Читать книгу The Fake Husband - Lynnette Kent - Страница 8
CHAPTER TWO
ОглавлениеJACQUIE’S EYES WIDENED, and Rhys heard his own words with horror. In front of his son and his best friend, he stood on the brink of revealing a secret he’d kept from everyone in his life, except this one woman.
But how the hell was he supposed to remain calm when the missing piece in his existence had just reappeared after a fourteen-year absence?
He took a deep breath, fighting for control. Under his hands, Jacquie moved her shoulders, and he realized how tight his grip was.
“Sorry.” He released her and took a step back. “I’m…surprised…to see you. I had no idea you lived in this area.”
“Yes, I—I came back home. When I left New York.” She avoided his eyes, looking past his shoulder to where Andrew and Terry stood with Imperator. “Is this your champion?” She walked to the horse, stood close enough to let Imp get her scent. “He surely is gorgeous. Which shoe does he need?”
Business, Rhys reminded himself. She’s here on business. She’s the damn farrier.
“Right fore,” Terry supplied. “Good to see you, Jacquie. You were quite the rider when you were with us. Thought you’d go all the way.”
She smiled at him and shook her head. “I decided to pursue a more dependable income. But farrier work doesn’t always give you access to the great horses like this one.” When she extended her hand, Imperator allowed her to stroke his face—not a privilege he offered to many people. “You’re a big beauty, aren’t you?” Jacquie crooned. “I’ll bet it’s like riding the wind, being on your back.”
Rhys watched her commune with the horse, earning Imp’s trust in the way she’d always had with animals. They trusted her and, in turn, performed for her, meeting her demands with as much talent as they could command. He’d been harder on her than any of his other students, simply because she was so damn good.
Or maybe because he’d fallen in love with her the first time he saw her smile.
“Okay,” she said, turning from the horse to the bed of her truck. “Do you want me to trim him, or just replace the shoe?”
“Does he need a trim?” Rhys asked, knowing the answer perfectly well.
Jacquie eyed Imp’s hooves from a distance. Then she approached the horse, talking to him softly, running her hands over his shoulders to his chest and down his forelegs, picking up each in turn. Imp was usually a handful for any kind of examination, but he stood quiet for Jacquie, of course. He gave her a little more trouble about the rear legs, but she talked him through it and managed to look at each hoof closely.
When she came back to the truck, she glanced at Rhys and cocked her head. “As you no doubt know, he’s been trimmed within the last three weeks and doesn’t need it now. Do you have the shoe he pulled off?”
He grinned at her, relieved that she’d passed his test. “No, it’s somewhere on the lane between here and the highway.”
Tying on her farrier’s leather chaps, she didn’t grin back. “What were you doing riding on the road?”
“Long story.”
“Here to the highway is a long ride.”
“That, too.” He held her gaze for a moment, felt the shock as awareness kicked in, bringing with it memories he’d worked for years to bury.
Judging by the way her face froze, so had Jacquie. She jerked her head back and forth, a very definite rejection, and turned her back to him. “I’ve got the shoe he needs.”
Fast and efficient, she shaped the shoe on her anvil and fit it perfectly to Imperator’s hoof, then nailed it with a minimum of fuss and filed the ends off the nails. “I checked the other shoes,” she said, straightening up from her farrier’s crouch as easily as a child. “They look sound. You shoe him on the usual five-to-six-week schedule?
“Unless there’s a problem.”
She nodded. “Then he should be good for another three weeks, at least.”
Rhys glanced at Terry and got his nod of approval. “Glad to hear it. Andrew, bring Abner out here. Imperator can go into the paddock for a run.”
The shoeing process went as easily with the other three horses. At the end of an hour, Terry and Andrew resumed the schedule for the day as Jacquie put away her tools and took off her chaps. “If that’s all, I’ll write up a receipt.”
Leaving the door open, she climbed into the seat of her truck. On the passenger side, a black-and-white Australian shepherd sat up, panting with pleasure at having company once again.
“Nice dog,” Rhys commented, hoping he sounded more relaxed than he felt.
“We…her name is Hurry.” She didn’t look at him, or the dog.
