Her Tycoon to Tame (18 page)

Shock flowed over her like an iceberg. “Wait a minute! You bought Sutherland Farm and flipped my world upside down with the intention of turning right around and selling the property?”

He pivoted with rigid control. “Sam spends most of his time reminiscing about his farm, and he's most coherent when he discusses horses. I wanted him to be comfortable for however long he has left. But not at an increased risk to his safety.”

That he'd spent millions of dollars to make his stepfather comfortable touched her. “Because you love him.”

Wyatt recoiled as if she'd slapped him. “No. Because considering what my mother and I cost him, I owe him. It's a debt to repay. Nothing more. Nothing less.”

She didn't want to believe he considered Sam a duty, but the coldness in his face and eyes was irrefutable. Clues she'd ignored suddenly formed a picture so clear she couldn't miss it.

“That's why you guaranteed our jobs for a year. It wasn't altruism. It was apathy. You never had any interest in Sutherland Farm at all. You planned to dump it at the end of the year.”

“It could have been longer, depending on Sam's condition. But not now.”

Her stomach hollowed out and her legs folded. She plopped into a leather chair across from his desk and stabbed her fingers into her hair. This wasn't just about FYC or her world imploding anymore. This was so much bigger.

“You never tried to get to know the staff because you don't give a damn about the farm, its mission or its people. All you care about is the bottom line and making the business as profitable as possible before dumping it on the market once it's served your purpose. That's why you were so determined
to shut down FYC and to buy my little piece of land—to make Sutherland Farm a more attractive package for the next buyer.”

“There's nothing wrong with cutting waste and improving profitability.”

How could he be so clueless? “Not if all you care about is money. But I keep telling you, Wyatt, money isn't the only measure of success. Even if you haven't bothered to attend any of FYC's classes to see how we help dozens of others, you've seen Sam's progress when he works with the horses. Every day his balance, coordination and thought processes are clearer. His plotting to work with the mare at night when he wouldn't get caught is proof of that. My gosh, he even memorized Jeremiah's schedule.”

“What good is thinking more clearly if he ends up dead?” The ice in his voice sent shivers up her spine. He had a point.

“And what about us? Was I only a temporary convenience, too? One you'd shed when you sold the farm? Do you have no feelings for me at all?” She wanted the needy words back the moment she heard them. But it was too late.

His unblinking gaze drilled her. “I asked you to be my mistress, not my wife.”

She flinched and cursed herself for the telling reflex. “No. Marriage wouldn't be
profitable.
Would it?”

There sometimes came a painful point during a rescue when she had to admit she couldn't save an animal and she had to let it go.

Like she had with Sable.

And now with Wyatt.

She'd been wrong about him. He was one of the few whose trust could never be regained. And in becoming his mistress she wouldn't be earning his trust. She'd only be fooling herself into believing they had a future. Wyatt would never open his heart enough to love anyone.

The pain in her chest pulsed outward. Needing to escape before he discovered how badly the discovery hurt, she forced herself to her feet.

“I have to get to work and earn my keep. I'd hate to be responsible for the slowing of the money train. But you'll have to find yourself another mistress. I'm no longer available.”

 

“Good thing we learn from our mistakes 'cause letting that gal walk out was a doozy,” Sam said from the open patio door. The rising sun illuminated the lines in his face and the droop of his once proud shoulders.

“Hannah jeopardized your safety.”

“She gave me a purpose for living. Working with that mare reminded me there's something I'm still good at.”

“Sam—”

“Wyatt, I know your intentions are good, son, but I'd rather be locked up in an old folks' home where all I can smell is disinfectant and dirty diapers than be incarcerated here where I can see the life I'm missing.”

Consternation rooted Wyatt to the rug. “You don't mean that. You love horse farms.”

“I love being part of a horse farm, not looking through the windows at one like I'm watching TV. I know I have days when I forget stuff. And sometimes I overlook important details—or so you keep telling me. But being locked up isn't living.”

Guilt twisted inside Wyatt like a knife. And if anyone understood the pain of being discarded, Wyatt did. But what else could he do?

“Give it time, Sam. You'll get used to the farm and I'll visit as often as work allows.”

“Time is the one thing I don't have. My life is over. Might as well be dead. Told Hannah as much. At least
she
understood.”

Alarm kicked through Wyatt. “You told Hannah you'd rather be dead than here?”

“Yep. That's why she let me work with the mare. I'm the one who broke the promise I made her by sneaking out. But I forgot. Or maybe I wanted to forget.”

No wonder Hannah had intervened. “She should have come to me with her concerns instead of going behind my back.”

How could he trust anyone who would do that?

“Would you have listened?”

Probably not.

“Much as I love you, Wyatt, you can be one stubborn son of a bitch when you set your mind to something. That ambition is good in business, but it doesn't work so well with people.”

Wyatt flinched. “I'll make sure you get more time with the foals.”

“I want to do more than play with babies. I want to work with horses that try to outsmart me. Like that mare. If I can't do that, then I want to go home.”

Sam's passionate words were a jarring reminder of why they were here in the first place. “You can't, Sam. You sold your house before you moved into the penthouse with me. Remember?”

Sam frowned. “I do, now that you mention it. But this ain't my home and it never will be if I can't be with the people I love and enjoy the things I love doing while I still can.”

Frustrated, Wyatt watched Sam storm out. He'd done everything he could to make Sam comfortable here. And Sam would calm down as he always did after one of his emotional outbursts and things would be fine.

Hannah, on the other hand, had betrayed him. She had to go.

 

Hannah stood on the unfamiliar doorstep of her father's town house, wishing her first visit to his new home could be under better circumstances and hoping he'd give her the answer she sought.

Her father, wearing only his bathrobe, opened the door. His eyebrows shot up, then he glanced briefly over his shoulder. “Hannah, this is a surprise.”

