Our Sweet Destiny (Sweet with Heat Page 7

  He wanted to talk to her about what happened between them, clear the air, but after saying her name, he felt a rush of adrenaline, an overwhelming urge to take her in his arms and apologize, throw caution to the wind and stand up for whatever might be. He could take the heat. He would do just about anything for her.

  “You were right,” Jade said. “What happened was a mistake, and it should never happen again.”

  The air expelled from his lungs, like he’d been punched in the gut. A mistake? A mistake. Isn’t that what he’d told her, after all? Just being this close to her made his heart beat a little harder. He didn’t need to sleep with her. He just wanted to be with her, to get to know her better. A mistake? He couldn’t be with her anyway. It was a pipe dream, a fantasy. He had all the intimate time he’d ever get with the woman he’d pined for year after year, and if that was all he was going to get, then it was better than nothing, even if it wasn’t near enough.

  “I’m glad you understand.” The lie tasted like acid, like it was burning a hole through him even as it came off his tongue.

  “I do.” She nodded. “Our fathers…they’d never be okay with”—she ran her finger in a line between them—“this.”

  He wanted to take her hand and pull her to him, just to feel her heart beat against his.

  “Right.” He looked away to hide the sadness that he knew was written all over his face. He’d never been able to hide his feelings well, and the emotions he was riding were coming in powerful, evident gusts.

  “What’d you get at the feed store?” she asked.

  He looked down at the bag. He’d forgotten he even had it in his arms. “Molasses cookies.” His voice sounded like all the energy had been sucked from it, and he noticed Jade’s eyes shoot up at his. He cleared his throat, then said, “I come by and get sweet feed and molasses cookies for my mom’s horse.”

  She nodded, still holding his gaze. “Horses love both those things.”

  How could she be so calm and cool about this while his heart was being torn to shreds right in his chest?

  “Is it an older horse?”

  “Huh?”

  “Your mom’s horse. Is it an older horse?”

  “Oh yeah. Hope’s getting up there, slowing down a bit.” He watched the way her eyes danced when they talked about the horse, and it almost made him wish he were a horse, too.

  “Hope, that’s a nice name. Is she eating enough? Have you noticed weight loss? Is she turning her head toward her flank a lot? Getting regular exercise?”

  “I almost forgot you were a vet,” he said in response to her pointed questions. “She slowed down a little this past year, but she’s a strong, healthy horse. Hope’s the horse I was riding that morning at the ravine.” The ravine. That’s when it all started. He smiled at the memory of her picking up that heavy rock and tossing it into the water. It seemed like they’d been on one hundred dates since then, though they hadn’t been on any. “My father’s entering her in the open event at the show.”

  “That can be really stressful for a horse who isn’t doing well,” Jade said.

  “I know. He knows that, but he said our mom would have wanted it. He doesn’t care if she wins or loses. He just…” How could he tell her that his father still talked to his dead mother? How could he not? “He said Mom would have wanted her to compete again.” He shrugged.

  She smiled. “I guess he would know. I mean, he knew your mom best, after all.”

  “True.” The small talk was killing him.

  “Still, have you tried any massage? It can alleviate depression and also help with energy.”

  “Depression?” She reminded him of his mother, the way she spoke of animals like humans. His pulse spiked, and he pushed away the desire to explore her thoughts further and see if she had more ideas that were similar to his mother’s. “It’s a horse, not a person.”

  She sighed. “Funny, I didn’t take you as the kind of person who defined a line between which species had feelings and which ones didn’t.” She took a step backward.

  “I didn’t mean that.” Great. Now I’ve screwed up again.

  “I guess taking care of feelings isn’t your strong point.” The muscles in her thighs tensed, and she took another step backward. “I gotta go. Good luck with Hope.”

  Chapter Twelve

  JADE LEFT A message on Riley’s voicemail just as she pulled up to her client’s barn. “It’s me. I just wanted you to know that you have officially been knocked out of Queen Gossip of Weston status. Remember what Jennifer Aniston said about Brad Pitt missing a sensitivity chip? Well, guess what? Now hot cowboy can keep Brad company in that department. Gotta run. I still love ya, but you owe me.”

