MILLIONAIRE'S SHOT: Second Chance Romance (6 page)

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.

“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.

She strode around the trailer and swung open the side door. No big deal. She’d changed plenty of tires before. And years ago Alex had shoved a trailer-aid jack in the compartment with the tire iron, the kind of ramp that lifts a trailer off the ground, making tire changing a cinch.

“Now that I’m going to college I won’t be around to help anymore,” he’d said. “And your grandfather doesn’t take good care of anything but his horses.”

There’d been a hint of disapproval in his voice and she’d punched his arm, hating any criticism of Gramps. Besides, they both knew Alex would have swapped his parents in a heartbeat for her grandfather. Gramps might be absorbed with animals but there was no questioning his love.

Alex’s parents had been totally indifferent, worrying more about their own pursuits than the welfare of their son. Until she was eight, she thought the cook was his mother. However, Alex had been a staunch and loyal friend, as generous with his time as he was with his money.

Fortunate for her, because now she was finally going to use his fancy tire-changing gadget. She’d have this tire switched in five minutes, ten max.

She pulled out the plastic ramp and positioned it on the ground. Then skimmed her phone light over the trailer, searching for the spare. Nothing on the sides. She wheeled and shone the light in every corner of the tack compartment, struggling to accept that it was empty. There was no spare tire.

“Oh, Gramps,” she whispered, her shoulders slumping.

He’d always been a little disorganized. But apparently cash was tighter than he pretended, too tight to even invest in a spare tire. And though she was struggling to save for his retirement, he refused to discuss finances, brushing away all offers of help. “Everything is fine,” he said every Sunday night when she called. It hadn’t been financial help he wanted, but her company. And she hadn’t been able to give that. Was physically sick at the thought of seeing Alex, Rachel—and their child—riding and laughing in her backyard.

But she shouldn’t have stayed away. Apparently Alex didn’t even use the south field. More importantly she shouldn’t have taken nine years to stop caring.

She dumped the tire iron and ramp back into the compartment and slammed the door. Tomorrow, bright and early, she’d go into town and buy a replacement tire. For now, she’d unhook the trailer, drive home and come back in the morning to pick up Ginger.

It was a quiet road. The trailer would be fine parked on the shoulder of the road. But a concerned voice kept niggling at her brain.
Ginger might not be.

Rachel had already demonstrated her vindictiveness. And by the time the reception ended, all the grooms would have returned to their quarters. The stable would be empty. Then Rachel could do anything to Ginger. Clearly Santiago wouldn’t stop her. Or Alex. So it was critical to move the mare out of their barn tonight, even it meant a bit of a walk.

Cassie walked around the truck and locked the doors. Leading the mare cross country would be a bit of a hike but it was a familiar route. And she was very close to the Sutherland Estate. Lights flickered over the tree tops, marking the servants’ gate. She’d have Ginger home well before midnight, and Gramps wouldn’t have to worry about his mare a day longer.

The grooms might be surprised when she showed up on foot, but they couldn’t stop her from walking off in the night with her grandfather’s horse. Nobody could.

Ten minutes later, she trudged through the unlocked servants’ entrance. She didn’t need the signs or the ornamental lights to know the barn area was another quarter mile beyond the main house. To the left of the tennis courts and behind the five-bedroom poolhouse. She couldn’t resist a nostalgic peek at the Sutherland mansion. She knew the house well, had explored almost every room and spent considerable time watching training videos with Alex there. But only when his parents were away, which was almost always.

There were no cars in front of the stately entrance but that didn’t mean anything. The ten-car garage was cavernous. Besides, he and Rachel probably hadn’t driven themselves to the reception. They would have taken a chauffeured limo, so they could drink and socialize and talk about their expensive polo ponies. And maybe even snicker at Gramps.

She jerked her head away from the house and continued along the long walkway. She’d never really known Rachel. They’d met the first summer Cassie worked as a groom for the Sutherlands. Alex had arranged it and she’d been over the moon with gratitude. Being paid to ride and look after polo ponies was a dream job.

She’d been sixteen the day Alex had driven up to the barn in his newest convertible, Rachel beside him, her long blond hair tied back with an elegant scarf. The older girl was clearly upper crust and they looked perfect together. Alex’s parents had even deigned to stay around that evening, and Cassie told herself she was happy for him because while Alex always had a string of eager girlfriends, none had ever accompanied him home from college before.

“Cass, would you please saddle Fritz for Rachel,” Alex had said.

It was then the tightness started in her chest. Because even though Alex owned Fritz, no one ever rode him but Cassie. “Don’t worry,” he said. “Rachel plays with me on the collegiate team. She’s been riding horses all her life.”

He grinned and rumpled Cassie’s hair, and Rachel’s eyes had narrowed. There’d been something dark and spiteful in their depths. And Cassie decided maybe his new girlfriend wasn’t so beautiful after all. But that summer she didn’t see Rachel again. Cassie and Alex both played at the Ponhook Club while Rachel was busy with a team in New York. And life had been wonderful.

She and Alex had both been working toward attaining a higher polo ranking. Players were ranked from a minus two to plus ten. Cassie had been a minus one goal handicap and Alex was an amazing plus four. They practiced their passing and shots at the Club as well as on the south field, and their teamwork had never been better. She enjoyed a string of four good polo ponies. Two were off-the-track Thoroughbreds, retrained by Gramps, and the other two polo ponies, Fritz and Suzy, were owned by Alex. Best of all, she earned a generous paycheck.

