A Love Like Ours (12 page)

“I think I may have to beg off the other two. I have a lot of work to do—”

“Don’t even try, Lyndie. One date down. Two to go.”

“What are you doing here, man?” Bo came to a stop in the doorway of Jake’s first-floor office, located in Whispering Creek’s lodge-style mansion.

Jake swiveled his desk chair from his computer toward his brother. “Working.”

“Have you noticed that it’s Sunday afternoon?” Bo motioned to the windows and the party Meg had going on the lawn for all the families that lived in the mansion. Lots of people and balloons. “Why don’t you come outside and join us?”

“Thanks, but I’m good.”

“Would it fly if I ordered you, as your boss, to take the day off?”

“It wouldn’t fly.”

“That’s what I thought.” Sighing, Bo took a seat in one of the chairs across from Jake’s desk. He picked up a binder clip and turned it end over end. “Did you hear about Lyndie and Amber’s night out last night?”

Bo’s question drew Jake’s full attention. “No.”

“Amber told Meg that the two of them went to a singles function at Fellowship Church.”

A murderous emotion surged to life inside Jake. A singles function? Lyndie was trying to pick up men?

“They square danced while they were there, apparently.” Bo tilted his head, studying Jake with interest. “Why are you staring at me like you want to kill me?”

“What kind of man goes to a square dance to meet women?”

“Men that are luckier in love than you are. Lyndie and Amber have agreed to three dates each over the next few months. The square dancing was the first.”

The tension within Jake mounted.

“This is just the beginning,” Bo said. “They still have two more dates to go.”

Ever since Jake returned from Iraq, his mental state had kept him disconnected from people. He’d been living behind a shield that had protected him from emotions and from relationships he couldn’t handle. He hadn’t liked nor hated the shield. It had just . . . been.

Lyndie, though. What was it about her? Her sense of humor, her determination, her kindness? Lyndie had somehow broken down his shield. And now that he found himself without it, he wanted it back.

But it was too late for that now, he feared.

Some horrible part of him had gone soft over her.

No
, he told himself. He couldn’t care about her. He refused to. His head wasn’t right. He didn’t know a lot of things, but he knew that he was too messed up for a relationship.

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.

S
ometimes, 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.