Thoroughbreds and Trailer Trash (38 page)
Read Thoroughbreds and Trailer Trash Online
Authors: Bev Pettersen
“What are you doing in LA, Jenna?”
Okay, so maybe he hadn’t known she was here. Her hope spiked. Maybe he’d have seen her if Donna had even bothered to give a proper message. “You mean in LA or this office?” she asked.
His phone buzzed and he picked it up. “It’s all right, Donna. Low threat. It’s just a...” his gaze flickered over Jenna, “an ex-employee.” He pressed a button and leaned back in his chair. “You seem to have a proclivity for breaking into offices.” He scowled at the cart and its stack of assorted envelopes. “You do realize mail theft is a federal offense?”
The brick in her throat made it tough to breathe. This wasn’t going at all the way she’d expected, or hoped. She didn’t even know what ‘proclivity’ meant but from the disapproving look on his face, it wasn’t anything very good.
“What do you want?” he added, picking up a gold pen and returning his attention to a legal-sized notepad.
Words balled in her throat. She’d naively thought he’d be thrilled to see her. Had hoped he’d sweep her into his arms, making talking unnecessary. She edged a step closer to his desk, keeping a grip on the cart, needing it to prop up her shaky legs.
“I miss you,” she said. “And you left so quickly, we didn’t really sort things out.”
“The scholarship, Wally, the new barn, my—” He shook his head in disgust, uncoiling so forcefully his chair slammed against the wall.
Bump
!
Something beeped.
“Security’s on the way,” he said tonelessly. “Can’t stop them. We’re on an alert because of some labor unrest.” He tossed a wad of bills on the desk, turned and stared out the spotless window. “I don’t want you to have any hardship, but I don’t want to hear from you again. Take the money and go.”
“But I m-miss you and I wanted to thank you personally.”
“No thanks are necessary. Just go, Jenna.”
He didn’t turn around, but his shoulders were stiff and unrelenting. He wouldn’t even look at her—Burke—who always faced everything head on. He must really despise her. The realization was staggering. She pried her fingers from the cart and fumbled for the door, shoving it open through a blur of tears.
All this way. She’d come all this way to tell him she loved him and couldn’t even get close.
Get close
, Em had said.
She paused, pulled the door shut and turned back. If not for the abrupt slump of his proud shoulders, she doubted she’d have summoned the nerve.
She slipped around the massive desk and wrapped her arms around his waist. It was hard to press her head against his chest, not with his arms crossed over them like steel protectors. But she tried anyway. “I can’t just leave,” she whispered brokenly. “You see, we Murphy women have a big problem. Once we love someone, it’s forever. And I wanted to tell you that. And I’m sorry for sneaking into your office. Sorry about all my other…proclivities. And for lying about my education. I’m sorry. I’ll go now, but I’ll always love you.”
He moved then, quick as a panther. One arm banded around her. The other tilted her face, his dark eyes almost frantic. “Pardon?”
“I’m sorry.” She gulped. “And I love you.”
His hand flattened over the back of her head, knocking off her cap as he pressed her into his thudding heart, his mouth moving over her hair, her face, her neck, moving as if he couldn’t get enough.
“Even though I hit you?” he finally asked, his voice ragged. “You flinched in the hospital. Wanted me gone.” He tilted her chin, scanned her face, his throat jerking convulsively. “I’m no better than your father.”
She shook her head and tried to press back into his chest but he kept his hand on her jaw, still staring intently at her face. “You’re saying, I hope, that we can see each other more than once a year?”
“I want to see you every minute of the day,” she said. “It just took a while to admit—”
His mouth lowered over hers in a hungry kiss, and it was impossible to talk and cry and kiss at the same time, but the kissing prevailed. He always was a wonderful kisser but this was different—hard, frantic, sweet.
The door burst open. Two men edged in, with white shirts, flat expressions and hands tucked beneath their blazers. Burke raised his head, arms tightening as he edged her behind his back. “False alarm, gentlemen,” he said. “And I’d really like to be alone now.”
But the taller man floated to the right of the bulky mail cart and the other cut to the left, both straining to see Jenna. Christ, they had guns—she could see them now. Her eyes widened.
“She’s not a threat,” Burke said quickly. “My…fiancée likes to role play.”
She smiled, no longer caring about the guards, and pressed a big kiss on his mouth. The twitch of his lip made her grin. And of course, the word fiancée.
“Excuse me, sir,” the tall man said.
Burke dragged his mouth off Jenna. “What,” he muttered, his hot gaze holding hers, full of so much tenderness she couldn’t stop grinning.
The guard to the left gave a nervous cough. “We need to hear the password, sir.”
“Peanut,” Burke said, still looking at Jenna.
Feet shuffled. The door closed.
