MILLIONAIRE'S SHOT: Second Chance Romance Read online

  At first Alex’s concerned face had looked blurry. “I’m all r-right,” she’d managed, more embarrassed than anything. He’d looked so angry and she’d been afraid he wouldn’t want to ride with her anymore if she couldn’t keep up.

  But Alex had marched right up to her grandfather. “Sir,” he said, “I don’t think it’s right to make Cassie ride your rough stock.”

  “I don’t make her,” Gramps said. “She wants to. And where do you think that horse will end up if we can’t teach him to stop bolting? Most folks can’t afford readymade horses. And this is our livelihood.” His face had turned all red and he jammed his finger into Alex’s chest, and that was when she first noticed that Alex was taller than Gramps.

  Usually Alex nodded at everything Gramps said, but that day he just folded his arms and looked stubborn. “Dad and his friends are into polo now. And I’ll be starting lessons this summer so I need my horses in shape. Cassie can work for me.”

  “But she doesn’t know anything about polo,” Gramps said. “I don’t either. So I can’t even help her.”

  “I’ll teach her. I’ll teach you both everything I learn.”

  And Alex had. He’d been a wonderful mentor. His father had flown in high-priced instructors from England and Argentina, and Alex had faithfully relayed the basics of every lesson to her and Gramps. Even when he’d been on the college team with Rachel, he’d passed on playing tips.

  She jerked her head away from the clubhouse windows. They were in there now, watching and smirking. Well, they deserved each other. Rachel was nothing more than a vindictive horse abuser and Alex didn’t care enough to step outside and say hello.

  And it no longer mattered that he’d broken her heart. And been the reason she left Gramps and the home she cherished. Right now she just wanted to get her grandfather away from these entitled snobs and move Ginger back to their safe little barn. Before Rachel had time to take another stab at their helpless horse.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Alex watched Grace take another dainty bite of pizza, swallow, then carefully wipe her spotless mouth with a napkin. “I like it best with lots of cheese, don’t you?” she asked.

  He nodded, aching at her too-careful manners. “I used to eat pizza every Saturday night,” he said. “There was a place on the south road that loaded it with so much mozzarella that the cheese stuck to the top of the box.”

  “You had pizza every week?” Grace’s eyes widened. “Didn’t that make you fat?”

  Her horror was so comical he grinned. “We rode horses all day. So we were more scrawny than fat.”

  Although he remembered returning from his third year at college and being shocked at the way Cassie filled out her T-shirt. He hadn’t been able to stop staring and resented the way her new boyfriend ogled her curves. He’d dropped by, hoping to go for a relaxing brook ride, but instead had jumped back in his Jag, muttering that he had to get back to studying for finals.

  Fortunately Grace was still a kid. It had been bad enough seeing all the boys hanging around Cassie, pushing each other aside in their efforts to impress. Her grandfather had barely noticed, but that man was oblivious to anything but horses.

  “Mom won’t go to any restaurants on the south road,” Grace said, yanking back his attention. “She says that’s where the poor people hang out. And drug dealers and prostitutes.”

  He almost choked. Hadn’t imagined Grace even knew what a prostitute was. And now he was the one to pick up a napkin and unnecessarily wipe his mouth. “What is a prostitute?” he asked, studying her face.

  “You know.” She gave a disinterested shrug. “People who sell sex for money. Mom said your father went there all the time. And that he was really mean and left you alone at some dumpy barn.”

  “I wasn’t alone. I was with the trainer I told you about, Mr. Edwards.”

  “The man who taught you to ride?” Grace perked up. “The one who said to always take care of your horse first?”

  “That’s right.”

  “Maybe Mom should have taken those lessons too,” Grace said. “But I like looking after the horses for her…and I know she appreciates it.”

  “Sure she does,” Alex said. But he doubted Rachel cared that Grace helped the grooms look after the polo ponies. She probably hadn’t noticed that their daughter could expertly bandage a horse in minutes and even mixed up her own concoctions of ointments and liniments. Grace was always grasping at straws, struggling to earn her mother’s approval. It made him ache.

