MILLIONAIRE'S SHOT: Second Chance Romance (7 page)

Unfortunately, times had changed and it was clear Ginger didn’t rate that sort of care now. Cassie’s stride turned jerky. It was infuriating that Rachel could spur a willing mount around the field and then order the helpless horse to be tied beneath the hot sun. To a stinky toilet. And not one person had protested.

Grooms were usually animal lovers, devoted to their charges, but obviously they were terrified of their employer. Worse, Alex hadn’t lifted a finger to stop her. He was no longer the wonderful man she’d known, and he and Rachel deserved each other.

Her hands fisted and she burst through the wide barn door, into the polished alleyway framed with stalls crafted from furniture-grade red oak. She doubted Ginger would be here. She was probably stuck outside in a paddock somewhere, providing a meal for blood-sucking mosquitoes. There were no grooms in sight to ask, but the aisle was L-shaped, with the office at the back. Cassie promised herself she’d stay calm for Gramps’ sake, but if they’d mistreated his horse again it would be difficult to ignore.

She swept around the corner, prepared to do battle. And immediately spotted Ginger.

The mare wasn’t being abused. In fact, she was in crossties in the aisle, eating hay from a wheelbarrow thoughtfully placed within reach. A young girl crooned a lullaby while she gently applied ointment to Ginger’s ribs.

Ginger flicked an ear, curiously eyeing Cassie, but continued munching at the alfalfa.

The girl glanced up. “I thought everyone was gone. And there was no place to tie a hay net. That’s why I put the wheelbarrow there. It’s okay, isn’t it?” Her tone was a childish mixture of defensiveness and uncertainty.

“Sure,” Cassie said. “I’ve done that before. Horses appreciate being able to eat after a long day.”

The girl gave a relieved smile and continued dabbing blue ointment onto Ginger’s cuts. “You don’t have to supervise me,” she said. “Ginger is well behaved. And I’m allowed to look after her by myself.”

Clearly she mistook Cassie for a groom. There were so many Sutherland workers nobody could remember all their faces. And the barn was crammed with sleek horses, every stall full. It seemed Alex and Rachel owned enough polo ponies to field two teams, and the amount of money invested in horseflesh was so gross it almost made her ill.

“Ginger’s stall is at the end across from the office,” the girl went on. “It has a fan that will keep flies away even if she rubs off the ointment. And tomorrow I’ll put on a sheet and take her out for some grass. We don’t think she should be turned out though. Do you?”

“No,” Cassie said slowly. “Probably not. The flies are pretty bad this time of year.” Her fingers uncurled from her fists, her anger fizzling. She’d been prepared to fight every groom on the Sutherland payroll, but this girl clearly intended to take good care of the mare. As if she already had a relationship with the horse…and maybe she’d know when those spur marks had really occurred.

“Did you put anything on her cuts this morning?” Cassie asked, feeling a bit guilty for interrogating someone so young. “Before she went on the trailer?”

“No,” the girl said. “Ginger was fine then. This happened at the polo game.”

Ah-ha! So it was Rachel.
And now Gramps would have proof. Cassie hid her triumph, slid her phone from her pocket and discreetly pressed the ‘Record’ button. “So you saw Ginger this morning,” she repeated. “And she had no marks? No scars or cuts of any kind?”

“I didn’t see her this morning,” the girl said, “but I saw her last night. I helped give her a bath. I feel bad she’s cut now but at least I get to look after her. Most of the polo ponies are too jumpy. The last time a horse was quiet enough for me to handle was over a month ago.” She gave Ginger a kiss on her nose then fluffed up the hay in the wheelbarrow so the mare could reach the best pieces.

It sounded like this girl didn’t ride. Just enjoyed looking after them on the ground. But she’d taken care of the mare, and now Cassie had proof that Ginger was fine before being entrusted to Santiago. Gramps could show the committee that it definitely hadn’t been him who cut up Ginger’s sides.

She gave a sigh of relief and held her phone out a little further. “So you’re saying the horse was unmarked last night. That her rider did this today, not the original trainer? You’re sure of that?”

“Positive. But Mom didn’t mean it. She really didn’t.”

Cassie froze, her hand stuck midair. She stared at Alex and Rachel’s daughter, barely able to breathe. Then her skin prickled in an old familiar sensation, and she knew
he
was behind her.

