MILLIONAIRE'S SHOT: Second Chance Romance

by Bev Pettersen

  “I wish we had more than three balls,” Grace muttered. “And these plastic ones are all dented.”

  Cassie blinked and pulled her attention back to the sunny field. She had to stop living in the past. Besides, thinking about all the nice things Alex had done left her softened, vulnerable. She couldn’t afford that.

  “Mom has buckets of balls in the tack room,” Grace went on. “More than she ever needs. I’ll bring some tomorrow. It would save us a lot of walking.”

  “Better not,” Cassie said.

  “But I think it’s okay.” Grace tugged at her lower lip. “Santiago won’t mind. And Mom won’t even notice.”

  Cassie shot her an appraising glance. Grace said her mom wouldn’t notice—not that she wouldn’t mind. So Grace either knew or guessed that Rachel wouldn’t be happy about sharing Sutherland polo balls. Even if they were for Grace’s lessons.

  Grace’s voice always turned so dutiful when she spoke about her mother, as if she were weighing each word. Alex had been that way too, refusing to say anything bad about his parents, even when they forgot his birthday.

  Cassie blew out a little sigh. If Alex’s parents had been more caring, he might not have married Rachel. Might not be so determined to keep Grace’s family intact. Try as she might, Cassie couldn’t help but like Grace. The girl was sweet and genuine, and when she dropped her reserve, she was excellent company.

  Cassie hadn’t been sure Grace would even show up for her lesson this morning, not after Rachel’s visit yesterday. But a stretch limo had rolled up the driveway promptly at eight. No doubt Alex was trying to ease Rachel’s jealousy by sending Grace with a chauffeur…or else Grace had pressured him to buy Digger and he was annoyed they hadn’t been allowed to purchase the horse.

  And that was okay too. She’d lived without Alex’s friendship for almost a decade. She didn’t need it now. And she certainly didn’t expect him to accompany Grace every morning.

  But somehow the day didn’t seem as much fun. She was hot and tired, and it would take awhile to find the third ball. They were often hard to spot in the taller grass behind the goalposts.

  “It’s almost lunchtime,” she said, lifting the hair off the back of her neck so the breeze could cool her skin. “You’d better call your driver. We’ll look for that last ball tomorrow. Besides, if you hit much longer, you’ll have a sore shoulder.”

  Grace gave her arm an experimental flex. “It’s fine,” she said. “And Dad’s picking me up after his meeting. So I have time to give Ginger and Digger some grass.”

  So Alex was still coming. He wasn’t that worried about pleasing Rachel. Cassie, swept by a surge of relief, let her hair fall back down. Obviously he didn’t mind that Gramps had rejected Rachel’s offer. Maybe Alex didn’t even know about it. Maybe the idea had been cooked up between Grace and her mother.

  “You understand why we can’t sell you Digger, right?” Cassie asked. “Both he and Ginger are a little too much horse for you. And so are Storm and Tex.”

  “Oh, yes, I know. Dad said I have to be patient.”

  “I wondered if you told your mother you wanted Digger,” Cassie said slowly. “That you asked her to buy him?”

  “No, I just told her I was having lessons in the round pen and that we led him down to the brook. And that you made sure I always wore a helmet and never let go of Digger. I didn’t want her to think this wasn’t a good place, you know...”

  Cassie rubbed her forehead. She’d assumed Grace had asked her mother for Digger. It didn’t make sense that Rachel would try to buy a potentially dangerous horse. Yet she’d tried to buy all four of Gramps’ polo ponies. Had made a wildly generous offer without even riding them, or having a vet check.

  Perhaps she’d just wanted to eliminate any reason for Grace to visit. Which meant her primary concern wasn’t her daughter’s happiness. It was Alex. Still, that didn’t sit right. What kind of mother would endanger her daughter just to keep her ex-husband away from an old friend?

  Rachel had showed up only an hour after Grace left, with an empty horse trailer and her limitless checkbook. Bristling with posture and purpose. And she’d been furious when she drove away. Furious but controlled.

  That type of anger didn’t settle in a day.

  “It’s really nice of you to offer,” Cassie said, “but please don’t bring any balls from your barn. We’re fine with what we have. Besides, it’s good to practice air swings with your right hand. We can end the lesson by swinging at weeds. That’s always fun.”

  She scooped up the spare mallet, determined to distract Grace from the inconvenience of having a limited number of balls. “Let’s see who can be the first to knock off twenty dandelions.” She grinned in challenge. “On the count of three.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  Alex parked in front of Digger’s paddock and stepped from his car, instantly feeling his tension ease. At home, dread wormed through him every time he neared the stable. Here, the air was serene. Even the horses looked happier.

  Digger jammed his head over the top rail, hoping for a treat. Alex paused to pat the horse. Grace’s helmet dangled from a post beside her backpack so obviously she’d finished her riding lesson. They wouldn’t have gone to the brook without Digger so they must be in the south field. Grace had mentioned she and Cassie planned to practice hitting balls on foot.

