A Love Like Ours (3 page)

“California trainers wouldn’t know a Thoroughbred from a donkey.”

She paused for a half second, then laughed. “Zenyatta was a California horse.”

“Born in Kentucky.”

“Trained by a Californian.”

“Who was born in Kansas.”

“California Chrome was born in California,” she pointed out.

“Trained by someone born in New York.”

Her lips set in an amused line. “I suppose you think only Texan Thoroughbreds and trainers have merit.”

“Everything’s better in Texas.”

“I thought the saying was ‘Everything’s
bigger
in Texas.’”

“That too.”

She crossed her arms loosely. “Be careful, or I might think you have a sense of humor.”

“I wouldn’t want that.”

“No,” she answered cheerfully. “I can see that you wouldn’t.”

He remembered how much he’d enjoyed making her laugh when they were kids. Now, it physically hurt him to see her smile. It reminded him of all he’d lost. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to get back to work.”

She considered him for a moment. “Sure. I don’t want to keep you. I came out today because Bo told me that you have an opening for an exercise rider.”

He frowned, vicious words filling his mind.

“If you’re willing to give me an opportunity, I’d really like a chance at the position.”

His heart set to striking again, like a hammer against a rock. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

She didn’t step back or break their eye contact. “Why not?”

Since they’d started talking, she’d stirred more hostility in him than he’d experienced in years. He couldn’t do this daily. He couldn’t be around her for hours at a time, the way he was with his riders.

She reached back with one hand, grabbed and twisted her hair and brought it over her shoulder. The move jarred him because she’d pulled her hair forward just that way when she was young. “Jake?”

“We knew each other when we were kids and our moms are friends,” he stated.

“And?”

“It’s not enough. I don’t hire riders for either of those reasons.”

She tipped her chin up. “I don’t expect you to hire me for those reasons. I’d like for you to hire me because I’m qualified. I’ve built a solid résumé. I’ll email it to you.”

He didn’t give a rip about her résumé.

“Bo told me that there’s a training track here on the property.”

“There is.”

“May I come out one morning this week so that you can see how I ride?”

He didn’t want her anywhere near his track. “There’s no point.” Which was true. “I already have someone else in mind for the position.” Which was a lie.

“Please?”

What was the matter with him? What was it about her that made him want to help her, the same way he’d wanted to help her at the age of twelve? “I’ll think about it. Like I said, I have someone else in mind.”

“All right.” She studied him, then walked backward a few steps. “I’ll see you later.”

He held himself still as she turned.

“Oh.” After just a few paces, she swung back toward him. Her
hair hadn’t stayed over her shoulder. It never had when she was a kid, either. “Your colt?” She motioned to Desert Willow. “He had knee surgery, yes?”

Jake inclined his head.

“What are you thinking? Maybe five more days to recover?”

He furrowed his brow. How had she been able to diagnose a horse she’d hardly glanced at? “Something like that.”

Her lips curved. “Bye, Jake.”

Well,
Lyndie thought as she walked back to her car,
that did not go well.
And through no fault of her own. Tall, Dark, and Brooding was not a very friendly person. Not at all.

As soon as she’d come face-to-face with Jake, the worry she’d been feeling had drained away. She’d been too fascinated by him, too busy trying to comprehend that the friend of her childhood had become the tall stranger with the cutting gaze.

Jake was huge. Well over six feet. Of the three Porter brothers, he had the leanest build. He looked like a man who pushed himself hard at the gym. And perhaps indulged himself too little. He was made of muscle, without an inch of softness anywhere. Least of all, his face.

Those eyes! Lyndie blew out her breath. His gorgeous hazel eyes were downright haunted. Tortured, even. Beneath his black Stetson, their green-brown color had all but glowed. He had a straight nose, lips both masculine and beautiful, and a hard, serious jawline that led to a square chin. All of which added up to a face that was almost hard-to-believe handsome, like something she might give to a fairy-tale prince in one of her picture books. A perfect face, except for the scar. Flat and pale, his scar carved the skin from the side of his nose across his cheek.

Despite it all—the scar and his eyes and his size and his curt demeanor—he hadn’t succeeded at intimidating her. Well, not much, anyway. She’d spent her whole life living with the fear that her sister might die. She wasn’t easily intimidated.

Her strides lengthened as she passed by the paddocks on her way to the parking lot. One crystallizing emotion had risen within her during her conversation with Jake:
determination
.

Lyndie had never been able to stand in the presence of suffering without experiencing an almost unbearable inner compulsion to fix it. In some cases, like Mollie’s case, she could do nothing. But she sensed that she could do something for Jake.