He went around the hood of the truck and opened the passenger door to pet Hurry. “I’ve still got Sydney. Her arthritis is pretty bad, so she stays inside when it’s cold.”
The hand holding the pen faltered. “She was just a puppy.”
“Fourteen, now.” And an Australian shepherd, same as this one, which unnerved and pleased him, at the same time. “Would you like to come in and see her?” Jacquie was tempted, of that he had no doubt. And he would use any weapon he could find to reach her. “I bet she’d remember you.”
“Thanks, but I’ve got another job in a few minutes.” She handed him the receipt. “The total is one hundred dollars. My address is on there, if you’d like to mail me a check.”
“No, I’ll pay you now.” Trusting that she wouldn’t disappear while he went into the house wasn’t easy, but at least he had her address on the receipt. He could find her, this time. No private detectives, bringing back only dead ends.
On the driver’s side again, he handed her the cash. “Sure you won’t come in? We’ve got hot coffee and cold cinnamon rolls.”
“Tempting, but no thanks.” The corner of her mouth twitched, as if she wanted to grin. She tightened her fists around the steering wheel. Neither hand bore a ring or any sign she usually wore one. “So…are you here for the winter? Moving back to New York with warmer weather?”
He’d take any interest she displayed and be glad for it. “Probably not. The New England winters aren’t worth the summers anymore.” That was part of the truth, at least.
“And your family is down here with you?” Her flat tone suggested that she didn’t really care and asked only out of courtesy.
He tilted his head and gave her a bitter smile with the truth. “If you mean Terry and Andrew, yes. Olivia and I were divorced—finally, officially and forever—twelve years ago.”
“Oh.” Jacquie looked stunned for a second but recovered quickly. “Will…will you be teaching?”
“Definitely. I’ll get advertising in place soon, and I’m planning a schooling day when the weather gets warmer, just to let people know I’m here. Meanwhile, if you’ve got any clients who’d like lessons, send them my way.”
“Sure. Welcome to the neighborhood.” She said it without looking at him.
“Thanks.” Rhys decided to push her a little. “You didn’t answer my question, you know.”
“What question?”
“Why didn’t you get in touch when you left?”
“I—” For a moment, she looked cornered. “You know why. He’s mucking out stalls while we’re talking.”
The old anger grabbed him. “You didn’t even say goodbye.”
“What was the point? You were going back to your wife. I needed to clear out fast.” Her deep breath shook. “And now I’m going back to my own life. Thanks for the business. William Innes is a good farrier, next time you need somebody.” She cranked the engine, put the truck in gear and drove away—once again—without saying goodbye.
Rhys held up his receipt. “Oh, no, my dear. I’ve got a farrier already, by the name of Ms. Jacqueline Lennon.” He glanced at the paper, then did a double take. The sheet read “Ladysmith Farrier Service, Jacquie Archer, Farrier.”
“Archer? Archer? Just what the hell,” he demanded aloud, staring at the black truck now leaving his property, “does that mean?”
SINCE HIS FALL during a competition in New Zealand last November, one chore Andrew’s dad didn’t do was cleaning stalls. Most mornings, Andrew got that task all to himself, though occasionally Terry helped. Like today.
“So they knew each other before?” he asked the trainer, when he was sure his dad had gone into the house. “She was a student?”
“Yeah.” Terry dumped a forkful of dirty shavings into the bin. “One of the best he’s had. She was Olympic material if I’ve ever seen it.”
“What happened?”
“Not for me to say.” Terry pitched another load and then glared at Andrew. “And I wouldn’t ask, if I were you, boyo, unless you relish getting your nose snapped off and your ears singed.”
The old man cast a glance at the three stalls he’d cleaned to Andrew’s one. “Guess you’ve got work to do.” Hanging up his fork, he stomped out of the barn toward the house.
Andrew gave him—no, both of them—the finger while they weren’t looking, then turned back to finish Imperator’s stall. When didn’t he get yelled at around here? Whatever went wrong came down on him, like crap flowing downhill.
