“I think so too. Rain check on the chicken tonight? I promise you and I will spend some time in that kitchen tomorrow.”
Rosy nodded and left as quickly as she came, and Jake sighed. He’d been looking forward to breaking the ice with her, but it would have to wait.
“All right. Is there a car I can take? Her truck will bounce her right out of her head and my rental’s air conditioning is shitty. Do you want to come with us too?”
“I’b nod goig doo a hozpidal. Doo far,” she protested, and slowly sat up, gasping and wincing.
“Yes, you are,” Peony admonished her daughter. “And, no, I’ll stay here. She’s in good hands with you, Jake. You can take her to the community medical center in Brightside,” she added.
“No, nod there,” Liz protested. “Anywhere bud there.”
“Where else then, dear? It’s a long drive into the city.” Liz was now glaring at both her mother and Jake, but Peony stared her daughter down.
Jake smothered a laugh, got up from the floor, and leaned against the door frame to watch the showdown from a safe distance. If he hadn’t been worried about Liz, the situation would be rather comical. Both mother and daughter were as stubborn as they came.
“Fine,” Liz huffed a moment later, and crossed her arms, pouting as best she could as her face swelled.
Peony cleaned her up, clucking a little over her, earning further exasperated sighs and eye rolls from Liz. When she’d finished, Peony placed a piece of tape over the bridge of Liz’s nose. She looked like a boxer. Her eyes were both going to be black tomorrow, to go with one hell of a headache.
“You can take Brett’s Lincoln. Keys are hanging by the garage door. It’s a smooth ride,” Peony said as she finished and got up from the couch. She was moving better already, he thought. Stress was lessening, and she was getting sleep, he figured.
“Momb?” Liz said as she looked at her mother incredulously. “Bred’s car?”
“Well, it’s that or Jake’s little rental, which will have you sweating in no time. Which would you prefer, darling?” Peony said crisply, folding the slightly damp, stained tea towel in her hands. Liz dropped her chin and let out another sigh.
“My chariod awaids then. Lead on, thidy boy,” she mumbled, and then Jake did laugh as he headed for the garage.
Chapter Twelve
“Damn it, I want to go home,” Liz muttered to no one in particular. “This is stupid. I’m fine.”
A raised eyebrow from Jake, who was slouched in a chair next to the examination table with his eyes closed, made her want to throw the tissue box beside her at him. She winced again as she shifted on the bed, her head throbbing. The ice had done wonders, and the saline sinus rinse had stung like a son of a bitch, but her nose was clear now. New tape across the bridge itched. All they were waiting for was a doctor to discharge her and tell her it wasn’t completely broken, of which she was already aware. She’d broken her nose before, and this wasn’t that.
“You aren’t terribly patient for a horse trainer,” Jake remarked, and she turned to him, narrowing her eyes. His tall, wide frame barely fit into the chair, and as she glared at him, she remembered what it had felt like falling into that frame.
Shit. She’d already been lightheaded. Then—
“Seriously?” she muttered. “What would you know about it?”
Jake opened his eyes at that point, the brown depths much calmer than she felt, and she looked away.
“I dated a girl who owned a jumper farm in the Hamptons. Got the basics for sitting on a horse from her.”
“She used English saddles and jumped, then?” Liz asked. “Like at Spruce Meadows.”
“No idea where that is, but if they do that there, then yes.”
They lapsed into silence, the sounds of the clinic echoing around them. Her head throbbed as she shifted, the ache radiating outward. It was going to hurt more later, and she sighed, already feeling behind, knowing that tomorrow she would likely be relegated to work she could do from a desk instead of working all the horses they had in. Summer was busy season, and every day mattered.
“Where is that damned doctor?” she muttered, and hopped off the edge of the table, holding the side for support. Her eyes caught Jake’s for a moment, and he tilted his head.
“You okay?”
“Fine,” she snapped.
“You say that a lot,” he replied, and sat up, quirking another eyebrow. “You don’t like relying on other people, do you?”
She gave him a dirty look, then leaned against the table, examining her hands. “No.”
