MILLIONAIRE'S SHOT: Second Chance Romance Page 2

  “Filming for that race series I told you about starts in a month,” she said, watching a chestnut mare whose nose was jammed in the air, despite the martingale. The mare was bold and quick, but so out-of-control she cut dangerously across the path of an opposing horse. A mounted umpire blew his whistle, instantly calling the foul.

  “Have you thought any more about working with me,” she went on, “and helping train horses for the movie? It would be like a vacation except you’d get paid a consulting fee. Food and accommodations are free. Best of all, you never have to worry about the selling part. Don’t you think that would be fun?”

  Riders shouted and hooves thudded in the background, but her grandfather didn’t answer. In fact, he was oddly quiet. The most noticeable sounds were the snickers of spectators beside them.

  “Gramps?” She shifted on the blanket, alarmed by his silence.

  He’d looked pale on the drive over, but now his face was parchment white. His mouth twisted and he struggled to breathe. Sweat dotted his forehead. Oh God, he was having another heart attack.

  She fumbled for her phone, frantically trying to remember her CPR training and wondering how long it would take for an ambulance to arrive.

  “I don’t believe it,” he mumbled, his voice so weak she could barely understand the words.

  “What is it? Does your chest hurt? Just lie back, take slow breaths.”

  Gramps leaned forward, craning to see the field. “That’s Ginger, my good mare,” he said. “But that’s definitely not Santiago riding her.”

  “Are you all right?” she asked, holding her phone so tightly she could no longer feel her fingers.

  He didn’t answer, but he was clearly breathing. And obviously just agitated. She loosened her grip on the phone and followed his gaze.

  Four riders wore the purple and white uniform of the Sutherland team. Three appeared like extensions of their mounts. But the fourth rider clung to her horse’s neck, her mallet jabbing precariously close to the animal’s eye. When the ball bounced beneath a cluster of legs, her horse twisted in pursuit, dumping her to the ground. The spectators beside Cassie guffawed.

  Her grandfather, however, dropped his head in his hands and groaned. His breathing was labored but he wasn’t having another heart attack. He just looked completely and utterly defeated.

  “So that’s Ginger,” she said as understanding dawned. “But that rider’s fall wasn’t her fault. She’s just following the ball.”

  “Ginger is too good to be ridden by someone like that,” her grandfather said, jerking to his feet. And now his face was no longer white, but a blotchy red. “I have to talk to Santiago. Right now. We had an agreement!”

  “Sure. But it’s better to talk tomorrow,” Cassie said. “After the game. When you’ve had time to think about what to say.”

  “But my horses don’t get treated that way. And Ginger looks like a bronc. It’s not fair to her.” He shook his head, a tendon in his neck bulging dangerously.

  Cassie couldn’t pull her eyes away from that bulging tendon, imagining the flood of blood his heart was struggling to pump through his body. This was exactly the situation doctors wanted him to avoid.

  “Don’t worry,” she said, trying to keep him calm. “We’ll call Santiago tomorrow and figure out when he can ride Ginger next. How about I look up the schedule of other games? Right now on my phone. There’s probably one here next week.”

  Gramps wasn’t even listening. He twisted away and stomped toward the truck.

  “There’s no sense going over there now,” Cassie said. “Santiago will be busy with the game. It’s best if you talk to him later.”

  “The third chukka is almost over,” her grandfather said. “I can see him at halftime. He was supposed to be the only one riding that mare.” To Gramps, a man’s handshake was as good as a written contract. He honored his word and expected others to do the same. “If you don’t want to drive me,” he added, his voice hardening, “I’ll walk. But I have to check on Ginger. She’s upset. And I need to find out why Santiago switched riders.”

  “No problem. I’ll drive you.” She pulled in a resolute breath, rose and folded the blanket. His urgency was understandable. A trainer’s livelihood revolved around his reputation, and her reluctance was mostly based on her desire to avoid Alex.

  Right now, it was more important that she help Gramps stop fretting. He wouldn’t relax until he worked out another game date with Santiago. Besides, she didn’t care about Alex. After almost a decade, she was well over that pain—and totally happy with her life.

