I want to kiss you,” she whispered.

His upper body went rigid, as if preparing for another IED explosion that would do them both irreparable damage.

She placed her other palm on his chest and tugged him down to her as she rose onto her tiptoes. Slowly, she neared, pausing just
an inch away from his profile. Their forceful chemistry overtook her, and the scent of mesquite wrapped around her the instant before she set her lips to his.

His mouth was warm, smooth. Also . . . unresponsive.

She pulled away the distance of a trembling inhale and dug her fingers into his shirt.
Kiss me
, she wanted to demand.
I adore you, and I want you to adore me
.

Still nothing from him except stricken stillness.

Lyndie leaned into Jake again, this time kissing the edge of his lips with a caress as light as the whisper of silk.
Kiss me back.
I’d do anything in the world for you. Kiss
me back
.

Nothing. She gave him a long, torturous moment to respond.

When he didn’t, her soul shriveled. She lowered onto her heels. Her hands dropped to her sides, and she stepped away. She’d held his face in her hands that day at the ranch. Just now, she’d kissed him. And both times, nothing.

He was like a statue. And though she wanted to be good for him, he wouldn’t let her be good for him. She wished she could say something to lighten the moment, but if she tried, he’d know she was lying. This moment of crushing disappointment couldn’t be lightened.

She swung away from him and walked two paces toward her house—

His fingers banded around her wrist, stopping her. Unfounded hope leapt into her breast as he turned her to face him in the middle of the deserted street.

Jake lifted the wrist he’d grasped, then bent his head and kissed the heart of her palm. Wonder and thankfulness brought tears to the rims of her lashes. She willed the moisture away, wanting nothing to interfere with her vision of this, of him. He lowered their hands but didn’t let go. His fingers interlaced with hers.

For the first time, the mask he wore had gone. She could see in the devastated honesty of his face that he cared about her. “I . . .” He looked to be fighting an internal war with himself. “You shouldn’t have kissed me,” he said at last.

She gave him a small and wobbly smile. “But I did.”

“You shouldn’t have.”

“I’m not sorry.”

“Lyndie . . .”

She drank in the sensation of his hand holding hers. He was very familiar to her and yet
this
between them was stunningly new. Like a land they’d never explored.

“I’m not . . .” he spoke haltingly, his voice raspy, “. . . good enough for you.”

“Of course you’re good enough—”