She just didn’t know what it was yet.
God? He’s a tall order. You know that, right?

Lyndie tugged her phone from her back pocket and dialed. “Bo?”

“Hi, Lyndie. Did you find Jake?”

“I did, and he told me that he has someone else in mind for the position.”

“Figures. He’s stubborn.”

“Very stubborn. I asked him if I could at least come out to the track and ride. He said he didn’t see the point.”

“Hmm.” A brief pause. “He’s not the only one who can invite people out to the track. When would you like to come?”

“Thursday morning? That’ll give him two days to simmer down.”

Bo chuckled. “Little chance of him simmering down, but Thursday’s good. I’ll meet you there at seven o’clock.”

“I don’t want you to go to any trouble.”

“Are you kidding? I wouldn’t miss this for the world.”

“Thanks, Bo.”

She wanted a job exercising Jake’s horses, and she was going to go after exactly that. For her sake, and for the sake of whatever God might call her to do for Jake. She owed help to the boy she’d known. She hadn’t forgotten just how kind that boy had been to her. Or just how much she’d loved him.

S
o? How did your meeting with Jake go yesterday?” Amber Richardson, Lyndie’s downstairs neighbor and new friend, planted her elbows on the island that divided Amber’s kitchen from her living room.

“Badly. In fact,
badly
might be too hopeful a word.” Lyndie added a generous squeeze of chocolate to the two steaming mugs of coffee sitting on the counter in front of her. After her conversation with Jake, she’d thought about him the rest of the day, gone to bed praying over him, woken up to the memory of his face, then passed most of today obsessing about him.

“He’s difficult to talk to.” Amber swept a strand of shiny brown hair away from her face. Her royal blue scrubs matched the color of her eyes. “I’m sure you did better with him than I ever have. He makes me nervous, and I end up babbling to fill the silence. I take it he didn’t offer you the job?”

“No, but I’m not going to let that stop me.”

Amber let out an admiring whistle. “Good for you.”

“I’m hoping to ride for him tomorrow morning and convince him to hire me.”

“You’re a much braver woman than I am.”

“How long have you known Jake?”

“Ever since I moved to Holley.”

Lyndie dosed the two mugs with flavored creamer, then got busy adding huge caps of whipped cream to the coffee and to a kid-sized cup of hot chocolate.

Amber had shown up at Lyndie’s rented U-Haul the day Lyndie had moved in. The pretty brunette had picked up a cardboard box and managed to win over Lyndie and Lyndie’s parents somewhere between the sidewalk and the top of the staircase that led to Lyndie’s unit.

Since then, Lyndie and Amber had spent time visiting whenever they were out in the yard together—Lyndie with her dogs and Amber with her son. Lyndie had brought Amber one of her souped-up coffees during just such a visit, and a tradition had been established. Since Amber got off work early every Wednesday and since Lyndie worked from her home office on the children’s books she wrote and illustrated, they’d recently started meeting for “hump day” afternoon coffee dates.

Amber moved next to Lyndie and shook peppermint sprinkles onto their drinks. “It’s hard to believe because of the way time has flown, but Jayden and I lived at Whispering Creek for four years. I told you, right, about how Bo’s wife, Meg, turned the mansion at Whispering Creek into a temporary home for single-parent families?”

“Right.”

“Jayden and I were her first two clients. Is
clients
the right word?” She gave a small shake of her head. “Customers? Guests? Charity cases? That’s really what we were. Charity cases.” She whisked out a little tray and set the drinks, some napkins, and a plastic container of store-bought chocolate chip cookies onto it. “Meg’s so generous. She’s like a saint in my eyes, you know? If anyone deserves to be a mother, it’s her.”

“I talked with her both times I went over to the Porters’ for lunch. She seems wonderful.”

“She is. Did you know that she and Bo have been struggling with infertility?”

“My mom mentioned it to me.”

“They’ve been trying for a baby for two and a half years. Meg had a miscarriage six months ago.”

“I hadn’t heard that part.” Sympathy pricked Lyndie. “I’m so sorry.”

“When and if Meg and Bo finally have a baby, I’ll be the happiest person, next to them, in all of Holley. Meg’s awesome. I was able to get my degree and a job with Dr. Dean because of her.”

Amber worked as a nurse for Holley’s beloved family doctor. Even Lyndie had been a patient of Dr. Dean’s back in the day.

“Jayden and I just left Whispering Creek three months ago.” Amber motioned to the living room. “If this place looks like a starter apartment, that’s because it
is
a starter apartment.”

“In that case, it’s a great starter.”