  He balled up his napkin and lobbed it into the trash can. At least she had a mother. And he could compensate for Rachel’s shortcomings. He knew from the moment she gleefully announced her pregnancy that shared custody would never be an option. He didn’t trust her to look after a cat, let alone a child. But that was okay. As long as Grace was happy, he could be content.

  “Do you think Smokey would eat this?” Grace held up a piece of pepperoni tangled in a wad of cheese. “I’m worried she’s getting thin. I think the kittens are making her tired. This morning I left some lobster and she didn’t even eat it.”

  Grace was so kind, so concerned, and he couldn’t resist reaching over and giving her a hug. “I’ll call the vet and have her drop off some special cat food. The kittens are almost ready to leave for new homes anyway.”

  “Except for Socks,” Grace said. “She’s the runt and needs more attention. And you promised I could keep one.”

  “Yes, but remember, she’s a barn cat.”

  “I know,” Grace said. “We need the cats in the barn to catch mice.” But her eyes sparkled and he suspected the kitten would be firmly ensconced in the poolhouse by the end of the month. It wouldn’t be surprising if Grace grew up to become a vet. When he said she could keep one kitten, she’d chosen the tiny female that had almost died. They’d sat up several sleepless nights supplementing milk with a dropper. Now the kitten was healthy and almost as big as her brothers and sisters.

  It would have been easy to ask a groom to feed the kitten. But Grace loved having animals to doctor. Maybe he’d been over-zealous about developing her respect for animals. He certainly hadn’t been brought up that way. If not for Jake Edwards’ teachings, he would have been oblivious, tossing his reins to a waiting groom as if the horse was a disposable machine. His old man had done him a service by dropping him off at Jake’s barn, although at the time he’d been resentful.

  He hadn’t appreciated being stuck all day with a grubby little girl either, but Cassie had turned into one of his favorite playmates. His best friend. And the only woman he’d ever love.

  He abruptly scraped back the chair. Didn’t want to think about Cassie and her beautiful heart-shaped face, or to remember the hurt in her expressive eyes. Hurt he’d put there.

  He yanked some cheese from the top of the remaining pizza and pressed the box shut. “Feed this to Smokey,” he said. “Then we can go back to the poolhouse.”

  “Have you forgotten?” Grace blinked in dismay. “I can’t go to bed until the horses are home from the Club. You know I always check on Mom’s horses when she can’t do it herself.”

  Rachel never checked on her polo ponies, he thought grimly. She had the grooms do that. Sometimes she acted like the spoiled rich kid and Grace more like the responsible one. Like Cassie. And he needed to cut out any more distracting thoughts about her.

  “You’re right,” he said, rising and checking his watch. “The trailers will be back soon. Better get your bandages ready. Soon it’ll be a zoo.”

  Rachel sent a minimum of thirty ponies to every game so it took three huge trailers to ship them to the Polo Club. Each of the four players on her team rode a different horse for each chukka, although high-goal players like Santiago sometimes switched ponies in the middle of a chukka. That still left some spare horses, in case of injury. Anyway, he’d stopped paying attention. As long as Rachel was winning, she was nicer to Grace. That was all that mattered.

  Grace hurried to her tack box, all arms and legs and exci
ted energy. “I have some tiger-striped bandages for the new horse,” she said. “And a cooler to match. She’s well-trained and never pulls when she’s tied. They even let me braid her tail this morning.”

  “That’s great.” He forced a smile, waiting as she pulled out her pink backpack and rummaged for her wraps. Most of the ponies were obedient, used to being shipped and tied for long hours. And Rachel had the grooms so terrified they would never let Grace work around the more rambunctious animals. So he shouldn’t agonize about his daughter standing behind a thousand-pound horse, trying up a tail so it wouldn’t interfere with a swinging mallet.

  But his unease wouldn’t go away. He’d seen people kicked in the head before, and he hated to think of Grace’s precious face being slammed by a powerful horse wearing steel shoes. “Maybe you should leave the tails to the grooms,” he said. “Especially on polo days.”