  Jade was still chewing on Rex’s disregard for Hope’s emotions when she stepped from her car. Before walking into the Schafers’ barn, she took a minute to calm herself down. She couldn’t very well help heal a horse’s emotional or mental imbalance if she was tied in knots. She leaned against the side of the truck, took a few slow, deep breaths and blew them out slowly. She had to put Rex Braden out of her mind. Completely. That was the only way to move forward. Sex is sex. Anyone can make you feel good. Not that good.

  “Jade?” Patti Schafer waved as she came down from the house.

  “Hi.”

  “I heard that you’re volunteering at the show. That should be fun this year.” Patti was Jade’s height and round as a basketball. Her jeans rode up high above her waist, and the short-sleeve shirt she wore pulled across her ample bosom. Each button looked as though it might pop with her next deep breath.

  “Yeah, I’m looking forward to it.” If you call not being able to breathe for six hours while I avoid Rex fun.

  “My niece Hannah is showing Hal Braden’s horse in the open class. She’s so excited. You know how little girls are about getting all dolled up.”

  Just the mention of a Braden sent her heart aflutter. This was not good. She needed to get her mind off of Rex Braden, not on him. Or under him.

  “How’s Berle doing?” A quick diversion of subjects would help. Patti had named her horse after Milton Berle, and Jade knew better than to question a pet’s name. It was like questioning a child’s name. Something she just didn’t do.

  “He’s doing well. He hasn’t had any more issues since you cleared up the colic, and I think the massages are helping. He’s eating well, but still just a little…off.” Patti had gone to school with Jade’s mother, and she was one of the most caring animal owners Jade knew. As soon as Jade had moved back to Colorado, Patti had called and asked her to take over Berle’s care. She had been using a veterinary practice outside of Weston that her family had used for generations, but when the vet she trusted retired, she hadn’t felt like the new vet connected with her horses. Jade had wondered why she didn’t ask Dr. Baker, the town veterinarian, to care for her horses, and her answer was just what she’d expected; he didn’t do any hands-on work with the horses. He’d been practicing veterinary medicine for forty years and he believed massage was “hooey,” though Dr. Baker and Jade got along just fine. She respected his practice, and he respected her efforts as well. Even if he didn’t believe in her holistic approach, he never disrespected her abilities.

  “Well, let’s see if we can’t fix him right up.”

  The barn was quiet and cool. Berle stood in the center aisle, secured to the stall by his lead. He was a sweet-natured, handsome, chestnut quarter horse gelding with a flaxen mane and tail. He lifted his nose as Jade approached. She stroked the side of his strong jaw.

  “Hey, Berle. How’s my boy today?” When Jade was around horses, everything else fell away. All she thought about as she looked into Berle’s trusting eyes was making him feel better. Luckily, Patti was completely in tune with her animals, and she’d noticed a change in Berle’s behavior right away. They were able to diagnose and treat the early stages of colic before it became too difficult to manage, and now Jade was providing post-colic comfort. Jade believed that no pain—in human or a
nimal—could occur without affecting their mental and emotional state in some way. She knew Berle’s being “off” could be caused by something as simple as needing a Chi adjustment. Jade was used to hearing snide comments, such as the one Rex made, about animals and their emotions, but that didn’t make those comments any easier to swallow. Luckily, Patti had not only been receptive, but excited about the idea of helping her horse to heal.

  “I hear you’re feeling a little off.” She stroked his side gently. “We’re going to help you feel better today.” She put her hands on him, fingers stretched wide, and felt the rhythm of his breathing. She was most comfortable when she knew the natural rhythm of the horse she was working on, and by taking a few minutes to connect with them, she and the horse were more relaxed.

