Without thinking, she put her hands into his. They were rough, callused. Hands that did physical work, ranch work, real work. Brad’s hands had always been soft and perfectly manicured—but then, Brad wasn’t a cowboy. He’d been a stockbroker.
Although she was on her feet, she held on to him for a moment longer than necessary to take her measure of the man she would have to trust. The man who would be taking care of her son.
Jake met her gaze with steady, unflinching eyes. Eyes that weren’t bloodshot like Brad’s had always been.
“Is that the barn? Oh, wow! It’s the barn, Mom!” Kevin called.
Realizing that she was holding on to Jake way too long, she dropped his hands. “Wait for us, Kevin!” she shouted back.
Jake smiled. “I’ve never seen anyone so thrilled about a barn,” he said, as they walked down a cleared path.
They stopped at the gate of the corral. Several horses walked over, most of them sniffing Kevin and Jake. Even to Beth’s untrained eye, the long-legged, satin-coated horses looked like beauties.
“They know that I usually have a treat for them.” Jake dipped a hand in the pocket of his shirt and handed Kevin a piece of a carrot. “Hold it flat on your hand and don’t be scared when their big yellow teeth come at you.”
“I’m not scared,” he said, but he had a white-knuckled grip on the arm of his wheelchair. His other hand was flat, his face a study in concentration.
“They won’t hurt you,” Jake said. “Just reach out. Keep your hand flat.”
Kevin did it, and when the horse gently took the carrot, Kevin let out a little squeal. “Cool!”
Jake turned to Beth. “How about you?”
Beth nodded, eager to try. She held out her hand and he placed a piece of carrot on it. The horses pushed closer, each nosing for the food. She picked out a horse who was more patient than the others and opened her hand.
Jake moved behind her and put his hand under hers. “Keep your hand flat.”
It was a harmless gesture, but she could feel the warmth of his chest on her back, could smell the scent of his spicy aftershave, the warm wisps of his breath on the side of her face.
When the carrots were gone, Kevin turned to Jake. “Which horse is going to be mine?”
“None of these. They’re not ready yet. But there’s a couple in the barn you might like.”
He tugged back two enormous wooden doors. The smell of horses and hay drifted around them.
Kevin gave a breathy “Oh, wow!” and wheeled into the barn.
Beth inhaled. “This reminds me of when I was a kid and I lived in central New York—my parents used to take me to the state fair.”
Jake looked at her with interest, waiting for her to continue.
“I waited all summer for the fair. I couldn’t wait to go through the horse barns and look at all the beautiful horses. I’d pick one out and pretend it was mine. Then I’d watch the horse shows and cheer my horse to victory.”
“Now I know where Kevin gets his love of horses.”
Jake smiled, and she could see tiny lines at the corners of his eyes that were white against the dark tan of his face.
She smiled back. “I’ve always liked horses.” She paused, thinking back. “When Kevin was little, several times during the day he’d hand me a book, crawl up on my lap and ask me to read to him. I read every book with a horse or a pony on the cover a hundred times over. I’d take him to horse shows and rodeos when they were nearby. He just loved going.”
The memories that the barn smells triggered washed over her, all warm and comforting. Those were some of the best times of her life, just Kevin and her, and that’s the way she liked it.
Kevin craned his neck as he wheeled down the cement walkway of the barn. He didn’t know where to look first. On both sides were stalls, and most of the horses hung their heads over the half-door. On each door was a wooden sign with the horse’s name in black print.
“That one there is a beauty,” he said. “Wow! So is that one! And that one!”
Jake was patient with Kevin. As they came to each stall, Kevin had to pet the horse and call it by name.
After a while, Beth caught Jake’s eye. “Can I speak with you, Mr. Dixon?”
Nodding, he left Kevin petting a horse and walked over toward her.
“About the horse—”
Jake held a hand up. “I promise you, Kevin’s horse will be gentle. All the horses in this barn are hand-picked for Wheelchair Rodeo. I work with them myself. Don’t worry.”
“Easy for you to say,” she said. “He’s not your son.”
“No, but I’ll take care of him as if he were.”
She met his gaze. His blue eyes were as cool and as refreshing as a spring day, and he truly seemed to care about Kevin.
So then why couldn’t she let herself trust him completely?
Because she had trusted her son to a man with a drinking problem before, and Kevin was almost killed. And the man had died.
Jake glanced down the long row of horses and shouted, “You might like Cheyenne, Kev, or the black horse in stall three. Check them out.” Then he turned back to Beth and lowered his voice. “Look, I don’t know all of what you heard at the airport, but don’t pay any attention to it.”
“I heard that you were drunk and hurt a man.”
“I wasn’t drunk. I had a few beers, yes. I had some words with someone, and then suddenly we were in the middle of a free-for-all.” Jake sighed and looked away. After several seconds, his gaze returned to her. “Look, Wheelchair Rodeo begins the day after tomorrow, so if you’re having second thoughts about trusting me with Kevin, you’d better tell me now.”
She met his direct gaze. “I’m having second thoughts.”
“Fair enough.” He nodded. “Then take him out of the program.”
“It would break his heart,” she said. “You’re his hero. He idolizes you.”
“Lady, I’m no one’s hero. It’s all I can do these days to get up every morning.” He was speaking through gritted teeth. “And I might be a lot of things, but I’m not a drunk.”
That was just what Brad had always said.
Beth swallowed hard and glanced at Kevin to make sure he was out of hearing range. She knew she had angered Jake Dixon, but she had good reasons for not trusting him—or anyone, for that matter—with her son.
Maybe she owed him an explanation. “His father was an alcoholic,” she said. “He picked