  She pressed a bandage to her chest, eyes wide with dismay. “Don’t you think I’m good enough? Is it because of last month? When the knot came out and Mom missed her shot because of me?”

  He shook his head. It hadn’t been a loose tail that tangled up Rachel’s mallet, although she’d blamed Grace for her blunder. “You can braid a tail just great,” he said gently. “But sometimes horses kick. Even quiet ones. They know they’re going to play polo so they can be excited, easily startled. So maybe you should work around the front legs and skip the back. Just until you’re a bit older. ”

  Grace still stared with a mixture of hurt and resentment. He knew he was being over-protective, always on guard against Rachel and anything else that might harm Grace. It would have been easier to watch out for her if she hadn’t stopped riding with him. Now her sole interest was to hang out with the grooms and look after horses from the ground and, despite Santiago’s assurances, most of the animals seemed a little too spirited.

  But Grace wanted to help—needed to feel in control of something—and didn’t appreciate his hovering. Besides, he’d always stressed that horses give everything to their riders and it was important to pay it back with good care. She was just trying to do what was right. And she was forever searching for ways to please her mother.

  “I have to wrap the back legs too,” Grace said, her mouth set in a stubborn line. “Mom expects it. She likes it when I help the grooms.”

  Voices sounded from the far end of the aisle as tired horses clopped into the barn. Grace shot him a defiant look, clutched her grooming kit to her chest, then rushed out of the tack room. For a moment, her fierce expression reminded him of Cassie when she was that age, determined to do the right thing for a horse.

  It had been a hot afternoon and he’d been bored tossing rocks in the brook, waiting for his father to return from his latest mistress. He’d tried to coax Cassie into swimming with him but she’d insisted on lugging extra water to all the horses. At first he thought she was trying to impress her grandfather but it hadn’t been that at all. She simply couldn’t relax until the horses were tended to first.

  He’d helped of course, complaining the entire time, but he’d learned a lesson that day. Taught to him by a little girl who could barely carry a bucket of water without spilling it on her jeans. And Cassie had turned out okay. More than okay.

  He sighed and followed Grace toward the front of the barn. He didn’t know why he was thinking of Cassie so much lately. That door was closed and it was one that couldn’t be re-opened.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  “Poor thing.” Grace wiped the mare’s bloody sides, her hands shaking with dismay. “Mom must have lost her balance. And when she was trying to stay on, her spurs cut Ginger. Don’t you think, Dad?”

  “That’s probably what happened,” Alex said, working hard to conceal his anger. Rachel wasn’t a great rider but she was competent. It had been years since he’d seen spur marks on her horses, not since they played together on the college team. Back when he’d been blinded by her beauty, her easy availability—and he’d just been killing time waiting for Cassie to grow up.

  “We’ll help the mare heal,” he said. “She can’t be ridden for a while. She shouldn’t be turned out either. The flies would drive her crazy. She’ll need the cuts washed twice a day along with an antiseptic cream.”

  He motioned at a groom who jotted down his directions on the whiteboard. “And may I put your name on the bottom,” the groom asked, “so everyone knows this horse can’t be ridden? And that the order came directly from you?”

  Alex reached out and scrawled his bold initials beneath the notation. “What’s this mare like on the ground?” he asked the groom, keeping his voice low. “Grace wants to look after her. But is she safe enough?”

  “Absolutely.” The groom gave an emphatic nod. “She’s a sweet mare with impeccable ground manners. She only came in three weeks ago but whoever trained her did an excellent job.”

  Alex gave a relieved nod. “Okay,” he said. “Then Grace will be responsible for the mare’s care, under my supervision.”

  The groom made another quick notation, clearly delighted to have one less animal to look after and even more relieved that there’d be no backlash from Rachel, not with Alex’s initials authorizing the change.

  Alex turned back to the horse tied in the aisle. The mare would be fine but it was odd Rachel had ridden her so harshly. Grace idolized her mother and her polo skills, preferring to believe the spur marks were accidental. However, he suspected the mare had done something to rouse Rachel’s anger.