  She used the fingers on each hand as she stroked and pressed along his meridian. Although she would concentrate on the area around his stifle, the complex joint in the horse’s hind leg, she massaged along the entire stomach meridian to encourage the elements of stomach and earth to balance. She began with the junction of the two prominent veins that ran just below his eye, which were dilated and pressing through the surface of the skin, indicating Berle’s relaxed state. From there, she moved up his jaw and down his neck, taking her time to stroke him gently, feeling for gritty or spongy muscles or changes in temperature beneath her fingers. She moved gently to the underside, behind his left front leg, then used the palm of her hand as she moved across the meridian line of his ribs and along the lower outside of his belly.

  She took a deep inhalation as she moved toward his stifle joint. The smell of fresh hay filled her senses, centering her once again. She could find point thirty-six on the stomach meridian in her sleep. Some people called it the “probiotic point” due to its immediate soothing effect when a horse had digestive issues. As she faced Berle’s head, she closed her eyes and slid her palm on his stifle, cupped it, and her thumb fell naturally into a groove in the bone just below the head of his tibia.

  After giving a massage treatment, Jade’s mind and body often remained in a place of peacefulness. Her body became just as relaxed as the animal’s, and though her muscles might be tired, she barely felt the discomfort. Instead, she focused on the ease of her breathing and the soothing calm that warmed her.

  As she climbed into her car and headed toward home, she allowed her mind to drift to Rex. Once again, she wondered what he might be like if he was soothed by touch—not hormone-driven, sexual touch, but quelling, tranquil touch.

  She slowed down as she passed the Braden ranch, wondering if losing his mother at such a young age meant that he was touched, held, and comforted less. She knew enough about the Bradens to know their father loved them all and would do anything for them. Anyone in Weston knew that. But had they been adequately touched? Had their father rubbed their backs when they were ill or lain with them and brushed their hair away from their foreheads when they were sad?

  The sun dipped from the sky, and in the late-afternoon haze, the ranch had a serene feel. The fields of grass blew in the breeze, and she couldn’t help but slow almost to a crawl when Rex came into view, riding Hope. He was looking into the distance, his Stetson moving up and down against the gray-blue sky as they trotted along. Her heart whispered a longing, and when Hope turned toward the road, it took her a minute or two before she realized that she was staring. She drove away thinking about Rex’s muscles beneath her hands as she massaged the harsh exterior away, revealing whatever vulnerabilities lay beneath.

  The minute she pulled into her driveway, all thoughts of Rex fell away, replaced with the reminder of her family possibly losing their farm. She felt a dip in the pit of her stomach. She owed too much in school loans to help them financially, but maybe there was another way. If she could mend that fence between Hal Braden and her father…just maybe…

  Chapter Thirteen

  EARLY SUNDAY MORNING, after another cold shower and another fitful night’s sleep, Rex mounted Hope for her predawn exercise. Even with his thick flannel shirt and his Stetson trapping in the heat on his pate, he still felt a chill as Hope walked out of the barn and into the yard. He let her lead the way today and assumed she’d head toward the back trail, but instead Hope rounded the barn toward the trail that headed east. His father’s gruff voice caught him by surprise. He knew his father wasn’t on the phone—he didn’t carry a cell phone, and Rex couldn’t remember the last time he’d been up that early.

  He found his father, also clad in a flannel shirt, hat, and jeans, sitting on the dewy grass by a water barrel behind the barn. His head was bowed, his arms stretched over his knees, and his left hand was grasping his right fist, releasing, then grabbing it again. Rex drew his brows together.

  “Dad?”

  Hal turned his head, and Rex dismounted at the sight of strain on his father’s face. Deep lines crossed his leathery skin.

  “Dad, what is it? Is it your heart?”

  While Savannah and some of his other siblings had written off his father’s supposed conversations with his mother, Rex lived night and day at his father’s ranch, and he wasn’t so sure. Having heard his father talking to seemingly no one too many times to count, some of those times ending with him teary eyed, Rex wasn’t as quick to disbelieve. The look on his father’s face had Rex reliving the painful few days he’d spent in the hospital and the troubled look he’d had in the hours before.

  “No, it isn’t my heart,” Hal snapped.

  Rex looked around the empty acreage. “Who are you talking to?”

  “Who do you think I’m talking to?”

