MILLIONAIRE'S SHOT: Second Chance Romance (9 page)

If she were to help him remain in his home, she’d have to sell those horses quickly. And it was vital to obtain a good price. But because of Rachel’s slander their options would be limited. The Internet was vast and far reaching. It might be possible to train the horses to jump but the animals weren’t big enough to make high-level hunters. A polo home would definitely be best—for both the animals and Gramps.

“I’ll call my boss,” she said. “He recently finished a polo film. Maybe he knows of another one that needs horses. And I’ll check with some out-of-state clubs. But first I’ll ride the other horses so I know what we have.”

“Ginger’s the best of the four,” her grandfather said. “She’d suit a high-level player. The others are solid, although Tex is a little suspicious of strange things.” He dragged a worried hand over his face. “Ginger won’t be happy alone in the barn but the old fly sheet is ripped. It’ll be a few days before those cuts are healed enough to turn her out.”

“Don’t worry,” Cassie said. “I’ll take good care of them.”

“I know. You always do.” His voice turned gruff. “And I’m very glad you moved back.”

I’m just back for a few weeks
. But there was no point reminding him. She didn’t want to add to his worry. Even though he’d only been up a few hours, dark shadows underscored his eyes. “You have a nap,” she said. “I’ll clean up the breakfast dishes when I come back in.”

“I’ll lie down for a minute,” he said, rising from the chair. “Doubt I’ll sleep.” His forehead creased as he stared out the window. “Who the hell is that kid sitting by the barn?”

Cassie rose, following his gaze. Grace sat on the ground, arms clasped around her knees. A pink backpack lay by her feet. She looked small and uncertain, but there was an unmistakable look of determination in the set of her shoulders.

“That’s Grace,” Cassie said. “Alex’s daughter.” She stepped closer to the window and scanned the driveway, both relieved and disappointed when she didn’t see a car. “It’s time for me to ride anyway,” she said. “See you at lunch.”

She pulled on her boots and stepped outside. Grace scrambled to her feet.

“Good morning,” the girl called. “I brought some ointment for Ginger. It works great on cuts. And I have a flysheet and some molasses treats, and I was really hoping you’d let me see her.”

She spoke fast and was clearly nervous, but her concern for Ginger was heartwarming. It was too bad Rachel didn’t share a fraction of her daughter’s sense of responsibility.

“Of course you can see her,” Cassie said. “Did your dad drop you off?”

“No.” Grace bent down and scooped up her backpack. “I walked across the fields. It only took twenty-three minutes. I timed it so I could get back in time.”

“In time for what?”

“You know.” Grace gave a vague shrug. “Before everyone finishes riding.”

She followed Cassie into the barn, still talking about the special ointment she’d made and how the local vet had even bought some bottles.

“This is a really cute barn,” Grace said, pausing to catch her breath. “Are those all your ribbons?”

Cassie glanced at the dusty ribbons mounted on the wall. Her grandfather had taken her to a variety of shows, both English and western, depending on the type of horses he was training. “It’s good for folks to see a little girl showing a horse,” he’d said. “And it helps to have ribbons above the horses’ stalls. It adds value.”

She hadn’t thought about how ribbons would help sell a horse and had simply enjoyed the shows, especially the times when Alex had joined them.

“They’re not all mine,” she said. “Some of them are your dad’s.” She gestured at a huge blue ribbon with the silhouette of a horse and rider leaping a fence. She remembered that weekend well. Alex’s housekeeper had been sick and his mom had been in Europe. So his father had dumped him off.

“Give him some riding lessons or something,” Mr. Sutherland had said, leaning out of his big black car and pressing a wad of bills into her grandfather’s hand. “I’ll pick the kid up on Sunday night.”

At first Alex had been grumpy about having to stay the entire weekend, but Gramps had given him their best horse to ride, and Alex had done so well at the hunter show someone had purchased the gelding on the spot. And then she was the one who was grumpy—not just because she’d been riding that horse for months and then Gramps sold him—but also because Alex was constantly beating her.

However, Alex had been a big help, even Saturday night after the show when everyone was tired and hungry. He’d lugged everything in from the trailer, wrapped all the horses’ legs, and also found a hammer and nails so he could hang the ribbons.

“Don’t you want to keep your ribbons?” she’d asked. “You won them.”