  And a part of her almost believed it.

  CHAPTER THREE

  The sign above the door warned: ‘Club Members Only.’ Their memberships had expired long ago but that didn’t stop Gramps. Besides, they didn’t intend to linger. They just had to cross the patio to reach the horse grounds on the other side.

  “Hello, Jake,” a man in a white seersucker suit called. “Hi, Cassie. Good to see you both.”

  The man looked vaguely familiar and Cassie acknowledged his greeting with a polite wave. But her grandfather didn’t stop. He plowed through the spectators, intent on reaching the picket area on the other side. When she’d ridden here the clubhouse had been open to the public, in an attempt to attract wider interest and prove that polo wasn’t reserved for the wealthy. She’d managed to participate on a tight budget but that was only possible because Gramps had been able to retrain affordable horses.

  Most well-trained polo ponies cost at least forty thousand, and a competitive rider needed a minimum of four horses, along with a support system that included transportation and capable grooms. Gramps had always found her horses off the track, picking up Thoroughbreds who either weren’t fast enough or simply didn’t want to race. Often they’d been as cheap as five hundred dollars.

  “Hello, Cassie.” A woman’s long fingers wrapped around her arm. “What are you doing here? Thought you’d moved to sunny California?”

  Cassie nodded, remembering playing polo against the brunette, a divorcee with two sons. But the woman’s name drew a blank. “I’m just home for a couple weeks,” Cassie murmured. “It’s good to see everyone.”

  “I’m married again.” The woman’s voice contained a note of triumph. “To Jonathon Stiles. You must remember him. He’s President of the Board.”

  “That’s great. Congratulations.”

  “What about you? Husband? Children?”

  “No,” Cassie said, her voice amazingly level. “Keeping busy with horses.”

  “Indeed. Well you look exactly the same as when you were a groom here.” The woman’s eyes swept over Cassie’s jeans and now she sounded almost spiteful. “Lots of changes here. The Club made a ton of improvements after you left.”

  “Yes, it looks a lot bigger.” Cassie peered over the woman’s shoulder, keeping an eye on her grandfather as he maneuvered around the tablecloths. He didn’t look sideways at the seated patrons and strode with a single-minded purpose. She didn’t want him talking to Santiago without her. Gramps was often too blunt, especially when it involved his animals.

  “The clubhouse isn’t just bigger,” the woman said. “The horses and players are much more talented…you know, compared to when you used to play.”

  Yes, the brunette’s smile was definitely spiteful. Cassie still couldn’t recall the woman’s name—Jocelyn maybe—and she didn’t want to waste any more time listening to her blather. Gramps was almost out of sight.

  “Luckily the days of picking up cheap Thoroughbreds from the track are gone,” the woman went on. “We have a committee that steers members toward appropriate mount selection. We don’t want to risk injuries, especially with the quality of our players. The Sutherland team is amazing now. Actually, anyone who rides here has to be good—” The woman gave a pointed pause. “Not like before. And we only rely on qualified horse trainers now.”

  Cassie had developed considerable patience working with a variety of needy movie stars, both adults and
children, but this woman had just slurred her precious grandfather. Gramps was the best trainer she’d ever met, including her current boss, and she wasn’t going to stand back and let anyone insult him.

  “That’s wonderful the players are so good here now,” Cassie said. “So you don’t play at the Club anymore?”

  The brunette’s eyes narrowed as if struggling to process the comment. Then she gave a haughty sniff. “I certainly do play. I have a plus two ranking now, only one below my husband and his brother. We won the Family Tournament the last three years in a row. Maybe some day you’ll be able to watch. I’m sure my husband could get you a pass.” Her gaze lowered over Cassie’s jeans. “For the tailgate section of course.”

  “Great,” Cassie said. “Those fans there are always the most knowledgeable.”