“I agree.” Amber carried the tray to the kitchen table.

Their fabulous old brick building had once housed Holley’s Candy Shoppe. It was situated in the Victorian section of town, just a half a block from the historic town square. Amber rented out the first floor, which had once functioned as the kitchen and candy store. Lyndie rented out the second floor, originally the owner’s family dwelling.

Despite that Amber’s apartment did resemble a starter—it was on the bare side and the mismatched furniture all bore the stamp of hand-me-downs—Lyndie liked Amber’s half. The apartment reflected its tenant’s personality: genuine, casual, unpretentious.

The bay windows that surrounded the table framed a view of Amber’s five-year-old son sailing back and forth on a swing suspended from a tree branch. The roomy one-acre lot, almost all of it behind the house, doubled as Jayden’s personal amusement park.

Amber leaned out the back door. “Jayden! Your hot chocolate’s ready.”

In response, he jumped off the swing when it reached its forward-most point, launching himself into the air. Amazingly, he managed to land on his feet without breaking his shin bones in half. The scent of cool, crisp afternoon air followed him indoors.

“Hi, Jayden.”

“Hi, Ms. James.” He gave Lyndie a high five before they settled around the table. Despite the day’s cool temperature, his face had flushed from exercise and the light brown hair at his temples looked sweaty.

“Are you having a good day?” Lyndie asked.

“Yes, ma’am.”

She suspected that Jayden used
ma’am
and
sir
on everyone because he knew he needed something endearing to help counteract his mischievous streak and boundless energy. Jayden was a tornado in 5T clothing. A lovable tornado with missing top front teeth and hair that stuck up adorably in the front, thanks to the styling gel Amber used on it in the mornings.

“Did you bring your dogs?” he asked.

“They’re upstairs today.”

“What’s your cat’s name again?”

“Mrs. Mapleton. She’s taking a nap on my windowsill.”

“She’s always taking a nap.”

“That’s very true.”

Amber lifted her mug. “Thank you, Dr. Dean, for closing your office at three on Wednesdays.”

“Thank
you
for inviting me to join you for coffee,” Lyndie said to Amber.

“Thank
you
for bringing the coffee and all the fixin’s.”

Jayden pushed up the sleeves of his sweatshirt. “Can we drink now?”

“Have I told you guys yet today that I love my job?” Amber asked.

“Yes, Mom.”

“Okay, drink.”

They took sips that caused them all to sit back and lick whipped cream from their upper lips. The hot milky coffee slid down Lyndie’s throat, warming her.

Jayden aimed a white-topped grin in Lyndie’s direction. “Have you been doing any drawings?”

“I’m still trying to sketch and develop ideas for the story I told you about.”

“The fairy one?”

“Right, the fairy one.”

Jayden pulled a disgusted face and began listing all the reasons why he liked superheroes better than fairies.

Lyndie had launched Starring Me Productions, her line of children’s books, five years ago to supplement her income as a rider. From the beginning, her central idea had been to make each book customizable.

Parents could put their child’s name into the story, but not only that. Because of Mollie, she’d made sure that parents could also choose fonts and sizes to make reading easier for kids with learning differences, as well as a variety of formats for kids with special needs. So far, Lyndie offered ten different picture books on Starring Me’s website, featuring everything from pirates to firemen, princesses to mermaids.

Clients all across the country had been emailing her and sending her Facebook messages asking if and when she planned to add a book about fairies to her collection. The people had spoken, and the (little female) people wanted fairies. She planned to have a fairy book available in time for the Christmas shopping season. Since each book took between four and six months to create, she needed to get busy.

Except, for the first time ever, she’d been having a world of difficulty hitting on an inspiration that gave her that necessary flash of excitement. Which had begun to worry her.

Today, with Tall, Dark, and Brooding on her mind, her artistic efforts had totally bombed. Reason number five hundred why it was advisable to have oneself for a boss: Even when you hadn’t earned it, you could still treat yourself to a coffee break.

“Have you settled on a plot that you like yet?” Amber asked. “For the fairy book?”

“No. I still haven’t figured it out.” She lifted her shoulders.

“Beat a person hard,” Jayden said, “who, uh, gives up.”

Amber broke into laughter. “No, honey. The quote is, ‘It’s hard to beat a person who never gives up.’ Babe Ruth.”

“That’s a relief.” Lyndie sipped her coffee. “I wasn’t really looking forward to a hard beating.”

Jayden finished the last bite of his cookie and sprang from his seat. His attention, which never remained long on any subject, had been captured by two squirrels bounding across the backyard.

