‘Well done,’ she said, standing back when the session was over. ‘That can’t have been much fun.’
‘Fun?’ Turning over, he grimaced. ‘If torture is fun, that was hilarious. You’re a lot stronger than you look.’
Wasn’t that the truth? Helping her father out of his financial difficulties was only half the story. When her mother died he took to drink, thinking this might numb the pain. But it was still there in the morning, only now he had a hangover to cope with, while Jess changed his sheets, washed his clothes and begged him to please take a shower. She suspected that these were secrets many other families were forced to keep.
As much as it had hurt like hell, the whole sorry experience had made her strong: physically strong as well as mentally robust. The first time she’d picked him up off the stairs, she’d strained her back. A refresher class in recovering unconscious patients from the floor had reminded her of techniques she should use to avoid injury. One step at a time, she’d told herself as she came to grips with caring for the broken man her father had become. ‘One step at a time,’ she’d whispered when he sobbed in her arms.
Now, thanks to the sale of the ponies, those dark nights were behind him and her father was back on top. He’d stopped drinking and took a shower every day. The washing machine went back to its regular cycle. Jess rejoiced to see him recover, but if she was totally honest she could see that being strong for her father had left her with no time to grieve. Just as well, she determined, firming her jaw. She had responsibilities, and a job to do, which she was good at.
* * *
What had caused the shadows in Jess’s eyes? Dante reflected. Had someone hurt her?
Dante didn’t invite questions into his life, and if Jess wanted to tell him she would. He wasn’t used to dealing with women who had so many onion skins to peel away before their true self was revealed, or maybe he’d never had the time or the inclination to do so before. Compared to Jess, those other women seemed like mannequins to him now. Jess was real—so real he missed the rapport they’d shared before their spat in the car. Their banter enlivened him, lifted him, and the pointless argument had been largely down to him and his frustration at not snapping back to full fitness immediately. That wasn’t Jess’s fault. She was doing her best to help.
‘Don’t rush off,’ he said as she packed up her kit. Swinging off the couch, he tested his leg...not too bad. ‘A lot of water has passed beneath the bridge since that kitten peed down your front, and you’ve shared so little with me.’
‘While you’ve been incredibly forthcoming,’ Jess observed dryly.
‘Touché,’ he conceded with a shrug and a smile. Then, after another few moments, he added, ‘I apologise.’
That stopped her dead in her tracks. ‘I’m sorry?’
‘I was unreasonable in the car.’
‘You were in pain.’
He didn’t want understanding; he wanted a return to the up and down relationship they’d shared before. That was never boring. Professional civility was borderline. ‘We can continue to snipe at each other or—’
‘I must have stank in that stable,’ she said, softening into the woman he wanted to know better. ‘Belated apologies,’ she added.
‘For caring for a kitten?’ He grinned. ‘Apology unnecessary.’
‘They were cute, weren’t they...?’
She looked wistful as she thought back, no doubt remembering her mother alongside her in the barn, introducing her to the miracle of birth and teaching her how to care for kittens. How lovely she was.
‘I have to go,’ she said, breaking the spell. ‘Apologies again, but I can’t stay to chat. I promised Maria I’d call by to see if there’s anything I can do to help with the wedding.’
‘That’s very kind of you.’
‘I am kind.’
Yes, she was, and he’d almost lost her. Even now it was as if the connection between them had been reduced to the slimmest of threads. He wanted to kiss her, reassure her, and banish that sad look in her eyes, but not yet. This was not the time.
‘Dante?’ she queried. ‘What are you thinking? You look so far away, yet so intense.’
He snapped to immediately. ‘Just thinking about your charity event.’
‘It was a good day, wasn’t it?’
‘A very good day. Successful, I hope?’
‘Massively,’ she admitted. ‘Mostly thanks to you.’
He shrugged this off. ‘It was your day. You organised it.’ Jess was always thinking up ways to help others. Why hadn’t someone helped Jess?
‘The main thing to me is that it lifted my father.’
He nodded in agreement. Everyone in the horse world knew the saga of Jim Slatehome, and how the great man had been devastated by the death of his childhood sweetheart. When his wife had died Jim had gone to ground and hadn’t been seen for several seasons. Surely someone must have noticed that Jess was reeling too? He guessed she’d put on a brave face because that was who she was. Her father had relied on her completely, and anything Jess had achieved personally, or for him, was a result of sheer willpower and grit. She didn’t deserve to be abandoned now with no one to confide in.