Privileges, now, those he had to steal. Yesterday, Terry and his dad had ridden Abner and Lucretia back to the highway to fetch the truck and trailer, leaving Andrew to keep an eye on the place. He’d kept an eye out, all right—just long enough to be sure they got out of sight. Then he’d saddled Imperator and gone for a ride.
The lady farrier was right—being on the big stallion was the absolute best. One side of Fairfield Farm bordered a horse preserve with miles of trails and acres of open ground for riding. Andrew intended to take Imp there one day soon, but to begin with he’d stayed in the pastures behind the barn, knowing his dad would literally kill him if he let Imp get even slightly injured. The horse was as crazy for freedom as Andrew, and enjoyed every second of their stolen gallop. By the time the truck and trailer pulled in at the gate, Imperator was cool and calm and back in his paddock with no evidence to suggest he’d ever been anywhere else.
Today they wouldn’t get such a break. All Andrew could do today was his job—finish the stalls, empty, clean and refill all the water buckets, and sweep the cobbled hallway of the stable. Finally certain that nobody could yell at him for something he hadn’t done—unlike yesterday, when his dad had blown up over the dirty buckets—he went to sit on the fence of the paddock where Imperator waited.
The stallion came over to investigate Andrew’s down vest and pants and shoes. “No fun today, Imp.” He combed his fingers through the thick mane. “Maybe I can sneak out tonight, after bedtime.”
But the weather had warmed up and the snow was melting—how insane was that, in January? Wet, soft ground with patches of snow and ice would make riding in the dark too dangerous. He put his forehead against the horse’s neck. “Or maybe not.”
All he wanted—in fact, all he’d asked for as a Christmas present—was to ride this horse in practice every day. He put up with his dad’s impossible demands and Terry’s grouchy moods, was willing to take lessons and submit to training like a beginning rider, though he’d been on horseback practically since the day he was born—the birthday he shared with the fantastic horse. Whatever his dad and Terry required, Andrew would agree to, if he could just make Imperator his horse.
A door slammed at the house. Imp startled and hopped away, leaving Andrew no choice but to fall forward, off the fence. He landed on his feet and was straightening up when his dad arrived at the paddock.
The great Olympic rider stopped and stared for a minute, stone-faced. “What are you doing?”
“Nothing.”
“Were you thinking about riding him again?”
“N-no.” He couldn’t help asking, “Again? What are you talking about?”
“You rode him yesterday while we were gone.”
Not a question. Shit.
“Don’t bother to lie.” His dad leaned his elbows on the top rail of the fence, his gaze following Imperator as he trotted around the paddock. “I did laundry this morning. You had his hair on the legs of your jeans.”
“I was careful. He didn’t get hurt.”
“Believe it or not, I’m thinking more of your safety than his. He’s too much for you.”
“I had him under control the whole time.”
“That’s what he allowed you to think.”
“I’m not stupid.”
“No, you’re just not experienced with top-level horses.”
Andrew managed to resist stomping his foot. “You’re the one with the experience. You’re the one who got dumped.”
His dad’s mouth tightened into a straight line, and his eyes glinted like cold steel. “Exactly. If I can be unseated, what chance has a novice rider got against a horse like Imperator? Stay off of him. Or I’ll ship you back to your grandfather.” Turning on his heel, he stalked to his office in the barn and let the door bang shut behind him.
Now that was a threat worth listening to. Compared to his grandfather, his dad looked like Captain Kangaroo.
Andrew climbed through the fence and straightened up to give Imperator one last pat over the rail.
“Nothing around here ever changes,” he told the horse. “Same shit, different day.”
ANY HOPE JACQUIE HARBORED that she would be given a respite before dealing with the problem of Rhys Lewellyn died the very night after she’d visited his farm. Her phone rang at eight-thirty and Erin answered, using the polite manners her grandmother had taught her. “May I say who’s calling?”
With a gasp, those manners vanished. “Wow, Mr. Lewellyn, it’s so cool to talk to you. My name’s Erin Archer and I’ve been a fan of yours ever since I can remember. I’ve got all sorts of pictures of you and Imperator at the Olympics. That has to be just the most awesome feeling, taking him over fences.”