  More reason to personally look after the horse and make sure she was treated fairly. Cassie wasn’t the only one who’d been affected by her grandfather’s teachings. But dammit, he wasn’t going to let himself think about her anymore.

  “This mare’s your responsibility now,” he said, turning and smiling at Grace. “Four legs and all.”

  “Really? I can wrap and brush her tail and try out all my ointments?”

  “Yes,” he said. “You’re in charge. At least until she’s ready to ride again.”

  “How long will that be?”

  “A couple weeks.”

  Grace leaped in excitement. “Awesome! I’ve never had a polo pony to look after, all on my own before. Not without a groom watching.” Her expression turned earnest. “And maybe you should buy Mom some different spurs, the blunt kind. So this won’t happen again, you know, in case she loses her balance.”

  “Good idea,” he said. But he really intended to sit Rachel down and warn that there’d be no more polo team if she left a horse with bloody sides again. It was impossible to erase her mean streak, but as always, he’d do whatever was necessary to keep it in check.

  *

  Cassie straightened the steering wheel as the trailer bounced over a pothole, almost dragging the small truck into the ditch. There was no reason to speed and risk an accident. Receptions following the big polo games were always elaborate affairs, and she and Ginger would be off the Sutherland Estate long before Rachel and Alex returned home.

  Still, it was edging toward eight o’clock, and she wasn’t comfortable hauling her grandfather’s ancient trailer at night. Even hooking it up to the truck had been a challenge, and the patchwork plug was held together with a piece of frayed electrical tape. But Gramps had been impatient, brushing off her safety concerns.

  “Maybe I should pick up Ginger,” he’d muttered, “if you’re going to make such a big deal out of it.”

  “No problem,” she said cheerfully, refraining from mentioning that he wasn’t cleared to drive yet. “A little more tape around the wire and I’ll be ready to go.”

  Besides, it was apparent he was exhausted following the polo game. And though he’d grumbled that he wasn’t the least bit tired, he’d already headed for bed by the time she stepped into the truck with the trailer in tow.

  She drove slowly along the rutted road, using her side mirror to keep a careful eye on the trailer. Obviously Gramps’ money hadn’t gone into vehicle maintenance. The truck lights worked but it remained dark behind the tr
ailer. Reflector strips lined the back door though and it was a short drive to the Sutherlands, barely thirty minutes on the back road… Eighteen minutes if mounted and riding cross country.

  She and Alex had once completed it in an eight-minute ride that had started with a controlled trot and ended in a competitive heart-pumping gallop. She’d won the race but only because he pulled up. And he’d been on the more dependable horse and most definitely was the better rider. He’d accused her of reckless riding that day, even threatening to tell her grandfather. She knew he wouldn’t.

  Alex never tattled, even when she foolishly drank some spiked punch at the prom party and called him to drive her home. He pulled over to hold back her hair while she vomited on the floor of his immaculate car. He’d been so gentle with her that night, not so gentle with her inebriated boyfriend.

  He’d come by early the next morning too and cleaned all the stalls, knowing she’d have a hangover but that her grandfather would never notice as long as the chores were done. Alex had always been a good friend, her best friend… But now he didn’t care enough to step out of the polo club and say hello. Worse, he’d stood back and let his wife hurt Ginger, and trash Gramps.

  She spun the dial on the radio, determined to find an upbeat song and not be so affected by Alex and Rachel. They’d turned into an arrogant power couple who trampled everything, taking what they wanted, whenever they wanted. Then tossed it away like garbage. And she’d allowed them to shape her life for far too long.

  She’d been reluctant to face Alex, had avoided her home for years, and it hadn’t even been necessary. Because she no longer cared. And it was past time to leave their old memories behind, even the good ones.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  “Damn.” Cassie shook her head, staring in dismay at the flat tire. Not just flat, but shredded. The trailer had been pulling awkwardly on the last straight stretch but she’d hoped it was her imagination. On the positive side, it was better to have a flat now, when the trailer was empty, rather than when Ginger was loaded. And it wasn’t really surprising. The trailer tires were even balder than the truck’s.