“They mean more to your grandfather,” he said, tousling her hair. “I’m glad I could help with the sale though. Did you see that kid’s face? He was sure happy with his new horse. I think your grandfather will have enough money to go out for ice cream tonight.”

She’d been ten years old and that was the day she realized Gramps didn’t sell the horses to be mean. It was how he paid their bills. And that blond kid only wanted to buy the horse because Alex looked so cool, and everyone knew the Sutherlands were great riders. The kid might not have wanted anyone to know that a little girl could ride the horse over jumps too.

“My dad rode horses at shows?” Grace’s surprised voice yanked back Cassie’s attention.

“Sure,” Cassie said. “When he was young. Before he switched to polo.” She paused. Grace was staring up at the wall, a wistful expression on her face.

“Do you want your dad’s ribbons?” Cassie asked. “You can take them home with you.”

“No, thanks. They’re not mine.” Grace wrapped her arms around her backpack and turned away. “I’ll just groom Ginger while you ride…if that’s okay?”

“Sure,” Cassie said. She hesitated a moment then headed toward the bay gelding’s stall. She’d worked with lots of children on film sets, but she’d never met one who was so polite. Or maybe Grace was just insecure. Whatever, there was something different about her. And it made Cassie want to hang around and try to make the kid relax. Which was a little surprising because she’d been prepared to resent Alex and Rachel’s child.

She tacked up Digger, grabbed a helmet and led the gelding outside. She had more important things to worry about, like helping Gramps sell his horses so he didn’t work himself into an early grave.

An hour later, she kicked her feet out of the stirrups, leaned forward and patted Digger’s sweaty neck. He was a lovely horse, responsive, keen and willing. His turns weren’t as crisp as she’d like, but tomorrow they’d go to the south field with a ball and mallet. A lot of horses woke up when they had something to chase. Either way, he’d make a solid polo pony. He wasn’t as fiery as Ginger but he’d be great for an intermediate player. As usual, Gramps had done an excellent training job.

“Did you ride looking like that?”

Cassie swiveled in the saddle, surprised to see Grace standing by the barn door. She’d thought the girl would be long gone by now.

“What do you mean?” she asked.

“You ride in jeans?” Grace stepped closer, her eyes wide with horror. “Not breeches? Not real riding clothes?”

“I sure do,” Cassie said. Sometimes she added chaps to keep her legs from chafing, but only for strenuous gallops or rough brush rides.

“But Mom says I always have to wear breeches.”

“It’s good to follow the dress rules of every discipline.” Cassie chose her words carefully. “But I work with different horses all day. Both on the ground and in the saddle. So it’s more important to be practical.”

“You mean when you work around famous movie stars, you still wear jeans?”

Cassie nodded, hiding her amusement. The girl looked aghast at the thought of appearing in public without formal riding clothes. But Grace was the daughter of a multi-millionaire. Grooms did all her dirty work and no doubt she owned rooms full of designer clothes. However, she’d already made it clear she preferred to work with horses from the ground, so breeches seemed overdressed.

Maybe Grace wasn’t afraid to ride. Maybe she’d just never had much fun with a horse. When Alex had first shown up here, he’d worn crisp white breeches and fitted shirts. It hadn’t been very long before he switched to blue jeans and T-shirts. And it was her grandfather who’d taught him to appreciate horses, and not just see them as a way to win his father’s approval.

“Want to sit on Digger?” Cassie asked impulsively. “We can walk down to the brook to cool him out, and I can give you some tips about how to train a horse for swimming.”

Grace tugged at her lower lip. “But you’d be holding him?”

“The entire time,” Cassie said. “I won’t let go of the reins.” On a hunch, she added, “And there’ll be no one around to see us. The brook is very private.”

Grace gave a thoughtful nod, more like an elderly woman than a kid. “Okay, then,” she said, turning and hanging her backpack on the hitching post. “I would very much like to accompany you and Digger to the brook.”

Alex slowed his car, waiting as a groom led a dripping horse away from the wash rack. It was almost noon and activity at the barn had slowed. No one was riding in the practice field, or the ring or on the gallop track. The horses that had competed in the polo game yesterday would have enjoyed a massage and mild limbering session, and the remaining fifteen horses had already been galloped. Of course some animals were hurt and simply needed bandaging or hand walking. Like the mare with the bloody ribs. Cassie’s horse.