“You’re paying me too much,” she’d said to Alex. “You know I’d ride for pizza.”

He just grinned and slid another slice of Saturday night pizza onto her plate. “You double as my groom and exercise rider and you’re an intuitive player. You’re the real deal.” He’d affectionately tousled her hair. “Plus a girl like you doesn’t eat much.”

He never threw out compliments easily. That same morning he’d chewed her out for trying a dangerous shot. But somehow his words left her unsatisfied—just another demonstration of how he treated her like she was still a kid, even though her current boyfriend was almost his age.

“I wish you wouldn’t ruffle my hair like that,” she’d muttered. “I don’t like it.”

“Sorry, Cass,” he said, his expression unreadable. “I’ll stop.” And he never touched her hair again. Until—

Dammit, no.
She wasn’t going there. Wasn’t going to think about his hands, his mouth, how their bodies had fit together so beautifully. It was easier to remember her tears and those sleepless nights she had to jam the pillow over her face so Gramps wouldn’t hear her sobs.

Everyone at the polo club had toasted Alex and Rachel’s engagement, raving about how they were the perfect couple. A high-society family from New York with the vaunted Sutherlands of Virginia. The ideal match. Cassie had been miserable. Three weeks later, she stuffed her boots and jeans into her backpack and headed to West Virginia to work at a spa facility for horses.

Gramps had been sad she was moving but also impressed she landed such a job. “That’s an excellent establishment,” he’d admitted. “And you’ve always wanted a career with horses. It’s a good move for you.” He hadn’t seemed to realize why she was leaving. And though she never regretted her employment there—it had led to her job training horses for the films— she did regret letting Alex and Rachel drive her away.

But this situation was different. She was older and wiser now. Tougher too. And this time she wasn’t going to let anybody stop her from taking proper care of Gramps. Or his horse.

Cassie trudged past the staff quarters. Both grooms and house staff lived in the tasteful apartments, each with more floor space than Gramps’ bungalow. No one stepped out to question her presence although she caught subdued voices and the flicker of television screens as they cut the night.

Alex’s ancestors had built their first house on this spot and though it had since been remodeled for staff, she’d seen paintings of the original home in a place of honor above the staircase, alongside countless black and white photos of the first Sutherland owned railway. That early enterprise had been the foundation of Sutherland Holdings, which had equity interests in corporations worldwide.

His privileged background had never been more apparent but she’d spent a lot of time on his family estate and fortunately knew all the short cuts. Alex had always preferred to use the servants’ entrance rather than the security-coded front gate. And if she slipped around the back of the horse path and across the little wooden bridge, she’d save another few minutes of walking.

It was obvious she was close when the path changed to nonslip rubberized bricks, specially designed for equine safety. The Sutherlands were as passionate about their horses as they were about their family history.

A row of silver trailers gleamed beneath the moonlight. They were much bigger than Gramps’ two-horse budget trailer and infinitely more luxurious, with accommodations for both horses and people. She’d always appreciated the little fridge and bunks. Had loved accompanying the horses to each polo match, delighted to be working for the respected Sutherland family. Those had been the happiest years of her life.

Game day routine was imprinted in her mind. Rush over from Gramps before sunup, feed and load the horses, then drive over to the polo club. She was the only groom who played on Alex’s team, and it had been his tutelage and generosity that made it possible.

She remembered the day he’d invited her to join the team. That spring they had spent long, hot hours in the south field, practicing plays he’d learned in college and conditioning the horses. She’d gone from retrieving his balls to returning his passes, matching him stride for stride on the field.

They’d been eating pizza on her grandfather’s verandah when he casually made the announcement. “I’m hiring an extra groom for the game this weekend,” he said. “That will free you up to play with me.”

At first she’d only gaped. She knew there was an opening on the Sutherland team since his father had chosen to play in Europe, but members were either professional players or else hailed from an established polo family. Besides, everyone viewed her as a groom, or at best, a practice player. She didn’t even own four polo ponies.

“You can ride Fritz and Suzy,” Alex had said, grinning. “And your grandfather’s two Thoroughbreds will be okay. If they don’t work out, I’ll pick you up a few more.”

“So this isn’t just one game?”

“No.” His expression turned serious. “I want you long term.”

He seemed to be studying her reaction but all she could think about were the blue-blooded Club members who too often felt entitled, and would likely give up their first born to play on the Sutherland team.

“You don’t think anyone will mind?” she’d asked slowly.

“You’ll have everyone’s support,” he told her. And she knew it had been an unnecessary question. Alex was determined to make polo more open. And he might poke fun at her, but he never let anyone else tease. Once at a horse show, he’d punched a boy much older than him for ridiculing her cast-off Thoroughbred.

Reassured, she leaped from the chair, hugged his neck and then rushed out to the barn to tell her grandfather.

She hadn’t been much help to Gramps those three summers following high school. It had been exhausting, working as well as competing. And it didn’t stop after the games. The tired horses always needed to be bathed and fed, their legs wrapped, and any injuries tended. Back then, Alex had helped, working alongside her until all the animals were tucked in their stalls for the night. Her grandfather’s Thoroughbreds, purchased at rummage-sale prices, had been assigned spacious stalls and given star treatment, just like the costly Sutherland horses.