The Black Sheep and the Hidden Beauty (17 page)

He looked at her, then noticed the tiniest of twitches at the corner of her mouth.

“I just don't know how else to go about proving to you that my intentions are good, here.”

“I'm guessing the people you normally help, or try to, don't put up as much resistance.”

“Sometimes they do. If they've been through something that has taught them that trusting only leads to more bad things happening.”

“Is that a veiled hint?”

Now he smiled a little. “Maybe.”

The twitch smoothed, and her sigh was a heavy one. “Listen, I appreciate…everything you just said. And your persistence is nothing short of—”

“Admirable?”

“I was going to say Chinese water torture, but in the interest of having to spend a four-hour round-trip with you, we can go with admirable.”

“So this is where you say thanks, but no thanks. Again.”

She offered him a brief smile of condolence. “I am grateful for the repeated offer, I really am. I'm sorry my reactions to things earlier today led you to believe I'm in some sort of serious trouble.”

“At least do me the courtesy of not insulting my intelligence.”

“Fine. Things might be a little complicated, but up to now, you've done nothing but complicate my life further. On a couple of different levels.”

“I apologized for the inadvertent attention I brought your way, but I'm not apologizing for the rest.”

“I didn't ask for an apology, did I?”

That caught him off guard. He settled back in his seat, frustrated and annoyed and turned on and…a whole lot of complicated things he didn't want to be. “I'll promise you one thing,” he said.

“What is that?”

“If you won't let me help, I'll back off.”

She glanced over at him, clearly skeptical. “No more digging? No more phone calls checking up on me?”

He didn't respond to that. He wasn't going to lie to her. “But you have to promise me—if something happens to make you think that Dalton Downs or anyone who lives or works there is in any kind of jeopardy—”

“Already done,” she said quietly. “You didn't have to ask that.”

“No insult intended.” He reached out and touched her arm, so she looked over at him. “One more thing. If you find yourself changing your mind about needing help, I'd like to think I'd be the first person you'd come to.”

She held his gaze for a fraction of a second longer, then dipped her chin in a quick, silent agreement, before turning her attention back to the road.

He accepted that, settled back in his seat, and let the subject drop. At least for the time being. Another dozen or so miles had passed before he put together what she'd just said.
Already done.
Meaning there had been a perceived threat and she'd already taken care of it?

The only thing she'd done was to move her horse.

He let the ride go on in silence as he decided how best to broach that subject again. “So, how has Springer been doing otherwise?” he asked, at length. “Has this pregnancy gone better than last time?”

“Yes, it has, but she's been in far more peaceful surroundings.”

“So you think the move up here to Middleburg was the right thing to do, then.”

“Most definitely.”

“Can I ask…where does Kenny fit into all of this? With you?”

She shot him a look of surprise. “You don't mean is he
with me
, with me, do you? Because, first, you know he's old enough to be my father. And secondly, I'd have definitely never done what we did earlier, if—”

“I'm asking where Kenny fits into your new life versus your old life. Do you keep in touch with people from the world of racing?”

This time she kept her eyes glued to the road, but from what he could see of her expression, the wariness was back in full force. “I came here to get away from the hoopla so my horse could gestate in peace. And to consider what I want to do next with my career. I was already planning to leave Charlotte Oaks before…everything. But once all that happened, yes, it made the decision even easier. It was a really stressful time, so when I got confirmation that Springer was pregnant, it just seemed like the right time to step back, and out—for a little bit, anyway.”

“And being gone for almost a year, don't you think that will hurt your career?”

“Possibly. It's a setback, to be certain, but I didn't burn any bridges.”

“So you still have contacts from your time at Charlotte Oaks, then?”

“You already asked me that.” She looked over at him. “This is starting to feel like digging again.”

“If I'm digging, it's just to get to know you. You don't want my help, fine. But I'm admittedly attracted to you, and I think there's some mutual interest there. I just want to get to know you better.”

She studied him for a moment, then turned back to look at the road ahead. “Yes,” she said, at length. “I keep in touch with some people.”

“Like Kenny.”

“Kenny is one of the better equine vets around. He runs his own operation as well as a top-notch equine medical facility about halfway between here and Charlottesville. He was a good friend of my father. I've known him most of my life.”

“Ah.”

She swatted at his arm, surprising a laugh out of him. “What was that for?”

“That smug, masculine, ‘ah.' Yes, Kenny is family to me. Nothing more. Your ego feel better now? Less threatened?”

He folded his arms, grinned unapologetically. “As a matter of fact, yes.”

Her mouth dropped open, then shut again. “Men.”

“Thank goodness, right?”

She remained silent on that one.

Still smiling a little, he asked, “Why not take Springer to Kenny and stay there from the beginning, when you found out she was pregnant?”

“He wasn't looking to hire at the time, and I'm not looking for a handout.”

“And now?”

“Meaning, how am I going to pay for his services? He knows what's going on with Springer and was a bit insulted that I took the job with Kate and didn't even approach him about any of it. He's like family, and he considers me the same. It's why he showed up at Dalton Downs a few weeks ago. He's kept in touch all through her gestation and when things started to go south tonight, I called him. He wouldn't take no for an answer on me bringing her to him for the remainder of her time. To be honest, I didn't fight him too hard this time around. Pride is a fool's conceit when someone you love is in jeopardy.”