“Peanut? I thought you were trying to forget us?” she asked.
“I was trying. God, I was trying so hard. Please don’t freeze me out again, sweetheart.”
“Technically it was you who left.” She tugged his shirt up, slipping her hands over the warm skin on his back, needing to get close. “And I was the one who had to fly across the country, break into this hostile office and plead my case.”
“You didn’t bring Wally then?” He snagged her right hand, clearly distracted, his face softening with relief at its healthy appearance. “You flew here by yourself?”
“Actually it was Emily who encouraged me to come. She even sold her cherished wardrobe to raise enough money.”
“For which she has my eternal thanks.” He paused. “Can she do something else? Can she take care of the pony for another week? Then we’ll fly home and figure out where to live.”
Home
. She blinked, her smile widening. “Really? I thought you might have to stay here—and I can do that—but you can live in Stillwater? I can still go to college?”
He pressed her back into his chest. “We’re not giving up your porch, Jen. But I’d like to haul away the trailer. Build something bigger. That view was one of the reasons I fell in love with you. That and your butterfly tattoo.”
He slid his hands beneath her shirt, proceeding to show some of the many other things he loved.
Chirp
. His hand on her breast muddled her hearing, but she was pretty sure her phone was ringing.
Chirp, chirp
.
“I better get it,” she said, her voice husky.
“Let me answer. Wally won’t talk so long to me.” But he smiled as he tugged the phone from her pocket. “Burke,” he said.
Jenna opened two buttons on his shirt. Pressed her mouth against his skin, listened to his heartbeat, the deep rumble of his voice, knowing she was much too happy to talk anyway.
Oh, God. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you
. She felt like leaping and squealing and leaping some more.
“She’s a little busy right now,” Burke said, but his voice softened. He even sounded amused.
Not Wally then. Must be Em. She released a few more buttons, sliding her fingers over his chest, relearning his hard contours. Of course, she wanted to talk to her dear sister but not at this precise moment. Right now, she only wanted to get closer to the man she loved.
Be nice if he’d finish talking though. He sounded deep in negotiations. She waited another polite minute then gave his chest an impatient nip.
“All right. Red it is.” He ended the call and tossed her phone on the desk. “Your sister will look after Peanut for as long as we want. And I think I just bought her a sports car.”
“No!” Jenna’s eyes widened. “You have to watch her.”
“Not a problem. Today I would have bought her a small island.” His mouth curved in an indulgent smile. “Because I happen to be in an exceptionally good mood, a very generous mood.”
“I see.” She tilted her head, pondering for a moment, but Emily was fine, Wally was fine, as were Peanut, Frances, even Stillwater itself. Everything was fine. Amazingly there wasn’t a single thing to worry about.
Somehow, somewhere, benevolent forces had combined to make everything in her world align. It was almost too good to be true. Best of all, this wonderful man loved her. Knew her and loved her, in spite of her faults.
She gazed into his tender eyes, eyes that were oddly damp, and sucked in a shaky breath, abruptly overwhelmed with emotion. “I’m just so grateful. So h-happy.”
“So am I, sweetheart,” he said softly. “So am I.”
***
OTHER BOOKS BY BEV PETTERSEN:
Jockeys and Jewels
Color My Horse
Fillies and Females
Racetrack Romance Box Set (Books 1 – 3)
Horses and Heroin (Coming Fall, 2012)
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
To Jessica McLoughlin, equine massage therapist, who answered all my questions and took such good care of Nifty.
To Lauren Tutty and her dad, Briar, who found a stall for Penny and helped a horsecrazy girl’s dreams come true.
To Brenna Pettersen who cheerfully and patiently answers every trumpet call, whether it’s to brainstorm, proofread or travel to the track.
And a very special thanks to Sally Goswell, Bruce Jackson, Kathee Rengert and all the helpful folk at the Fair Hill Training Center, truly horse heaven!
About The Author
Bev Pettersen is an award-winning writer and two-time finalist in the Romance Writers of America’s Golden Heart® Contest. She competed for five years on the Alberta Thoroughbred race circuit and is an Equine Canada certified coach. Presently, she lives in Nova Scotia with her husband and two teenagers. When she’s not writing novels, she’s riding. Visit her at
http://www.bevpettersen.com
Author’s Note
I hope you enjoyed reading Thoroughbreds and Trailer Trash. If so, would you help others enjoy it as well? Lend it (this book is lending enabled so you can share it with a friend), recommend it, or review it. Sincere thanks! - Bev
Other Books by Bev Petterson
Jockeys and Jewels
Amazon Kindle Store
Color My Horse
Amazon Kindle Store
Fillies and Females
Amazon Kindle Store
Racetrack Romance Box Set
Amazon Kindle Store
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