Erin stopped for a moment, and Jacquie came to get the phone, but her daughter waved her off. “Yes, sir, I’ve been riding since I was little. I’m almost fourteen and I compete at third-level dressage with my Thoroughbred gelding, Mirage. We’re working on training level in cross country and show jumping so I can ride in the Top Flight Horse Trials this spring.” Another gasp. “I would love to take lessons—I was talking to my mom about that when she said she was going to shoe your horses. That is just so amazing. When can I start?”
Caught between horror and despair, Jacquie turned her back to her daughter. Her pulse pounded in her fingertips, her throat, her ears and head. Hadn’t she already paid for her mistakes? Why had retribution come twice?
“Mom?” Erin tapped her on the shoulder before she was ready. “Mr. Lewellyn wants to talk to you.”
She reached for the phone over her shoulder. “Thanks.” When Erin didn’t leave the room, Jacquie cleared her throat. “Privacy, please?” Once alone in the kitchen, she shut the door and put a chair against it to prevent unexpected reentry. “Hello?”
“Hi, Jacquie.” His voice in her ear was like a sip of sweet harvest wine, spicy and intoxicating.
Jacquie collapsed into a chair at the table. “What can I do for you, Rhys? Is there a problem with one of the shoes?”
“No, not at all. I just wanted to ask…” He paused, then cleared his throat. “I was confused, that’s all. But I guess I’ve already got the answer.”
“To which question?”
After another hesitation, he gave an uneasy laugh. “There’s no way to say this gracefully. I didn’t expect you to be married, that’s all, so I was confused by the name Archer on your receipt. But obviously, since you have such a delightful daughter, there’s a…dad…in the picture, too.”
Oh, how she wished that were true. How easy this would be if she could trot out a husband and trail him under Rhys Lewellyn’s nose.
Jacquie sighed. “I’m a widow.” Even that was a lie. But at least it was a lie everyone she knew, including Erin, believed.
“Ah.” The confidence returned to Rhys’s voice in that one syllable. “I’m sorry you lost your husband.”
“Thanks. Is there anything else I can help you with?”
“Well, it sounds like we need to set up some lessons for your daughter. She’s enthusiastic, to say the least. Is she as good as she says she is?”
A mother’s pride would not be denied. “Better. Better than I was at her age, too.”
“Definitely a student I’d enjoy. Why don’t you bring her over tomorrow and we’ll do some schooling?”
“I can’t.” No hesitation about that answer. “We have church and dinner with my family afterward.”
“Then when would be a good time?”
“I—I’ll have to call you back. My schedule’s pretty full next week. And school starts Monday.”
“Yes, I reminded Andrew of that depressing fact today. He’ll be going to New Skye High School—with Erin, I presume.”
“That’s right.” And she would not offer to carpool with them.
So, of course, Rhys did. “I would be glad to drive her to school along with Andrew. As soon as I figure out how to get there, of course.”
His rueful tone tempted her to smile, and Jacquie had the sensation of clinging by her fingernails to the edge of a crumbling cliff. “Thanks, but I like to drive her myself. We get a chance to talk.”
“Which can be a blessing, or a curse.” He was silent for a moment. “Then if you can’t come for a lesson and I can’t drive your daughter to school for you, I’ll have to go the direct route. Will you have dinner with me next week? Say, Friday night?”
He might as well have punched her in the stomach—her reaction was pretty much the same. “Why?”
“For old times’ sake?”
“Our old times aren’t something to celebrate, Rhys.”
“Why not?” He sounded genuinely confused.
“You were married, remember? What we were…what we did…was adultery.”
“Olivia and I were separated, Jacquie. More than halfway to a divorce.”
“Until you went back to her. End of story.” She was breathing as if she’d run a five-minute mile. “I have to go, Rhys. Good night.”
“Wait, Jacquie—”
But she hung up on him. She knew too well the power of his voice, its effect on her will and her good intentions. If ever a girl had been talked into a man’s bed, it was young Jacquie Lennon.
Erin banged the door against the chair. “Mom? What’s going on? What in the world are you doing?”
