A Weaver Baby. Allison Leigh
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time she’d felt the slightest hint of morning sickness.
It made her pregnancy seem a little more real. She didn’t know whether that made her want to laugh or cry.
“J.D.?” The concern in Susan’s voice was evident even through the closed door. “Do you need anything?”
J.D. dropped her hands and looked at her reflection in the mirror opposite her. A husband?
“No.” She cleared her throat, and looked away from the mirror. Becoming pregnant had thrown her for a loop, a joyous one certainly, but that didn’t mean she was entertaining ideas about orange blossoms and I do’s.
She was 31 years old and more than ready to be a mother. But a wife?
She hadn’t been able to stay faithful to Donny and he was the closest she’d ever come to even considering marriage.
“No, thank you,” she finished more clearly, and turned off the water before opening the door. “I’m fine,” she insisted. “It’s the heat. It’s just getting to me more than usual today.”
Susan’s eyes, so like her nephew’s, weren’t convinced, but it was probably her good manners that kept her from arguing the point. “It is awfully hot,” she agreed, and fell in step with J.D. as they headed back to the dining room. “I’d like to think the boys were simply miserable hiding in the back of your pickup truck the way they did,” she confided softly. “It might make them think twice next time before pulling another stunt.”
“Did’ja throw up?” Zach asked the second she entered the dining room.
“Zach,” Jake admonished.
The boy hunched his shoulders and jabbed his fork back into the slice of pie on his plate. “What? I was just curious.”
“Maybe you got the flu,” Connor suggested. “I got it last year. I got to miss a whole week of school ’cause of it. It was cool even if I did gotta throw up. Do you get to miss work now?”
“I don’t have the flu,” J.D. said. “I certainly don’t have to miss work.”
“Maybe you should,” Jake suggested. “Miguel told me there was a bug going around down there. Maybe you’ve caught it.”
The bug she had wasn’t exactly catching.
But it did provide an excuse and she greedily latched onto it. “Maybe so. Which means I should go before I spread it to all of you.”
“Jake, she shouldn’t drive,” Susan protested.
“No, really—”
“My aunt is right.” Jake set down his pen and stood. “I’ll drive you home.”
“No!” She seemed to be saying that quite a lot now, when she ought to have said it that night in the stable, eight weeks ago. “Truly,” she tried in a more reasonable tone, “it’s not necessary. I’ll be fine.” She started backing out of the room again. “I, um, I even have the entire weekend to rest up. Stay here with your family. Enjoy your meal.” Though, with the exception of Sophie, it didn’t look like anyone was enjoying themselves much. “Thanks.” She gave a little wave and turned on her boot heel, hurrying back toward the foyer.
Rude or not, she wanted—needed—to get out of there.
The stress inside the Forrest mansion was absolutely palpable and while she felt some sympathy for Jake’s boys, she wasn’t in any position to change anything.
She had a pretty good-sized situation of her own to resolve already.
She made it all the way to the front door and out to the wide front step before Jake caught up to her. “Hold it.”
Feeling like a disobedient schoolgirl did nothing to improve her sense of awkwardness.
She forced her tight shoulders down where they belonged and looked back at him, lifting one eyebrow.
She worked for him, and yes, she’d been unthinkingly careless to have unprotected sex with him, but that didn’t mean she was his to order around. Not when she wasn’t on his time clock. “Excuse me?”
His tired face tightened. “Wait, J.D., please,” he amended. “I’ll drive you home. You’re in no condition—”
She quickly went down the shallow steps. “I said I’m fine!”
Again, he caught up to her, this time taking hold of her arm to stop her flight.
Her pulse stuttered as she looked from his hand to his face.
A muscle flexed in his jaw and his hand slowly fell away. “Do you dislike me that much now that you can’t accept a simple offer?”
Shock swept through her. Dislike wasn’t at all what she felt when he touched her. “I don’t dislike you.”
His hands spread slightly. “Well, honey, it’s definitely feeling that way.”
She raked her hand over her hair, and yanked out the band around her ponytail when her fingers tangled in it. Her hair fell loose and heavy past her shoulders. “Jake, it’s just not a good idea. Okay?”
“Why? Because you’re afraid that people might—” he ducked his head toward her and lowered his voice “—talk?”
“Go ahead and make fun. You’re up here in your ivory mansion.” She jerked her chin toward the copse of trees that led down to the stables. “I’m down there with a half dozen guys who gossip worse than any quilting circle they have back home.” She came from Weaver, Wyoming, a small town with its own highly developed grapevine. She knew gossip, and the guys she spent most of her time with were some of the worst. “All I need is for someone to catch a glimpse of me riding around in that car of yours, and I’ll be suffering through their trying to get me to trip up where you’re concerned.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Miguel believes you assigned Lat exclusively to me because I exercised my feminine wiles over you!”
“I told him—”
She huffed out a breath. “It doesn’t matter what you told him. It doesn’t matter what you say. They judge based on what they see and what much more interesting story their minds can create. They’re a group who believes in the theory of where there’s smoke, there’s fire.” And heaven knew there’d been plenty of fire between Jake and J.D. that night.
When she wasn’t trying to figure out what was the best thing to do now, she was still feeling scorched by the memory of those flames.
“I’ll get Miguel straightened out.”
She couldn’t help but laugh a little, though there wasn’t much humor in it. “The more you try to fix the situation with Miguel, the more he’s going to think what he already thinks.” Her hands lifted to her sides. “And the fact of the matter is, he’s right. You assigned Lat to me because…because—”
“I thought we’d gotten that straightened out.”
“All we did was put off the matter while you dealt with your wife’s accident.”
“I told you before. Ex-wife,” he corrected.
Her gaze snuck to the mansion behind him. The gracious dwelling had never possessed a replacement for her—the only woman he’d ever cared enough about to marry. “It doesn’t matter anyway.” She drew her thoughts away from that direction back to where they belonged. Everything that went on in the tight, surprisingly small world of thoroughbred racing had to do with reputation. All Miguel had to do was voice one hint that J.D.’s “promotion” where Latitude was concerned occurred because of her personal relationship with Jake, and she’d never be judged on her real merit again. She’d never be taken seriously as a trainer once she left Forrest’s Crossing.
That would be true even if there were only rumors.