  He shook his head gratefully, scarcely able to believe Grace wanted to ride again. She was ready to have fun on a horse, even eager to learn polo. And it was all because of Cassie. She made everything fun.

  When his father first dumped him off here, supposedly for riding lessons, he’d wished his old man would have found a more upscale place. But Jake’s had been convenient, a world removed from his parents’ peers, out of sight yet close to his father’s favorite prostitutes. Alex had spent longer and longer hours here, his ‘lessons’ extending into mealtimes and then into weekends.

  The first night his dad didn’t bother to pick him up Alex had been close to tears just wanting to go home, even if it meant being alone in the big house. Jake had tossed a blanket and pillow on the sofa, then shuffled off to bed, oblivious to his misery. But Cassie had tiptoed over, her eyes solemn.

  “This is Tonto,” she whispered, placing a stuffed pony on his chest. “He’s my best friend and you can borrow him tonight.”

  The pony was worn out, one of its glass eyes was gone, and stuffing bulged from a blackened rip in its stomach. But she gave it a loving pat before slipping back down the narrow hall to her room. He knew she’d lost her parents only eleven months ago. He didn’t see his mother and father much but at least they were alive. Yet here she was, giving up her most treasured possession.

  He was way too big to need a stuffed toy. Besides, he had lots of real horses. He didn’t need a fake one. But the pony was soft and floppy and rather comforting, and the next thing he knew it was morning, and Tonto was clutched against his chest.

  And now Grace was benefiting from Cassie’s generosity, the Edwards’ spirit of inclusivity. And Rachel would just have to accept it.

  He reached into the back of his car and pulled out a thermal lunch cooler along with a bucket of balls. Polo balls were expensive and easily lost, and Jake had never owned more than a couple. The least Alex could do was make it easier for Cassie to teach.

  The front porch was empty so he strode past the little house and followed the wooded trail down to the south field. The path was overgrown and needed trimming, but he knew the way. Feminine voices bubbled from beyond the trees and his stride quickened. He recognized Cassie’s laugh but not the second one. He knew it must be Grace but didn’t recognize the sound. Probably because he didn’t hear it nearly enough.

  He stepped out from the trees, his gratitude swelling. Cassie may have been reluctant to teach Grace but they got along well. They were both laughing, heads bent over the grass as they pounded in divots with their boots. Someone had been hitting the ball, and quite vigorously.

  Cassie was the fir
st to sense his presence. She swung around, her eyes locking with his. Her hair was long and loose, framing her sweet face, and her mouth lifted in a beautiful smile. A hungry heat filled him and he ached to scoop her up and relearn the shape of her mouth. To hold her close and never let her go. To hell with worrying about Rachel’s volatile temper…or the fact that he had nothing to offer.

  “Dad!” Grace called. “I can hit the ball now. Really far. We lost the last ball in the grass though so we had to stop.”

  He dragged his eyes off Cassie’s mouth and set the bucket on the grass. “That’s great. I brought some more balls so you don’t run out. Want to show me your swing?”

  Cassie glanced down at the bucket, her smile fading. “That’s a lot of balls,” she said. “And you’re already paying too much for Grace’s lessons.”

  “Those balls are seconds,” he said quickly.

  “Dented and last year’s colors?” she asked, and now there was a hint of mischief in her voice.

  “That’s right.” He chuckled, remembering the line he’d used on her grandfather whenever Cassie needed more practice balls.

  “Okay then. Thanks,” she said. “We’ll try not to lose them.”

  And when she gave him a grateful smile, his chest flooded with a warmth he hadn’t experienced in years. She always made him feel like that: appreciated, alive, happy.

  Grace had already grabbed the bucket and dumped out a stream of balls. “Watch this, Dad.” She took up a stance in front of the goalposts, clearly confident in her ability. She looked like such a normal kid and Cassie looked so proud. And he couldn’t stop smiling. At Cassie, at Grace then back at Cassie again.

  “She’s doing great,” Cassie whispered. “She wants to try hitting the ball from a horse tomorrow. A scare now wouldn’t be good though. And Digger is used to chasing balls at speed.”

  He couldn’t stop staring at Cassie, re-absorbing her face, the little dimple in her left cheek, the way a smile teased her lips when she spoke. She used to have a tiny scar at the top of her forehead, courtesy of one of her grandfather’s crazy horses, and he felt a flare of panic when he couldn’t find it.

  Then the wind lifted a tendril of her hair and there it was, precisely where it was supposed to be. He remembered his horror when he saw the blood streaming from her head and thought he’d lost her. He couldn’t let her leave again. And though she would never admit it, he could tell she wasn’t happy in California. And then her lips weren’t moving anymore and he realized she was waiting for him to speak.

  “Grace definitely isn’t ready to ride Digger with a mallet,” he said, his voice gruff.