  “Mom.” He didn’t mean to sound like he was simply relenting to a stupid question, but he wasn’t quite sure what to make of the situation.

  “Of course it’s Adriana. Who else would it be? She’s giving me fits, all upset about something.” He pushed to his feet and grumbled.

  Rex smiled. Even when his father was complaining about her, the love in his eyes still blazed. It occurred to him then that he had much the same feelings about Jade. Her mouthiness drove him batty, but in a way that also drove a stake right through his heart.

  “Want me to skip Hope’s ride? Remember what happened last time you got all worked up.” Rex had more respect for his father than any other man alive. He’d taught Rex to be a man, to stand up for his family, and the value of loyalty and honor, the principles Rex held in the highest regard. There was no denying, though, that his father had a softer side. He saw it every time he interacted with Savannah, every time one of his children had trouble and needed help. As he stood beside the man who meant the world to him, he wished he could confide in him about Jade. If she had been any other woman, from any other family, his father would have wrapped her in his arms and welcomed her without even knowing a thing about her. If one of his children fell in love, he loved right alongside them. He’d proven that with Max the first day she pulled into their driveway. His father had taken her under his wing and swept her into the family fold—and Treat hadn’t even been home.

  He contemplated telling him now. Dad, I gotta talk to you about someone. It’s Jade, Dad, Jade Johnson. He imagined his father’s likely response. Son, you know better than to bring that no-good family’s name onto our property. On the heels of Jade’s desire to just be friends, there was no point in getting him even more riled up.

  “I’m fine, Rex. Hope needs you. Take the old girl out. I’m not staying out here anyway. I’m going back to bed.” He turned to look into Hope’s empty stall and shook his head. “That mother of yours is something else.”

  Rex watched his father saunter away. At times like these, he wanted to believe his father was still in contact with his mother. In fact, he felt a stab of jealousy at the idea.

  THE WIDE TRAIL to the east of the ranch wound deep into the woods, parallel to the road. The woods provided a buffer from the pavement, but during the afternoon and evening, the bustle of trucks and horse trailers carried in the wind. In the predawn hours of Rex’s Sunday ride, the air c
arried only the sounds of scurrying on the forest floor and the rustling of leaves in the gentle wind. He was glad for the silence, though the farther Hope drew him away from the ranch, the nearer they were to the Johnson ranch, which caused his heart to beat a little faster. Rex worked hard not to translate that racing pulse into a spurring of gait. He wanted to prolong his Sunday-morning ride, not shorten it. He controlled the adrenaline rush by gripping the leather reins a little tighter and clenching his jaw against the thoughts that were causing his stomach to tighten.

  Hope plodded along. She was comfortable on all of the trails around the ranch. She’d been riding them for more than twenty years; she should be comfortable on them. But today it was Rex who was uncomfortable as they neared the breach of the trail where it feathered out into a wide-open field bordering the Johnson property. He laid the reins against Hope’s neck, guiding her toward the road. She remained steadfast in her pace and direction, heading straight for the Johnson driveway.

  Rex tugged harder, gave her a tap with his booted heel, and still she worked against him. The harder he urged, the more she pulled her head in the other direction. Stubborn old girl. Given that Hope had never been a temperamental horse and that behavioral changes in horses often reflected distress, Rex paid extra attention to her. He leaned forward and ran his hands down her neck.

  “It’s okay, Hope. You’re doing fine. I’ll follow your lead just as long as you don’t move down their property and get Mr. Johnson all riled up.”

  Hope neighed, moving her head up and down in an exaggerated fashion.

  “Alrighty. You lead. I’ll ride,” Rex said with a smile. Hope had a hold on his heart like Savannah and his brothers did. Everything about Hope reminded him of his mother, from her sweet demeanor to her graceful beauty. And now, he realized, her stubbornness, too.

  The grass gave way to gravel as they reached the edge of the Johnson driveway, and Rex held his breath as they crossed. Their modest brick rambler was built in the center of their property. It was much smaller than the Braden’s sprawling home and built closer to the road. The house was dark, and Rex wondered if Jade was still asleep and if she dreamed of him as often as he did of her.