“Nothing.” Jacquie moved the chair and opened the door herself.
“Did you talk about lessons? When do I start?”
“We didn’t set a time, Erin.”
“Mom! Why not?”
“Because there’s more to my life than your whims and fantasies,” Jacquie snapped, unfairly, she knew. “Like earning a living to keep a roof over our heads and food in the horses’ mouths. Riding lessons with overpriced, big-ego trainers are just not at the top of my list right now, okay? I’m going to bed. Good night.”
She aimed a kiss at Erin’s head and did an about-face, heading for her bedroom. Behind a closed door, she drove her fists into her pillow until her hands were too heavy to lift, her arms too weak to try. But she’d killed the fear. For now, anyway.
THE EXTENT TO WHICH Rhys’s arrival would disrupt her life became obvious when Jacquie arrived at her parents’ house for lunch on Sunday.
“Hey, sweetie.” While putting the lid back on a steaming pot of green beans, her mother tilted her cheek up for a kiss. “Where’s Erin?”
“She saw Daddy outside and went to talk to him.”
“She’s Grandpa’s girl. How was your week?”
“Same as usual.” And if that wasn’t a lie, what would be? “How about you? You got your hair cut? I really like it.”
“It is nice, isn’t it?” Becky Lennon gave a self-conscious pat to her short blond hair, then smoothed her hands over her plump hips. “I bought this dress, too. I had to get out of the house for a little while. Your daddy was underfoot most of the time.”
“I bet you put him to work.”
“What choice did I have? I can’t have him bothering me all day long.” She bent to the oven and pulled out two trays of golden biscuits. “He put up those shelves I’ve been needing in the sewing room and then installed a new shower door in you girls’ bathroom.” Neither Jacquie nor her sister Alicia had lived at home for ten years, but that was still their bathroom. “Jimmy came over on Friday and the two of them moved the furniture out of the living and dining rooms, gave the carpet a good shampooing.”
“Which is a nice way of saying you let him come over to give his wife the day off.” As farmers, neither her brother nor her dad knew what to do with themselves when confined to the house by ice and snow.
Her mother winked. “Sandy did the same for me yesterday—had your dad come over and help Jimmy put together the furniture for the nursery. We look out for each other.”
“She’s due next month, right?”
“February tenth is her due date, but the doctor says he thinks she’ll go early, from the size of the baby. Though in my experience, most first babies are late. Except Erin was early, wasn’t she?”
“Ten days.”
Becky nodded as she poured creamed corn into a serving bowl. “That’s why I didn’t get to be with you for the delivery.”
Jacquie winced at the unspoken reproof. Erin had been born in Oklahoma, far from family, with only her mother and a midwife to welcome her into the world.
In the front of the house, a door slammed. “That’ll be them, coming in from church. Alicia said she’d ride with Jimmy and Sandy. I’d better get this meal on the table.”
“What can I do?”
“You carry the vegetables into the dining room while I get the chicken.” Becky Lennon organized her Sunday dinners with the efficiency of a marine drill sergeant. In moments, the whole of Jacquie’s family was seated around the table.
As soon as her grandpa had given thanks for the food and the melting snow, Erin started talking. “Grandma, guess what? I’m getting riding lessons this week with Rhys Lewellyn. Is that amazing, or what?”
“That’s nice, honey.” In the middle of serving herself a slice of chicken, Jacquie’s mother looked across at Erin. “Lewellyn? Isn’t that…?” Her frowning gaze moved to Jacquie.
“That’s right.” Jacquie spoke over the gallop of her heartbeat. “I trained with him in New York. He’s just moved down here with his horses, and Erin’s dying to get his help with her riding.”
“More than just training,” Alicia said. “As I recall, you had a huge crush on Rhys Lewellyn. Every phone call was about how handsome he was, how he smiled—”
“You’re exaggerating,” Jacquie said, though her impulse was to scream Shut up! “I liked him a lot. He’s a good teacher.”
“And gorgeous?” Alicia prompted.
“Okay, yes. Still is, for that matter.” She hoped her appraisal came across as casual.
