Conflicted (Everlasting Love)(20)
Jesse laughed, but it was an angry sound. “He’s already got a legacy, darlin’. Hell, he’s got a dynasty. But it’s not enough.” He grabbed her by the arms, made her look at him. “Nothing will ever be enough. Even if he had won the Triple Crown today, he’d want another one next year. If one’s good, two would be better. Or three or four…The Triple H could be the first horse ranch to ever win the Triple Crown two years in a row. Wouldn’t he love that?”
She wrenched away from him. “You’re being ridiculous.”
“At least I’m in good company.”
She stiffened, then turned and walked into the bathroom. As he listened to the click of the lock, Jesse gritted his teeth and tried desperately to keep from punching something. He hadn’t meant to argue with Desiree, hadn’t planned to say anything about her father at all.
But what was he supposed to do? He’d given this ranch everything he had for the past nine years. What else could she expect from him?
How could he have anticipated Rhapsody falling? What could he have done about it, even if he had seen it coming? Thrusting his hands into his hair, Jesse paced back and forth, agony and anger battling within him as he waited for Desiree to re-emerge from her self-imposed exile.
But when she finally came out of the bathroom, her face scrubbed clean and her pajamas on, he was no closer to finding a solution to their dilemma. When she came up behind him and slipped her arms around his waist, he tried to relax into her embrace but their fight was still too raw in his mind.
“I love you.” She pressed her lips against the back of his neck as she slid her hands up his back and began to massage his shoulders.
He reached up, grabbed one of her hands in his own. “I love you, too, Desiree. But this isn’t working. I can’t live like this.”
She stiffened against him. “What does that mean?”
He turned, pulling her suddenly unyielding body into his arms. “It means that I feel as torn as you do. I’m stuck in this catch-22 between the ranch and you and your father and I don’t think it’s healthy for any of us.”
He took a deep breath, his hands running in soothing circles on her back. “I think I need to look for another job, find another ranch to train horses for.”
“Jesse, no!’ Her hands flew to her mouth. “You can’t do that.”
His eyes were grim as he studied her. “Then tell me what to do, Desiree. How do we solve this? Because I can’t spend the rest of my life caught between my boss and my wife.”
CHAPTER FIVE
STRIDING ACROSS THE manicured lawns of the Triple H, Desiree struggled to shake off the memories that had her in their untenable grip. The journal was in the front pocket of her coat. She’d been unable to put it away, though she knew it was both stupid and masochistic to carry it with her.
As she walked, she surveyed the lands that she had run—almost single-handedly—for the past nineteen years. She hadn’t needed to do it that way; the ranch was full of qualified people who would have been more than happy to share the burden. Jesse, Don, Roman were just a few of the brilliant horsemen the Triple H employed. They’d all offered their help on too many occasions to count, yet she’d rarely taken them up on it. The ranch was hers—her inheritance, her responsibility, her pride and joy.
Even Big John hadn’t tried to manage all of the day-to-day runnings of the ranch—preferring to hire the best possible people and leave it in their competent hands. She knew, had always known, that his way—at least on this—was the right way. But then, her father hadn’t had anything to prove. He hadn’t been the first woman to ever inherit the ranch, hadn’t had half the American horseracing community watching, waiting for him to fail. He had never known what it was to be doubted, not because of decisions he made or failures he’d caused, but because of something as fundamentally unchangeable as gender.
She did know and she lived with the fear of failing every day of her life. The fear of not being good enough, of not living up to the legacy her father and grandfather and great-grandfather had left for her.
But things were changing. She was changing. She thought, again, of the plans she’d made for the future, of the papers she’d had drawn up and the talk she’d wanted to have with Jesse. It had been too long in coming—she knew that—but she had figured better late than never. She’d had something to prove when she’d taken over the ranch, and she liked to believe she’d proven it. Now was the time for a new era, the time for her to follow her conscience and do what was right. To do what she should have done long, long ago.
Or at least that’s what she’d had planned, before Jesse had turned everything upside down.
Her shoulders drooped as she headed toward the maternity barn—Majesty’s Child was set to foal anyday now, and she wanted to check on her, make sure she was being taken care of. She—and Jesse, of course—had great hopes for this foal. Both its parents were descendents of the greatest racing lines in history, and she had a feeling—a tingling in her blood, in her soul—that told her this horse was the one. This was the one that would finally realize her father’s dream, her own dream, of bringing a Triple Crown to the ranch.
The caterer’s van pulled up, and she knew that she didn’t need to meet them, that Maria would set things in motion. But she wanted to check with them to make sure everything was as Willow wanted it. Desiree also needed to talk to the florist who was, even now, building the arbor of poinsettias and mistletoe that Willow and James would be married under. There was also the hairdresser. Felipe was nothing if not arrogant and insecure enough to demand her fawning attention.