She pulled in a gulp of air, lowered her phone and turned.

“Hello, Cassie,” Alex said. His face was the same, his handsome features still perfectly chiseled, but his shoulders looked bigger, more formidable. And though his tone was polite, his mouth was hard, almost as hard as his ice-blue eyes. “Please tell me why you’re recording my daughter?”

Cassie had imagined countless reunions with Alex over the years. In some of her dreams, he and Rachel had snickered at her juvenile infatuation. In the best ones he dropped to his knees, confessing that he had never stopped loving her and wished he’d never married Rachel. But she’d never anticipated his chilly glare, the kind she’d seen him use on others who’d displeased him. Certainly never on her.

She straightened her spine. “Good to see you too, Alex,” she said.

He just stared, his arms crossed. She thought the side of his mouth twitched but she could have imagined it. The overhead lights shadowed his profile but regrettably he was just as gorgeous as ever. However, all he did was stare.

“Gramps had a heart attack,” she added. “I came back to help him.”

“Sorry to hear that. But that’s not what I asked.” He sounded genuinely sorry but his big arms remained crossed and he was still looking at her hand… No, at her phone.

She quickly tucked the offending phone back in her pocket. Obviously he was annoyed about the recording but no way was she giving it up. That might be the only thing that could salvage her grandfather’s reputation.

“I’m here to pick up Ginger,” she said, amazed at the calmness of her voice. “Santiago was supposed to ride her. No one else. So it was decided we should take her home.”

“Ginger is your horse?” And now he looked surprised. An odd expression crossed his face, one almost of resignation. Then his expression shuttered. He gave a polite dip of his head. “We’ll find some shipping bandages and help you load her.”

“But, Dad!” the girl behind them said. “Ginger can’t leave. I’m supposed to look after her.”

“This is Grace.” Alex’s entire manner softened when he turned to his daughter. “Cassie’s grandfather was my old trainer.”

He didn’t say they’d been childhood friends or that they’d ridden together every day for ten years. She didn’t expect him to admit they had dated. But he certainly trivialized their relationship, and even though she was prepared for it, his words hurt.

“Couldn’t Ginger stay?” Grace asked, staring at Cassie with imploring eyes. “Please, just until she’s better? I’ll take good care of her. Since it’s Mom’s fault I really should be the one to look after her.”

Cassie’s hand flattened over the phone in her pocket. She wished she had
that
statement recorded on her phone. But the raw appeal in the girl’s voice yanked at her heartstrings. She spent a lot of time with children on the movie sets and horse-crazy girls were her favorite. And she knew how much it hurt to watch a horse leave. “Well—”

“No,” Alex said, his voice clipped. “It’s best if Ginger goes home now. Tonight.”

Cassie slowly closed her mouth. Clearly he didn’t want her around. Or Ginger. Which was fine because she didn’t want her grandfather’s horse here either. And she shouldn’t have let herself be softened by empathy for his daughter.

“Grab some shipping bandages,” Alex said to Grace, gesturing toward the tack room.

“Thanks,” Cassie said, her voice just as clipped. “But bandages aren’t necessary. I had a flat so I’m leading Ginger home.”

Grace tilted her head in confusion then placed a protective hand on Ginger’s neck. “But how far away do you live? I didn’t know there were other stables on our road. And I think Ginger is too tired to walk.”

“We’re not on your road,” Cassie said, appreciating the girl’s concern for the mare. “But it’s not so far if I cut across the back fields. She’ll be fine.”

“It’s dark though,” Grace said. “And strange people live there. That’s why Mom never rides in the south field. It’s not a nice place.”

“It’s okay.” A flush warmed Cassie’s face and she didn’t look at Alex. “I know the area well.”

She unclipped Ginger from the cross ties and attached her lead line, outwardly poised but intent on keeping her hand from shaking. Alex really had changed. She’d told herself that maybe he hadn’t seen her at the polo game—and clearly he hadn’t known that Ginger belonged to Gramps—but there was no question, he definitely wanted them both gone. Tonight. The old Alex would have worried about her walking off in the dark. This new Alex was silent, just watching her with hooded eyes.

“But isn’t it dangerous to lead a horse alone at night?” Grace persisted.

“Not if I’m careful,” Cassie said.

“But, Dad!” Grace wheeled toward her father. “Didn’t you always say it was more dangerous at night? Especially if a horse is alone?”