Erin’s eyes were round with surprise. “Mom? You and Mr. Lewellyn went out together?”
“No.” They’d never gone on dates because he’d been married. “No, Erin, we didn’t go out together. I was young, he was attractive and older and paid attention to me because I rode well. End of story.” More or less.
“Except that the next thing we knew, you’d moved halfway across the country, married Mark Archer and were having a baby.” Alicia shook her head. “You always were crazy, but that year had to be one of the craziest.”
When Jacquie glanced across the table, her mother’s frown hadn’t eased. So much about that time in her life had gone unexplained, she wouldn’t be surprised if Becky Lennon’s suspicions were easily aroused.
Damn you, Rhys. Damn you for showing up to ruin my life yet again.
Desperate for distraction, she turned to her sister-in-law. “Sandy, I hear you got your nursery set up this week. Have you finished sewing the curtains and quilts? When can I come see?”
Listening to Sandy’s glowing description of ruffles and rainbows, Jacquie recalled the “nursery” she’d arranged for Erin almost fourteen years ago—a thrift-shop crib in the corner of her one-room apartment over the barn, with worn baby sheets borrowed from the family she worked for and a yellow blanket representing her first and only attempt at knitting. Crooked and lumpy, the yellow blanket had been Erin’s “friend” until she went to kindergarten, and rested safe now at the bottom of their family keepsake box.
Alicia took over the conversation at that point. Jacquie tried to relax and enjoy her baked chicken, but her stomach was fisted tight. Thankfully, she got her plate scraped off and into the dishwasher before her mother noticed. And she got Erin out of the house before the subject of Rhys Lewellyn could come up again.
Her daughter had left most of her homework until the last day of vacation, of course, and they struggled through the rest of the day with an English paper and an algebra worksheet. Jacquie could help with the writing assignment, but algebra had never been her strong point.
“Alicia got all the math genes,” she told Erin, when they’d both worked on a problem and failed to get the correct answer. “She’s the brain and Jimmy and I are the brawn of the family.”
“Can we call her and ask her to come over? It’s still early.”
“According to whom? It’s after nine o’clock. Alicia’s ready for bed by now. She gets up at five to walk, remember?”
“She could skip her walk and drive me to school.”
“I’ll drive you to school. I’m having breakfast with Phoebe tomorrow morning.”
“Can I go, too? Maybe Phoebe could do my math.”
Jacquie sighed and shook her head. “You’re going to have to ask your teacher for help, Erin.”
“But, Mom…!”
Between a troubled night’s sleep and the usual early-morning scramble to find school clothes and make lunch, Jacquie felt she’d lived through a whole day by the time she drove into New Skye and dropped Erin off at the school door.
Across the street from the school, however, was Charlie’s Carolina Diner, where she knew she could get good food and a healthy helping of friendship. Kids at New Skye High School had been hanging out at the Carolina Diner after class and on weekends since long before she and her friends took up the tradition. Many of them still came back as adults—to catch up with each other and the latest news in town, or, like Jacquie, for a chance to unwind.
“It’s only eight-thirty,” she said, sliding into the booth where Phoebe Moss waited for her. “And I’m already exhausted.”
“I know the feeling. What’s going on?” Phoebe flipped her long, ash-blond braid behind her shoulder and cupped her hands around her mug of tea.
Jacquie caught a glimpse of a sparkle on her best friend’s ring finger. “I’ll tell you in a minute. First, let me see that rock you’re carrying around.”
Grinning, Phoebe stretched her left hand across the table to show off a diamond engagement ring. “We got it in New York while we were there over the holidays.”
“Fabulous. I love the emerald cut. Where did it come from?”
“Tiffany’s.”
“Oh, wow.” Jacquie sat back in awe. “Adam really does things with style, doesn’t he?” Adam DeVries, Phoebe’s fiancé, was a childhood friend of Jacquie’s and a fellow graduate in the class of 1989. Elected mayor in November, he would assume his office in a matter of days.
Phoebe’s grin turned into a dreamy smile. “We had the most wonderful time—skating at Rockefeller Center, a carriage ride in Central Park in the snow, museums and restaurants and shows…” She sighed. “Everything was simply perfect.”