  The woman opened her mouth to retort but Cassie cared too little to stand and spar. She definitely wouldn’t be around to watch the Jonathon Stiles team compete on Family Day. Once, that had been her dream. To have a family of her own. To ride with her grandfather, with Alex…

  Turning, she scanned the crowd for Gramps. His denim checkered shirt should be easy to spot in this glamorous section. But he was out of sight. Didn’t matter though. She knew his destination. The ponies were tethered to the right of the clubhouse, and Santiago and his team would be gathered there, grabbing a breather before the second half.

  Of course Alex might be there as well. Unlike many players, he always oversaw each of the Sutherland ponies, not relying solely on his grooms. That sense of responsibility had been one of the things that had drawn them together.

  And ultimately pushed them apart.

  She steeled her shoulders, ignoring the fluttering in her chest, and stepped onto the grass on the other side of the canopy. It was halftime and the crowd was sparser here. Many spectators were out on the field, helping repair the torn turf by following the age-old tradition of stomping divots.

  She forced her stride to remain confident, even though her legs felt leaden and she wished her grandfather hadn’t insisted on visiting Santiago today. A groom pushed past, carrying a replacement girth and hurrying toward a row of horses. Activity was always frenzied between chukkas, like a pit stop at a car track.

  She walked toward the row of tethered animals, searching for her grandfather. Praying she wouldn’t see Alex. She’d vowed never to return to the Club, but sorting out what had happened with the mare was too important. Qualified buyers were scarce. Top players often owned a string of ten animals, an impossible investment for the casual rider, so selling four ponies to a collegiate team was huge for Gramps. Well worth swallowing her pride and facing the happy couple.

  And their daughter.

  Besides, Rachel probably wouldn’t even recognize her. Just because Cassie thought about them on occasion didn’t mean they wasted one moment of their privileged lives thinking about her.

  I love you, Cass. But a baby changes everything. Alex’s words still haunted her, the torment on his face forever seared on her soul.

  She jammed her hands in her pockets. She hadn’t come home to brood, only to support Gramps. Having Santiago show off the mare was critical. A top rider brought out the best in a horse while a bad rider made it appear rank and badly trained. Hopefully Santiago would agree to ride Ginger at the next match, and people would forget today’s poor impression.

  She could hear Gramps’ voice now. Luckily it wasn’t too loud, so obviously he was doing his best to be diplomatic. He was speaking to a tall dark-haired man in white pants and a turquoise shirt. An attentive groom rushed up and passed the man a bottle of water.

  Her grandfather shot her a relieved smile as she approached. “This is Santiago,” he said, making the introductions. “And this is my granddaughter, Cassie. She used to play polo. Now she trains riders and horses for the movies.”

  “If you turn out horses as well as your grandfather,” Santiago said, flashing her a polite smile, “they are lucky to have you.” He took a swig of water and looked back at her grandfather. “I intended to ride your mare today but we had to shuffle some horses at the last minute.”

  “But you’ll give Ginger a try in next week’s game?” Gramps asked.

  “Yes,” Santiago said. “Rachel no longer wants to ride her so that won’t be a problem.”

  “Good,” Gramps said, blowing out a sigh of relief. “Because we both know the mare is much better than what people saw today. It’s unfortunate she fell off.”

  Santiago gave a diplomatic smile. His eyes cut beyond her grandfather and his teeth flashed even whiter. It was the type of dazzling smile that movie stars perfected. Cassie had developed a knack for assessing genuine emotion and she sensed right away this man was a master at turning on the charm. He was focused on impressing someone…but obviously not them.

  She followed his gaze, looking past the muscled hindquarters of the line of polo ponies, past the smell of boot polish and horse sweat and saddle soap. The excited chatter faded away. And she could only stare.

  Rachel Sutherland must have changed her clothes because despite her tumble to the grass, her white pants were immaculate. So was her face. Her figure. Her hair. She hadn’t turned fat or ugly. In fact, she looked exactly the same. If Ralph Lauren needed a glamorous female polo model, she definitely ticked all the boxes. No wonder Alex had chosen her.

  Cassie jerked her head away. She didn’t see Alex. Nor did she want to. She just wanted to escape these beautiful people and go home with her grandfather and figure out the best way to help him retire. A way that would ensure they’d never have to live apart again.