“Yes,” Alex said, his voice resigned. “So we’ll walk across the field and give them some company.”

Cassie’s chest flared with panic. She did
not
want to walk across their old playground with Alex and his daughter. “That’s not necessary,” she said.

“But I think it is,” Alex said. And he gave her that regal Sutherland look, a look perfected over centuries by a family accustomed to looking out for the welfare of their animals, their servants, their boardrooms…and their neighbors. She knew from experience it was useless to argue. But it was just as apparent he was walking her home, not out of affection but because of a deep-rooted chivalry, and also his desire to appease Grace.

Stars dotted the sky and a fat white moon illuminated the open fields. Cassie squeezed Ginger’s lead rope tighter against her palm, keeping the mare beside her at a measured walk. It was easy enough to see and the rolling ground was devoid of holes. But her legs felt awkward and it was hard to concentrate on Grace’s tentative questions. She was far too aware of Alex’s imposing figure, striding tall and silent on the other side of his daughter.

Cassie nodded again, fighting to keep her words from sounding stilted. “Yes, I used to live around here. My grandfather gave your dad some riding lessons.”

“Did you play polo too?” Grace asked.

“A little,” Cassie said. “Not as well as your parents though.”

“But Dad doesn’t play polo. Only Mom.”

She couldn’t help it. Her head jerked sideways. Alex had barely spoken since they left the barn, since he’d insisted on walking her home. Moonlight reflected on his face. He was staring straight ahead, not smiling but not frowning either.

This was totally weird. He had all those polo ponies in the barn—and he didn’t play?

“Well,” she said slowly, “he used to be a good player, the best in this area.”

“Santiago is the best now,” Grace said. “Mom says Dad can’t even remember how to swing a mallet.”

The idea was so ludicrous Cassie almost laughed. Alex was a superb athlete, rarely missing a shot. He certainly remembered how to swing a mallet. Yet Grace was almost snickering at his skill. Obviously she’d never seen him play. Why had he given up a sport he loved? Polo was the one thing he’d shared with his dad. That and making money were the only two things that had ever earned his father’s approval.

Alex had practiced long hours in order to make the Sutherland team. He even helped Cassie with barn chores so she’d have more time to hit balls with him. Most nights he didn’t leave Gramps’ house until after dark, and he was always quizzing her grandfather about horse psychology, keen to learn why some animals were natural polo ponies while others preferred a different line of work.

“Hitting balls isn’t the only thing to do with a horse,” Alex said, as if reading her mind. “Cassie works with them in the movie industry.”

She glanced sideways again, surprised he even knew where she worked. She hadn’t kept in touch with old acquaintances and her grandfather said he hadn’t spoken to Alex in years. Alex wasn’t looking at her though. He was smiling down at Grace, his expression so tender it was obvious he doted on his daughter. And something tightened in Cassie’s chest.

“The movies?” Grace gave an excited skip and turned toward Cassie. “Really? So you work with horses on the ground? You don’t have to ride?”

“Not usually,” Cassie said, clearing her throat. “But I’m just an assistant, more of a wrangler. My boss is the head trainer.”

“What sort of things does he teach them?”

“Whatever the movie needs. Roll over, play dead or even to jump through fire. Once he had a movie about a famous racehorse and needed to teach a Thoroughbred to leap into a swimming pool.”

“Sweet.” Grace’s eyes glowed. “I’d love to do something like that.”

Her enthusiasm was so genuine Cassie’s mouth lifted in a smile. A wrangler’s job was hard work and definitely not prestigious. Grace didn’t seem to realize she’d never need a job like that. Not with the Sutherland money.

“When Cassie was your age,” Alex said, “she trained her grandfather’s horses to stand in the brook so we could jump off their backs.”

Cassie’s smile deepened. She remembered every animal she’d ever trained. Unfortunately it seemed that whenever she finally had a horse willing to stand still while they climbed over its slippery back, her grandfather sold the horse. It had been so upsetting. Alex had always taken her home and cheered her up by letting her leap off his Olympic-sized diving board.

“Jumping in a brook sounds like fun,” Grace said, bouncing with delight.

“It was,” Alex said. His voice shifted and she felt his appraisal. Luckily it was night and she was busy leading Ginger and had an excuse to avoid his eyes. She never could hide her feelings from him, and his gaze seemed even more perceptive now.