“And now you’re back home, stepping out as the fiancée of the new mayor of New Skye. Are you ready?”
Her friend gave a mock shudder. “Just organizing the swearing-in party has me going crazy. But tell me about you and Erin. What’s going on that’s making you so tired?”
She toyed with her napkin. “The holidays were great. We loved the snow, of course, since we don’t get much. But…”
“But?” Abby Brannon arrived at their table with coffee for Jacquie and fresh tea for Phoebe. As the owner’s daughter, Abby had worked in the diner since she was a little girl. Not much happened in the town of New Skye she didn’t know about. More important, she’d been Jacquie’s close friend all during high school. “Something wrong with the horses? With Erin? Your parents? Your sister-in-law’s not due till February, right?”
“Oh, no. Everybody’s fine.” She shouldn’t have started this, Jacquie realized. How much could she say without revealing the truth she’d never told a soul, not even her best friends? “There’s a new trainer in town, Rhys Lewellyn.”
“The Olympic champion?” Phoebe kept horses, and would know his name.
“That’s the one. Erin’s crazy to take lessons from him.”
“And he doesn’t teach?”
“Yes, he does.”
Both Abby and Phoebe looked puzzled.
“It’s just…I worked with him, back before Erin was born. And we parted on bad terms. So having him as her teacher would be…difficult.”
“You don’t have to socialize, right?” Abby shrugged. “Just take her to the lesson and drive away when it’s done.” A bell rang behind the counter along the back wall. “Your breakfast is up. I’ll be right back.”
Phoebe nodded at Jacquie. “I agree. Write the check and don’t talk to him any more than you have to.”
If only it were so easy. “You know Erin. She thinks everybody should be friends. And she’d take a lesson every day, if I said okay. But I…” Her excuses sounded so weak. And the fear inside her was so strong.
“You…?”
Jacquie tried to tell the truth. “After what happened between us, I can’t bear the thought of seeing him that often.”
Not the whole truth, of course. Not the part about how being within a few feet of Rhys had been enough to set her pulse to pounding, just as it had when she was eighteen years old. How she’d caught herself wanting to trace the lines on his face with her fingertips, to rub the pad of her thumb over his lips. How, after years of banishing every wisp of memory, last night she’d dreamed of the past and all the lovely hours she’d spent in Rhys Lewellyn’s arms.
Phoebe swallowed a sip of tea. “Sounds to me like there’s more to this than you’re telling.”
“Well…yes,” Jacquie admitted, folding the napkin into crisp, even pleats. “I had a crush on him at the time. So it’s hard to meet him again as an old-widow woman with a kid.” How hard, she wasn’t prepared to say.
Her friend nodded. “I can see how that would be awkward. You could just tell Erin ‘no,’ right? She would survive.”
The only way to keep Erin and Rhys from seeing each other would be to forbid her to have anything to do with horses altogether. “I don’t think that would work.”
“Well, then, just concentrate on the bad and try to forget the good stuff.” She narrowed her eyes, thinking. “He’s probably insufferable, anyway. Arrogant and callous.”
That wasn’t fair. “Only when someone doesn’t give him their best effort.”
“And peremptory,” Abby added, setting down their plates. “Always ordering people around.” She leaned against the side of the booth.
“He can be,” Jacquie admitted. “But—”
Across the diner, the bell on the door jangled as another customer came in. Jacquie glanced at the new arrival, then looked again and felt the blood rush to her face.
“What’s wrong?” Phoebe had her back to the door, but she could, no doubt, read the trouble in Jacquie’s flaming blush. “Who is it?”
Abby gave a long, low whistle. “Speak of the devil. My guess is that Mr. Rhys Lewellyn just walked in. And we left out his most obvious character trait.”
Eyes wide, Phoebe looked from Abby to Jacquie. “Which is…?”
“He’s gorgeous,” Abby said. “With a capital G.”
Phoebe turned in her seat to get a quick peek. Flushing, she sat back again, facing Jacquie. “Oh, yes.”
Beside Jacquie, Abby straightened up. “And he’s heading this way.”