‘Three sessions tomorrow,’ she reminded him brightly before she turned to go.
‘Am I supposed to cheer?’ he asked dryly.
‘You’re supposed to get up bright and early and set your mind to accepting three sessions a day from now on. If you attend each one and follow my exercise regime, I predict that in around a month you’ll be back on your feet without that cane.’
His stare followed Jess as she walked away. There was such an air of purpose in her stride. He couldn’t go right ahead and seduce her because Jess was special, unique, precious and oh, so tender beneath her onion skins of professionalism and grit. There weren’t many he held in high regard outside his immediate family, but Jess Slatehome was right up there.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
A LOT COULD happen in a month. The run-up to Maria’s wedding seemed to fly by. Jess had grown to feel at home on the ranch. In her free time she helped out wherever she could.
Dante had been as good as his word, attending each treatment session promptly, before fulfilling his quota of exercises as diligently as Jess could have wished for a patient.
She did a lot of wishing that month—that their banter could progress beyond amusing and superficial to something deeper, and that the man beneath her hands might somehow wake up one day to find her totally irresistible. This led to a lot of sleepless nights, but if she hoped for Dante to act on the ever-strengthening bond of friendship between them she was to be disappointed.
They learned more about each other for sure, but the facts remained these: Dante worked on his leg. She worked on him.
He rode more and more, which was amazing to see, while she made notes on his progress, revelled in his surprisingly wide-ranging library, walked the ranch, rode out on her own, which was what she was used to in Yorkshire, and spent time with Maria, who was the closest thing to a sister Jess had ever had.
And today was the morning of the wedding.
Jess stood, hand clasped to her mouth in shock, in the middle of Maria’s cosy sitting room. ‘Me? Be your bridesmaid? Are you serious?’
Jess was overwhelmed, while Maria was clearly embarrassed at having to ask Jess at the last moment to stand in for her one and only bridesmaid, who had gone down with a bad cold. ‘It’s such an honour! I can’t believe it. Of course I’ll hold your flowers at the crucial moment. I’ll do anything I can. Are you sure? Isn’
t there anyone else you’d like to ask?’
Maria bit down on her lip. ‘Can I be completely honest?’
‘Of course,’ Jess said warmly.
Pulling a face, Maria laughed and blushed. ‘You’re the only one who’ll fit into the dress.’
Jess’s peal of laughter set Maria off. ‘I can’t think of a better reason,’ Jess admitted as the two women hugged.
‘But the best reason of all,’ Maria said in all seriousness when they parted, ‘is that I like you and trust you to do this for me.’
‘Then I’m honoured and thrilled to accept,’ Jess confirmed. ‘Do you think I should try on the dress, just to be sure it fits?’
‘Of course...’
Crossing the room, Maria returned with a dream of a gown.
‘This is so beautiful,’ Jess breathed in awe. The delicate confection comprised of lace and tulle and was lovely enough for any bride to wear on her wedding day.
‘I hope you like it?’ Maria asked with concern.
‘I love it.’ Jess sighed as she stroked the peach lace and chiffon. ‘I’ve never had the chance to wear anything like this.’
‘Wait until you see my wedding dress,’ Maria exclaimed happily. ‘Señor Acosta insisted that the gowns came from Paris, so he flew me and my mother there, saying she must have a special outfit too.’
‘He’s very generous,’ Jess murmured thoughtfully.
‘Oh, yes, he is,’ Maria enthused. ‘Everything was handmade in the atelier of a very famous designer.’
‘If only he weren’t so obstinate and remote. If he just let people in and...’ Her voice tailed away. Maria was looking at her as if she sympathised and yet wanted Jess to come to some conclusion by herself.
‘I’m sorry,’ Jess said gently. ‘He’s always been kind to both of us. I didn’t mean to criticise him—especially not to you, and not on the morning of your wedding. How selfish you must think me.’
‘Not at all.’ Maria took Jess’s hands in hers and held them tightly. ‘Like you, he’s hurt and scarred by loss and, like you, he says nothing. Both of you lose yourselves in work, and it’s only this accident that forced Dante to pause and take a proper look around at things that matter. Like you—’