“Honey, here.” Amber reached a napkin across the table toward his face. “Let me just wipe your mouth—”

Too late. Jayden had already dashed outside.

“Remember to shut the door,” Amber called halfheartedly.

The two women watched Jayden chase the squirrels until they darted up a tree. He peered after the squirrels for a few seconds, then planted his stomach on the swing’s seat and used his tennis shoes to push himself in circles, twisting the rope arms of the swing around and around.

“So.” Amber regarded Lyndie with gentle interest. She was the sort of person, unlike Lyndie, who could wear gray nail polish, turquoise eye shadow, lots of mascara, and make it all look good. “Let’s bring this conversation back around to Jake Porter. I still haven’t heard the full scoop.”

“What else would you like to know?”

“Was he anything like you remember him being as a kid?”

“Yes and no.” Lyndie wrapped both hands around her mug. “Some things about his face were so familiar it was uncanny.”

“Like?”

“The way his mouth moves when he talks, the color of his eyes. The whole time we were talking, I was trying to reconcile my memories of him with who he is now.”

“What was his personality like back then?”

“He never was a huge talker. He was sensible, way more sensible than I was. Patient and trustworthy. Calm.”

“Calmness is a nice quality, isn’t it? Not really Jayden’s strength.” Amber tipped her head toward the boy who’d raised his arms and legs and was spinning wildly as the swing unwound. “What about
Jake’s scar?” Amber asked. “Were you able to adjust to that okay? I’ve seen people look away from him when they’re talking to him because they’re either uncomfortable with it or they’re trying to pretend not to notice it.”

“The scar didn’t bother me. My sister has cerebral palsy, so I guess I’m used to physical stuff that’s not so pretty.”

Amber nudged the cookies toward Lyndie. They each took one.

“I think Jake’s handsome.” Amber held her cookie suspended. “They say around town that before his accident he was the best-looking of all the Porter brothers, which is saying something.” She took a bite. “They’re all gorgeous. If Jake didn’t scare the tar out of me, I’d date him.”

“Has Jake dated anyone since his accident?”

“No one. Sort of like me. I haven’t gone out with anyone in years. I’ve been thinking lately that it might be time for me to get back out there and go on some dates.”

Amber was three or four inches taller than Lyndie, with the sort of curvy figure men salivated over. Her straight brown hair had been expertly cut in a blunt line at her shoulders. It always looked professionally blown-out even though Lyndie knew Amber did it herself. “You’re beautiful, Amber. You won’t have any difficulty finding men to date if that’s what you want to do.”

“What?” Amber pulled her head back, genuinely surprised. “You’re the beautiful one, Lyndie.”

“No!”

“Have you looked in a mirror lately?”

“I’m short and my hair’s flyaway crazy.”

“Your hair’s flyaway pretty.” Amber gave Lyndie a look that brooked no arguments. “The problem isn’t with you or me. The problem we’ll face is with the male dating pool around here.”

Amber’s use of
we’ll
in the sentence struck Lyndie with unease.

“Have you been to church and to Deep in the Heart, the country-western place?” Amber asked.

“I’ve been to both.”

“Then you’ve seen the selection of available men in this county. I
daydream about finding someone cute and Christian. But I already know that if I decide to put myself out there, I’ll need to widen my net. I’m a single mother, and I have access to the medical secrets of just about every man in this town. Those are two big strikes against me.” She leaned back in her chair and smiled. “If we
are
able to find a good bachelor somewhere, whoever he is, he’s going to want you, Lyndie.”

“He’s going to want
you
, Amber. I’m not the dating type, anyway.” Lyndie finished her cookie and brushed the crumbs from her hands. The flavors of chocolate and sugar lingered in her mouth.

Amber angled her head. “Not the dating type?”

“This hair’s really annoying me.” Lyndie swept her hair into a topknot, extracted a pen from her purse, and speared it through her bun to keep it in place.

“Still waiting,” Amber said, “for you to explain why you’re not the dating type.”

“I’ve never been that interested in dating,” Lyndie admitted. “I’ve been focused on my riding and my illustrating ever since I can remember.”

“And?” Amber prompted, unimpressed.

“I’m really close to my family. They need me.”

“And?”

“I’m comfortable around people. I’m enjoying hanging out with you right now, for instance—”

“Thank you.”

“—but I’m an introvert at heart. I like being on my own, just me and my animals and my paintbrushes.”

“I’m not buying it. Don’t you ever miss having a man in your life?”

“Occasionally.” Lyndie had lonely days. She had moments, lying in her bed unable to sleep, when she pined for someone to love who’d love her in return. But for the most part, she’d learned to roll with her bouts of sadness.