things never went any further.
“Yes.”
“While I was at the elementary school working, I heard that he and Lissa Roarke are engaged.” When she and Gage had dined at his office, his mind had definitely been elsewhere. Probably on Lissa, who’d flown in from the East to organize volunteers in Rust Creek Falls on behalf of an East Coast relief organization.
“So that’s all around town, too?” Brooks asked.
“Lissa has been doing so much to get help for Rust Creek Falls that her name pops up often, especially with the volunteers.”
“Gage went through a tough time after the flood, but he sure seems happy now.”
“We had dinner,” Jazzy said.
“Dinner? With Gage?”
“I stopped in at the sheriff’s office to ask for directions. He and I started talking and one thing led to another. But his mind was elsewhere—I think it was on Lissa. That was soon after she arrived.”
“You mean he asked you out because he didn’t want to think about her?”
“Something like that, though I don’t think he realized it at the time.”
Brooks looked pensive as Mirabelle trotted toward him. He glanced at Jazzy. “Do you feel comfortable being out here with her?”
“Sure. Is there anything special you want me to do?”
“I’m just going to check her overall fitness, and make sure nothing insidious is going on. After a flood, all kinds of things can develop.”
When Mirabelle came up to Brooks, Jazzy let the horse snuffle her fingers. That ritual completed, she petted her neck and threaded her fingers through the bay’s mane. She talked to her while Brooks examined her. He checked one hoof after another, then pulled a treat from his back pocket and let her snatch it from his palm.
“She’s the easy one,” he remarked. “Now let’s go check out Sparky.”
Jazzy could easily see Sparky eyeing them warily, his tail swishing. “How do you want to do this?” she asked.
“We’re going to sit on the fence and let him come to us.”
“Do you think I should be sitting there with you, or should I go inside?”
“Let’s give it a try. You can’t force a horse to communicate with you. If I’m patient with Sparky, he usually comes around.”
“He hasn’t for Sam?”
“Sam was on a guiding tour when the rain started, but he got back in the nick of time. Sparky’s tolerating Sam. But I think that has to do with the flood and the rescue, maybe a sense of abandonment. Animals have it, too.”
Had Brooks felt abandoned when his mother died? Had his father been there for him? Maybe that was at the root of their discord.
Brooks opened the gate at the rear of Mirabelle’s corral, and they walked out.
“Sparky was watching us while we were tending to Mirabelle, so he knows we’re here.” Brooks went along the fence a little ways then climbed the first rung and held his hand out to Jazzy. She thought a man’s hands told a lot about his character. Brooks’s hand was large, his fingers long. Staring at it, she felt a little quiver in her stomach.
“Jazzy?” he asked, and she lifted her chin, meeting his gaze.
Zing.
Something happened when she looked into those deep, brown eyes. She took his hand and felt an even stronger buzz vibrate through her body. She could feel the calluses on his fingers that had come from hard work. She was curious about him and his life and she was afraid it showed.
They were both sitting on the top rung when Sparky froze midtrot and eyed them warily. He was a paint pony with dark brown swaths on his cream-colored coat.
“Now what?” she asked.
“We wait.”
“Wait for what?”
“You’ll see.”
The horse did nothing for at least five minutes. He just stared at them. When Jazzy glanced at Brooks, she saw he wasn’t the least bit impatient. Wasn’t that a novelty. She shivered suddenly. The morning air was cool and she rubbed her arms.
“Are you cold?”
“The sun’s warm.”
“Not what I asked you.” Brooks was wearing a denim jacket that fit his broad shoulders way too well. It was loose at his waist. She concentrated on the brass buttons on his jacket instead of contemplating other things about him.
He started to shrug out of the jacket and she clasped his arm, saying in a low voice, “No, really. I’m fine.”
He chuckled. “You don’t have to whisper around Sparky. He’s not afraid of our voices, just of us getting too close when he doesn’t want us to.”
She felt herself blush, but she still held his arm because her hand seemed fascinated by the muscles underneath. Ignoring the fact that she said she was fine, he removed his jacket and hung it around her shoulders.
“You can give it back once the day warms up.”
So he was protective, and...thought he knew best. What man didn’t?
Although she protested, his jacket held his warmth and his scent. It felt good around her. She snuggled into it and watched Sparky eyeing them.
It happened slowly, Sparky’s acceptance of them into his world. The horse tossed his head and blew out breaths. He lifted his tail and ran in the other direction, made a circle and then another that was a little closer to them. After about ten circles, he was only about five feet from them.
Brooks took a treat from his back pocket and held it out to the horse, palm up.
“Sam said he wouldn’t take treats from him anymore.”
“That’s Sam. Sparky and I have an understanding. I don’t try to do anything he doesn’t want me to do when he takes the treat.”
“Rescue horses are often skittish like this,” she said. “I mean, horses rescued from abuse, not floods.”
“Trauma in whatever form has to be treated with kindness most of all, as well as a gentle hand and a firm determination to overcome whatever happened.”
She’d seen that, working with the horses at Darlene’s place.
It took Sparky a while but he finally came within a foot of Brooks’s hand.
Jazzy didn’t move or even take a breath.
Sparky snatched the piece of biscuit and danced away then looked back at Brooks to see if he had more.
With