  Next week Santiago would ride their mare and Ginger would have a brilliant game and then the college would buy Gramps’ horses and he could finally shed his responsibility. He’d never been away from his barn for more than a weekend. Had never even had a real vacation.

  He’d enjoy hanging out with her on the movie set. He’d still be involved with horses but he wouldn’t have to worry about his next customer. Wouldn’t have to get up every morning wondering if a horse would sell in time to pay the feed bill. That freedom alone would ease his stress.

  Her boss was always looking for experienced horsemen. They could compare training methods and talk about animals they’d trained and she’d no longer ache to be closer to Gramps. They’d be able to make a real home again and they’d both grow to love California. She opened her hands, determinedly pressing her sweaty palms against her jeans.

  “Mr. Edwards? Jake Edwards?”

  The voice behind them was imperious, with a slight New York accent, almost exactly as Cassie remembered. She swallowed and turned, wondering if Rachel would even recognize her.

  But the stunning woman standing in front of them stared only at Gramps. “I want to advise you that our committee will be sending official notice,” Rachel said. “Your mare is dangerous. Totally unsuitable for this game. She shouldn’t be allowed to step foot on any polo field.”

  “I’ll give his mare another chance next week,” Santiago said quickly. “She might have been a little off today.”

  “Absolutely not,” Rachel said, her cold eyes still locked on Gramps. “She almost killed me. You must take her back. Our club can’t waste time on inferior animals…or trainers.”

  Cassie jerked forward at the slur, but her grandfather grabbed her arm.

  “Let’s go, Santiago,” Rachel went on, not deigning to look at Cassie. “We have to mount now.”

  She strode away, swinging her mallet like a weapon.

  Cassie’s cheeks felt hot and it hurt to breathe. Her grandfather’s hand was digging into her arm and Santiago just stared, clearly surprised but unwilling to annoy his patron.

  “I’m sorry,” Santiago said slowly. “But it seems best if you take the mare home. We can try out your horses next year.”

  “But the college is buying now,” her grandfather said.

  “There is nothing I can do.” Santiago gave them both a dismissive nod, but his expression remain
ed shuttered, his polite smile not reaching his eyes. He turned and followed Rachel like a pet dog.

  “Don’t let those people bother you,” Cassie said, her voice quivering. “You’re a great trainer. He knows that. Rachel knows it too. We’ll find another rider. Then everyone will see how good Ginger really is.”

  “No,” Gramps said. He still held her forearm. But his grip had weakened and he seemed to be clutching her for balance rather than to restrain. “We need to take Ginger home. Rachel has too much clout. No player would dare give my horses a chance now. And I don’t blame them.”

  “But that’s not fair—” Cassie pulled in a painful gulp and stopped talking. Life wasn’t fair. She knew that as well as Gramps. And she was supposed to be the strong one now. “Of course,” she said, pasting on a reassuring smile. “We’ll take Ginger home and figure out another way. We’ll find a different polo club.”

  She glanced over her shoulder. Rachel was adjusting a knee guard while a groom knelt at her feet, giving her immaculate leather boots one last polish. She looked objective and totally focused on polo. She probably hadn’t intended to insult Gramps like that. Didn’t realize how disastrous it was to have a horse black listed.

  Maybe the situation wasn’t so bad. Santiago could talk to her. Explain that it would be a good move for him to ride Ginger. Everyone wanted the best horses for their team, and clearly the woman didn’t even remember Cassie.

  But as she considered that possibility, Rachel’s head swiveled. Her eyes locked with Cassie’s and her expression turned mocking. Despite the woman’s physical perfection there was nothing beautiful about her now. In fact, she looked downright malicious.

  Cassie stared back, refusing to be the first to look away. But despite the warmth of the sun, her skin felt cold, clammy. Because it was obvious Rachel did remember her. And it was also clear that despite Cassie’s good intentions, her presence hadn’t helped Gramps. Not one bit. In fact, it was apparent that coming home had only helped draw the ire of a very powerful and vindictive woman.