“Pithy.”

“Truth.” A mile or two passed, and she looked over at him. “I do know when to ask for help.”

“So it seems.” They fell into a more comfortable silence for a short while, then he finally said, “Is that the only reason you're moving Springer away from Dalton Downs?”

She didn't so much as blink, but she didn't look at him, either. Nor did she say anything.

His tone quiet, just loud enough to be heard over the rumble of the engine and the road noise of the big truck tires, he said, “When I asked earlier, that you keep any problems from your past separate and away from the folks at Dalton Downs, you said you'd already done that. Were you talking about this trip tonight? Or…”

She was quiet for so long, he didn't think she was going to answer. He'd insulted her more than once tonight, not intending to, but at the moment he was more concerned with finding a way past the sturdy walls she'd erected. If he happened to piss her off again trying, then so be it. Ultimately he was more concerned about figuring out what was going on and, if possible, doing something to fix it, than he was about whether she'd still like him when all was said and done. He cared enough at this point, though God knew why, when she was such a contrary thing. He was more concerned with her being okay than with whether he got what he wanted out of this.

Which begged the question…what
did
he want out of this? He was still pondering the rather surprising answer to that, when she interrupted his thoughts.

“I moved Springer for Springer's sake,” she said, then paused, then ultimately fell silent again.

“The phone call today—”

She gave an impatient sigh, but he noted her hands tightened on the wheel until her knuckles turned white. “You're like a broken record. Change of subject.”

“I was just going to ask where you left things today. Do you have to go back to Charlottesville to answer some more questions?” Then another piece fell into place. “Or is someone coming out to Dalton Downs to save you the trip?”
And was it better all the way around if your horse wasn't about when he or she did?

And if Rafe was on the right track…what did her horse have to do with all of this?

“I have no idea what happens next. They know where to contact me if they want me. Right now my focus is on making sure Springer is healthy and stays that way, that her baby is all right, and also stays that way. And I still have a job to do.” She shot him a look. “That is, unless you think otherwise?”

“I'm trying to help you, not get you fired.
Was
trying to help you,” he reiterated. “I'm interested in you, regardless. My wanting to know you better isn't going to change whether I help you or not.”

“Okay, if this is about getting to know one another, then tag. You're it. Your turn to talk about your past, your life.”

Shit
. “I'm not all that interesting.”

She laughed. “Right. You're the most frustrating, irritating, persistent, intriguing, complex man. What you're not is boring. I can't imagine that the life that led you from a tough existence with a single mom to where you are now, happened all smooth and ripple-free.”

“How did this get to be about me?”

“Fair play. You want this to be about us? Us is two people, not just one badgering the other.”

“I wasn't badgering, I was—”

“Pretending to get to know me so you could keep digging. Pit bulls are less determined than you.”

He sat back in his seat, turning his attention ahead toward the road.

He heard the smile in her voice when she spoke. “Not so much fun when the shoe is on the other foot now, is it?”

“Ask me anything you like. Just be prepared to yawn. Which, considering the late hour and the long drive, is probably dangerous to your health. And mine.”

“I'll take my chances.”

“Now who's the pit bull?” he grumbled. This wasn't going at all like he'd planned. But then, he'd never planned on anyone like Elena Caulfield.

“So, tell me the story of you,” she said, with more enthusiasm than he'd heard all night.

“I spend most of my time working.”

“Okay, so tell me more about the work you do. I know you said you help people who aren't always in a position to help themselves, but how did all that come about? How did you three go from summer camp hellions to Trinity, Inc., helpers of the downtrodden?”

Rafe sighed, but knew it was only fair. If he wanted her to open up to him, maybe opening up to her was the way to earn her trust. “We spent summers together at a camp in upstate New York and stayed close during the years afterward.”

“Have you been working together since you became adults?”

“No. We kept in touch, but we had our own paths initially. We're about as different from one another as you can get. Finn was, of course, born and raised on Dalton Downs, one of the silver-spoon set, though he never acted like it, much to the chagrin of his father. Mac was the son of the camp handyman, who also happened to be an alcoholic and not the nicest guy in the world.”

“And you? I know you said your mom was a maid and you lived in the city—”

“I grew up in the Bronx. I went to camp as a charity case. My mother's employer sent me every summer.”

“Generous of him.”

“No, he did it because it allowed her to keep working for him while I wasn't in school. And it made him look like a good guy.”

“He wasn't?”

“Can't say I agreed with his business practices, but he gave my mom steady employment, which kept food on our table, so I can hardly complain. But the moment I was able to, I got her away from that.”

“She raised a good guy, then. Where did you all end up?”

“Mac was a cop in New York, a detective, then later worked high-end surveillance in the private sector. He has a knack for all things mechanical. The only decent thing he got from his dad. Finn was a lawyer, working for the district attorney's office, until his dad passed and he took over here.”

“And you?”

“I put myself through business school, then took some classes in computer science.”