“We need to talk.”

“It's 6:00 a.m.”

“This can't wait.”

“It's all right, Luthor. Let her in,” a recognizable woman's voice said from inside, spurring Hannah's heart into a racing beat.

Hannah gasped. “Is that Dana?”

The door opened wider, revealing the registered nurse who had been volunteering for FYC for almost a year. She also wore a robe and her tangled hair suggested she'd just climbed from bed. Not a pleasant realization.

“Good morning, Hannah. I need to get to work, so give me five minutes, then I'll be gone and you can talk.”

Flabbergasted, Hannah's gaze bounced from the forty-something blonde to her father. He had a girlfriend? She couldn't remember him ever dating anyone. “Dad?”

“Come in, Hannah. There's fresh coffee in the kitchen.” He turned and headed in that direction. Dana trotted up the stairs.

Hannah entered cautiously, not sure she could handle another shock this morning. She passed a den containing the leather sofas that had once occupied her father's office. In the kitchen he indicated she take a seat at a table that hadn't been in the old house.

He filled a mug and set it in front of her. “What brings you here so early without calling first?”

“I didn't realize I'd be interrupting something.”

Her father's cheeks turned ruddy. “I have a life now. One that doesn't revolve around horses.”

“You could have told me you were seeing someone.”

“I wasn't sure how you'd handle it.”

“I won't deny it's a surprise, but Mom's been gone a long time, Dad.”

A little of the tension eased from his shoulders.

Dana breezed into the room wearing pink hospital scrubs. She kissed Hannah's father square on the mouth. “Gotta go, love. I'll see you tonight. And Hannah, I'll see you Sunday.” Then she was gone.

“Does she live here?”

“No.”

“How long have you and Dana been seeing each other?”

“About six months.”

“Is she the reason you sold the farm?”

He sighed and sat. “She's not the reason, but Dana was my wake-up call. Life was passing me by while I chased your mother's dream.”

“It was your dream, too. And mine.”

“It was more your mother's than mine, but I loved her and wanted to support her in any way that made her happy. I lived out her vision long after she was gone, even though my heart wasn't in it. At first I carried on because I didn't know what else to do. I missed her and working with the horses kept her memories close. But it wasn't the same without her.”

Her throat tightened. He had never let his grief show before now. “You never told me that.”

He shrugged. “Hannah, I don't want you to make the same mistake of forgetting to live
your
life while you're living her dream.”

“I'm not.”

“You were always so enamored with her diaries, her charts and her books. I should have done something sooner.” He cleared his throat and fidgeted for a moment. “The accident wasn't your fault, Hannah.”

She'd needed to hear that from him for so long. “If I hadn't been so determined to make that jump—”

“You inherited that persistent streak from her. She was just as determined to see you succeed.”

Her chest tightened. “Her death wasn't your fault, either, Dad. I never should have accused you of murdering her when you discontinued life support. I'm sorry.”

“You weren't ready to give up hope. Neither was I. Signing that form was the hardest thing I've ever done. But it was the right thing to do.”

Tears stung her eyes and burned her throat. “I know that now.”

“It doesn't matter how many nags you rescue, Hannah, nothing is going to bring her back. We both have to move on. I don't want you to wake up in twenty years and realize there's a list of things you never got around to doing, like having a life and a family, because you were always nursing your nags.”

“They're not nags,” she defended automatically, then took a breath. “So you left me to sink or swim.” She couldn't keep the hurt from her voice.

“I told you I won't be around to support you forever. You have to learn to stand on your own feet.”

“Couldn't you have had your relationship at Sutherland Farm?”

“This is not about my relationship with Dana. It's the all-consuming Grand Prix lifestyle. I'm tired of eating, breathing and sleeping horses. I want more and so should you. Even if that weren't the case, that was your mother's house. She designed every inch of it. I would never dishonor her memory by taking another woman there.” He set down his mug. “So what brings you here this morning, Hannah?”

She blinked as reality returned. She and her father had covered more ground this morning than they had in the past nineteen years. But in light of what he'd shared, her reason for coming might not matter to him. But she had to try.

“Wyatt bought the farm you and mom devoted your lives to as a temporary investment. That's why he guaranteed the jobs. Because he has no interest in running the business. He plans to dump the property as soon as it's served its purpose.”

Leaning back in his chair, he folded his arms. “What do you want me to do?”

“Buy it back!”

The corners of his mouth dipped and he shook his head. “And then we'd be right back where we started. I'm through with horses. If staying in the business is truly
your
dream, then you'll find a way to make it work.”

“But Dad—”

“Believe it or not, Hannah, I'm doing this for your own good.” He rose. “I love you too much to help you.”

 

If she couldn't sleep, she might as well work.

Hannah zipped her coat to her chin and stuffed her hands into her pockets to ward off the middle-of-the-night chill as she strode through to darkness toward the barn. The weight of her day weighed heavily on her shoulders.

The confrontation with Wyatt and the dissolution of their relationship had left her feeling empty, confirming she hadn't just been rescuing Wyatt for his own good. She'd been saving him for herself. Not a good thought.

After her visit to her father she'd decided that if Wyatt insisted on selling the farm, he might as well sell it to her, and she'd spent the afternoon on the phone fruitlessly searching for financial backers. But after calling several banks and everyone in her address book, she hadn't found anyone willing to back an inexperienced stable owner in the current financial climate. She couldn't call Rashed because with hindsight she realized Wyatt might be right. Rashed did seem interested in more than a business relationship. And she wasn't going to sell herself to anyone—not even to save Sutherland Farm.

A metallic screech caught her attention. She turned and spotted the gate to the small paddock swinging in the breeze. The
open
gate. Alarm shot through her. Phoenix!