MILLIONAIRE'S SHOT: Second Chance Romance (8 page)

“Can you teach me how to train a horse to stand in a brook?” Grace asked.

“No!” Both she and Alex spoke at the same time, their voices raised in shared horror. She understood her panic although his quick protest was surprising. And hurtful.

“Cassie is just home to see her grandfather,” Alex went on, his voice level again. “She doesn’t have much time.”

Perhaps she’d mistaken the horror in his voice. And she definitely didn’t plan on spending any more time with Grace, no matter that Alex’s daughter was so likeable. Clearly they both agreed on that.

“I’m here to help my grandfather sell his horses,” she said lightly. “And everything is really rushed right now.”

“I understand.” Grace’s tone was polite but her obvious disappointment left Cassie feeling torn.

“The most important thing,” she said, smiling down at Grace, “is to start with a patient horse. One who doesn’t mind being away from his friends. And it helps if they have a long mane and a broad back.”

Grace gave an enthusiastic nod. “I’ll remember that. And would it help if I hung a feedbag over the horse’s nose, so he can eat at the same time?”

“No. That would be dangerous. Water might get in the bag and the horse could drown. And you don’t want to be trying this with your parents’ polo ponies.” She gripped Ginger’s lead line a little tighter. No doubt, Alex and Rachel wouldn’t want their fancy horses standing in a brook all day.

“Yes.” Grace’s voice dulled. “All our polo ponies have shaved manes. And I wouldn’t be able to do it anyway. I’m not good at anything except grooming and bandaging.”

Cassie stiffened. What a horrible way to feel. And she didn’t understand why this girl didn’t own a quiet pony, something to build up her confidence. She looked over Grace’s head at Alex, and once again he seemed to pick up on her thoughts. He gave his head a little shake and for a moment the powerful Alex Sutherland looked almost helpless.

“You sure did a good job with Ginger’s cuts today,” Cassie said, keeping her voice bright.

“I made the ointment myself,” Grace said. “It works really well. I can come over and put some on Ginger tomorrow if you’d like.” Moonlight revealed the hopeful expression on her upturned face. “Since you’re busy with your grandfather and might want help?”

“No, Grace,” Alex said, his voice gentle but firm. He turned to Cassie. “There’s a boggy section just ahead. Pass me your phone and I’ll check the ground.”

Cassie halted Ginger and gave him her phone. They were entering the back section of the south field. The grass looked level and she couldn’t remember this area ever being soft but she’d been away a long time. Another few minutes and she and Ginger would be home.

Home.
She blew out a disbelieving sigh. It was wonderful to be back, even if the polo game hadn’t gone according to plan. And it hadn’t been so awful walking with Alex and Grace. Obviously he didn’t want her seeing his daughter again, but they were in agreement on that. And it was rather comforting he’d insisted on walking her home. A nice note for their final good-bye.

Ginger pawed at the ground, her ears pinned on the tree-lined path. Clearly she knew they were close and was impatient to return to her barn. And Cassie didn’t need the light on her phone. There was plenty of moonlight.

“I can see perfectly,” she said, holding out her hand for her phone. “We can walk alone the rest of the way. Thanks for the company. It was nice to see you again, and it was great to meet Grace.”

Alex still hadn’t managed to turn on her light. He was fumbling with her phone. … No, not fumbling. His deft fingers flew over the screen.

She jerked back, feeling like she’d been sucker punched. Now she realized why he’d insisted on walking her home. It wasn’t because of their old friendship at all, or even to satisfy Grace. He’d just wanted a chance to delete the recording. Protecting his wife by erasing Grace’s comment that Ginger hadn’t been bloody before the game.

“Are you quite finished?” she asked, hating the hurt in her voice that she couldn’t hide. And that she still used her birth date as the password.

“Now I am,” he said, passing over the phone. “Please give your grandfather my regards.”

And even though he’d successfully removed all evidence against Rachel, his voice wasn’t triumphant. In fact, he sounded regretful.

Feet shuffled in the kitchen. Cassie shoved aside the sheets and scrambled out of bed. If she didn’t hurry, Gramps would feed the horses, and he wouldn’t stop with tossing hay and grain. How much did a water bucket weigh anyway? More than he should lift, that was for sure. And then she’d agonize all day, worrying that the exertion might cause another heart attack.