His fingers tightened over the steering wheel.
She was back.
Thank God she’d taken the mare home. He didn’t want to hear her voice, or smell her hair or watch her mouth curve in that sweet smile. Didn’t want to deal with the kaleidoscope of memories…along with the painful wrenching of his heart. What they had was in the past. They’d both moved on and he didn’t need any reports or updates. In fact, he didn’t want to think about her.

She’d been in his mind yesterday though, as if subconsciously he’d been bracing for an encounter. But he hadn’t been prepared to see her charge into his barn last night, eyes flashing, fists locked. Prepared to take on Rachel and her army of staff. Cassie was so damn loyal, so brave. She’d worn that same expression when reporters swarmed the estate, clamoring to interview him after his parents’ deadly car crash.

“How does it feel to be sole heir to a fortune?” one particularly unfeeling reporter had asked. “Will you continue with the Sutherland business or kick back and enjoy being a wealthy playboy? Money must soften the blow—”

Cassie had seen the misery on Alex’s face and knocked the recorder from the man’s hand, threatening to charge them all with trespass. She’d chased them down the drive, insisting that even the servants’ entrance be locked. Then she’d sat up with him all night, listening to his bourbon-soaked ramblings while he drank himself into oblivion. She was his trusted friend, his staunch ally, the only person who understood his motivation.

His parents had never been more than squabbling figureheads, too busy pursuing their own activities to notice their only child. But he’d always thought that some day he could earn their approval, if not their attention. When he was older, smarter, wiser. Maybe when he was a better polo player or a more astute investor. But that couldn’t happen now. The car accident in Germany had shattered that hope.

Rachel had swooped in the next evening, eager to comfort him and grabbing the role of supportive ex-girlfriend. That’s probably when it had happened. He’d always been careful to use a condom during their turbulent relationship, despite her assurances she was on birth control. But somehow she’d wiggled into his bed, clearly entranced with his newfound wealth. He’d been disgusted with both of them, reminding her that their relationship had been over for months.

“We’ll see,” she’d said, giving a smug smile.

That weekend had changed his life. Not that he regretted it…much. Grace was his responsibility, his life, his joy. And he was determined not to saddle any child of his with the disinterested parenting he’d experienced. Even if it meant being stuck with Rachel and her jealous rages. He might be destined to sleepwalk through life but he could certainly stick around and protect his daughter.

He and Rachel had generally cordial relations. She presided over the house and stable, while he stuck to the poolhouse. Grace never saw them fight. Usually it worked out. But sometimes Rachel crossed the line and he had to put his foot down.

Like now.

He pressed off the ignition and stepped from the car.

“Good morning, Mr. Sutherland,” a groom called brightly. “Would you like a horse saddled?”

“Not today, thanks,” he said. He rarely rode now that Grace had quit riding, and he never lingered around the stables when Rachel was around. “Is Grace inside?” he asked.

“No, I haven’t seen her all morning. Rachel and Santiago are still here though.”

He glanced around the paddocks, rather puzzled. When he’d left earlier for a meeting, Grace had been with the housekeeper, but he’d assumed she intended to go the stables. Now that school was out, she spent all her time here, playing with the kittens and whatever horse the grooms deemed gentle enough for her to handle.

Her love for animals wasn’t surprising. Generations of Sutherlands had been raised on the estate, and they’d all possessed a deep appreciation of fine horseflesh. It was a little disappointing Grace didn’t want to ride with him anymore. He was careful not to push her, but sometimes she looked so wistful when she watched Rachel.

He remembered that look. It was the same one he’d worn when he was a kid, when all he wanted was his parents’ attention. He’d been determined to excel at everything, from schoolwork to equestrian events and eventually the family business. But they’d barely noticed. His father had been interested in Alex’s riding only as a cover for his extramarital affairs while his mother had been absorbed with luncheons, travel and her Fortune 500 friends.

Naturally, self-centered people were focused on their own gratification. He understood that now. His parents had been happier when they were pursuing their own interests…and not listening to his mundane little problems. His mother had never once asked about the horse show weekends with his father, and he’d learned to keep his mouth zipped. Keep the family intact, protected at all costs.