She yanked on a T-shirt and jeans and bolted down the narrow hall.

“Morning, Gramps,” she called, catching him just as he was reaching in the closet.

Boots thumped back on the floor and he shot her a sheepish look. “Thought I’d help feed this morning,” he said. “And check on Ginger. How did the trailering go last night? Did you see Santiago or that woman?”

That woman
.

Cassie shook her head, hoping she could avoid mentioning the flat tire. She was supposed to keep Gramps calm, not worry him with trivial details. From the front of the house, he couldn’t see that the truck and trailer weren’t parked in their usual spot. Maybe she’d find a spare tire kicking around in the shed and be able to haul the trailer back before he even noticed.

He was too proud to knowingly accept her money, and he’d only get defensive if she mentioned his tires needed replacing. It was best not to say anything and simply buy new ones without him knowing.

“No one was at the Sutherland barn except for Alex and his daughter.” She pulled out a kitchen chair, encouraging her grandfather to sit. “They were taking good care of Ginger… Alex asked me to say hello.”

“Do they have many horses over there? Is their barn full?”

“All forty stalls,” she said, marginally relaxing. Gramps was too interested in horses to quiz her about tires, or people. He wasn’t going to ask any tough questions about the Sutherlands either. Like if Grace looked like Alex, or if Alex was happy…or if Cassie still loved him.

“Their barn is full of good-looking polo ponies,” she said. “Even more than when Alex’s dad was alive. And Ginger wasn’t outside. She was in a big stall at the office end of the barn.”

Cassie walked over to the sink, picked up a washcloth and began scrubbing at the spotless counter.

“Alex didn’t see us at the polo game,” she went on. “He mentioned that he and Grace left early. I don’t think he even knew Ginger was your horse.” She didn’t know why she was babbling. Or why she felt compelled to defend Alex.

“But of course Alex didn’t know,” Gramps said, his voice matter-of-fact. “Or he wouldn’t have let it happen.”

She tossed the cloth aside with a sense of relief. Her grandfather preferred horses to humans, but he did understand people. If he still held a high opinion of Alex, then clearly Alex hadn’t changed that much. And she wasn’t going to upset Gramps by telling him about Grace’s recording—the one that had vindicated him—the one Alex had deleted. After all, it was understandable a man would want to help his wife. Especially a protective man like Alex.

She pulled open the cupboard door and rummaged for the coffee. It wasn’t healthy to dwell on Alex and Rachel. She just appreciated being home, being able to eat breakfast with Gramps and talk about old horses, and people, and of course, polo.

“I wonder why Alex doesn’t play polo anymore,” she mused, keeping her back to Gramps. “Especially since his wife still plays. Maybe they’re not totally happy…?”

“He stopped playing polo before his daughter was born,” Gramps said. “And of course he’s not happy. That’s why they’re divorced.”

Her hand froze around the coffee container and she felt the blood draining from her face. It was a relief Gramps couldn’t see her expression. “How long have they been divorced?” she managed, her eyes fixed on the cupboard.

“Not sure. Rumors started back when he sold that Thoroughbred stallion of his. Wish I could have bred a mare to that stud. He was a beauty. Alex thought a lot of him. So did his father, and the Sutherlands know their horses—”

“How many years, Gramps?”

“Don’t know. Six or seven, I guess.”

She wrapped both hands around the coffee tin, trying to stop their shaking. This was worse. Alex had been divorced all that time and hadn’t even bothered to let her know. Hadn’t cared enough to reach out. While she’d thought about him often, convinced they would have had a future together if it hadn’t been for Rachel’s untimely pregnancy.

She remembered his quick rejection the night before when Grace had asked about training lessons. Even now he didn’t want to rekindle relations, even as a friend. Her breathing sounded loud, drowning out the sound of the ticking kitchen clock.

Her grandfather was still praising the athleticism of Thoroughbreds and how their competitive nature was important for polo. Usually she appreciated any kind of horse talk with Gramps. But right now, she just wanted to slink back into her room and hide.

She’d totally misjudged Alex’s feelings. Had built their friendship up in her mind, letting it overshadow all other relations. No friend had ever matched him, no lover had ever come close to rousing the same passion. She’d avoided him geographically, hadn’t once googled his name, but emotionally he’d never left her heart.

She’d been a fool.

She ripped off the lid and dumped in the coffee, too off balance to count the scoops. But it would definitely be strong.

“I’ll feed the horses now,” she said, jamming the coffee container back into the cupboard and wheeling toward the door. “Be back in twenty minutes to make breakfast. Then we can talk about the best way to help you retire.”

She shoved open the screen door and escaped onto the verandah. The sun was just poking over the horizon, the morning air crisp. She’d always loved the start of the day here, knowing there were horses to feed, to ride, to teach. But today she just stared blankly at the barn, dismayed at her numbing sense of loss. Really, life was no different than it had been yesterday so it was ridiculous to feel like this—helpless, hollow, unwanted.

A hungry horse nickered from inside the barn and she gave her head a shake. She had to stay focused. Alex was truly out of her life now, and that was a good thing. It wasn’t even his fault. She’d built him up into the perfect man, her soul mate, obsessing about all the thoughtful things he’d done. How he’d always shown her how much he cared.

And maybe he had, once. But that was years ago. Things were different now.

She thumped down the wooden steps and headed toward the barn. At least she was back with her grandfather, home where she’d ached to be for almost a decade. She had to straighten her thoughts though if she were going to be any help to Gramps.

Today she’d ride each horse, except for Ginger, and assess their market value. After that she’d hike down the road and pick up the truck, then find a spare tire and collect the trailer. Hopefully she’d have time to check Internet listings for other clubs. She’d contact them before Rachel had time to spread her poison.

If the four horses didn’t sell as polo ponies, their worth would be drastically reduced. Unfortunately every player in this area belonged to the Ponhook Club so she would have to go further afield for buyers.

She trudged around the corner, making a mental to-do list as she walked past the trailer.

Trailer?

She whirled, her eyes widening. Yes, her grandfather’s horse trailer was really there, parked in its usual spot beside the barn. And the truck was parked beside it. They weren’t sitting on the back road where she’d abandoned them last night. Her body turned so taut it was impossible to move, and she could only stare as if dropped in some twilight zone.

She squeezed her eyes shut. When she opened them, the trailer was still there, still sitting on its regular patch of dried-out grass. She reached out, cautiously touching its metal frame. It was reassuringly solid. And it didn’t have a shredded tire. In fact, all four tires were sparkling new, white lines gleaming against the shiny black rubber.

Alex was the only person she knew with enough money and clout to move a locked truck and have four premium trailer tires installed before six am. And he was the only one she’d told about her flat tire. This was the type of thing he used to do for her …before he married Rachel.

But it didn’t make sense. And while she was grateful, the gesture left her bewildered. She wanted him out of her head, for good this time. Not filling it with conflicting feelings of frustration and gratitude.

And worse, even a little hope.

“You’d really enjoy working with the film horses,” Cassie said. She leaned further over the kitchen table, her eyes on Gramps. “And you’d like my boss, Dan Barrett. He’s great with the animals. His training philosophy is a lot like yours.”

Her grandfather pushed away his plate, his scowl quick and scornful. “But I wouldn’t like living in a trailer, moving around all the time. Different states, different people. Sounds like you’re nothing but a nomad.”

Cassie flinched. It
was
an itinerant life. She never was able to memorize the roll of a field, the lay of the land, and the people around her always changed. Some of her jobs weren’t even in North America. But she had learned to like it, and so would Gramps. “I have an apartment in L.A.,” she said, “so I do have a base. But I like to keep busy.”

“I like to keep busy too,” her grandfather grumbled. “But here. In one spot. And I like to get up and feed horses, not live in an apartment and wait for a phone call about my next job.”

Cassie took a pensive sip of coffee. She hadn’t realized he’d been listening so closely during their phone calls. She’d tried to conceal her homesickness. And she was used to that life now. But it was obvious her grandfather wouldn’t be happy sharing her apartment, away from the house and barn and the paddocks he’d built. However, it would be awhile before he’d be medically cleared to resume riding, and even then he’d have to slow down. With no pension or savings, a financial buffer was crucial.