  “Then why try to buy him?” Cassie asked, her dimple no longer in sight. “Rachel came by yesterday. She wanted to buy him, all four horses actually. And I thought we agreed Digger isn’t right—”

  “Hang on.” He blinked in shock. “Rachel? She came here?”

  “Yes, with a trailer. You didn’t know?”

  “No. But we don’t talk much.” He set the lunch bag on the grass, hating to think of Rachel anywhere near Cassie.

  “I’ll make sure she doesn’t come by again,” he said, and he was swept with such a well of protectiveness he reached out and wrapped his arm around her. And then his other arm rose and he impulsively tugged her into his chest. He just needed to hold her close, just for a few seconds. Just wished he could turn back time.

  He squeezed his eyes shut, inhaling her scent, her sweetness, and wanting her with every fiber of his being.

  “I’m so sorry, Cass,” he whispered, and they both knew he was talking about more than Rachel’s visit. His hand brushed the tips of her silky hair and he had the overpowering urge to tilt her head and find her mouth.

  He glanced over her head, checking that Grace wasn’t watching, but already Cassie pushed at his chest. He dropped his arms and let her twist away, and they both pretended absorption with Grace hitting the ball. And he couldn’t think of a single damn thing to say.

  “I brought lunch,” he said.

  “No, thanks. I’ll grab a sandwich from the house. You’re a better shot than me anyway. You can give Grace some pointers.”

  “But I’m paying you.”

  “Don’t do that,” she said. “Please.”

  “All right.” He gave a casual shrug, but hated his sense of panic. She was in total control here. Just her simple ‘please’ was enough to turn him to jelly. It always had been.

  He’d cut an important meeting short, bullied some business partners into submission, just for the chance to sit on the grass and hear her laugh. And he didn’t want her toiling in an airless kitchen, worrying about preparing meals for her grandfather after she’d worked so hard teaching his daughter. All he’d ever wanted was to look after her, to be a part of her life, and those old feelings had returned in full force.

  He scooped up the lunch cooler, pretending to stagger from its weight.

  “Tons of good food here,” he said. “Some freshly baked bread your grandfather would like…when he wakes up from his nap. Also some smoked salmon, chocolate éclairs and even some white wine.”

  She tilted her head, and he could see her weighing the uphill walk back to the house along with the knowledge that she’d have to tiptoe around the kitchen so as not to wake her sleeping grandfather.

  “Those are some of my favorites,” she admitted.

  “Indeed.” He quickly opened the cooler. “What a coincidence.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  Cassie stretched out beneath the shade of an oak tree, eyes closed, drowsy from the food and wine. The smoked salmon was a delicious surprise and this spot had always been the perfect place to steal a nap. Far from the endless chores that accompanied the privilege of horse ownership.

  The chirping of birds mingled with the muted sound of Alex’s and Grace’s voices and the occasional crack of a ball against a mallet. Everything felt normal, and so right.

  Like Gramps, she also felt more secure when Alex was around. She let herself drift away, content that for now everything in her world was perfect.

  A persistent fly tickled her cheek. She reached up, vainly trying to brush it away. And heard Alex’s low laugh.

  Groaning, she opened her eyes. “You always were a tease. Never letting me sneak naps down here.”

  He grinned, dropped the blade of grass and stretched out beside her, so close his arm brushed her shoulder. She knew she should keep more space between them but she was too content, too sleepy…too happy. She’d probably eaten too much for lunch. She definitely had enjoyed her share of wine.

  “Grace wants to hit some more balls,” he said. “And you looked too peaceful lying here alone.”

  “She might have a sore arm if she keeps practicing.”

  “I showed her a few other drills. But she’s reluctant to follow my advice. Doesn’t seem to think I’m qualified enough.”

  Cassie laughed. Alex was a much better player than she’d ever been. Polo players were graded on an international scale, and he was a four-goal handicap, as opposed to her minus one. Even a professional like Santiago was only ranked two goals higher than Alex. And she didn’t want to ask questions, didn’t like her growing interest in his life, but the words spilled out anyway. “Why in the world did you stop playing?” she asked.

  “It was no fun without you.”

  She twisted, guessing he was joking. But he wasn’t smiling. His chiseled face looked more thoughtful than anything.

  “And I despised the Club’s elitist direction,” he added. “It’s become very exclusive.”

  “Maybe you’ll play again.” She flattened her head back against the grass and closed her eyes. “Now that Grace is interested. You, Rachel and Grace can even play in the family tournament.” She waited, hoping to hear him say he’d never want anything to do with Rachel.

  “I have to find Grace a horse first,” he said.

  She was glad her eyes were closed. Relieved he wouldn’t see her disappointment. Because against all rea
son, she’d dared to hope. Obviously there was a good explanation why he’d never called. He simply didn’t care enough.

  “I had a message from my boss,” she said, her voice completely level. “He has a gelding that might be suitable. Was used for some polo scenes last year and knows the game. He was also a stand-in on a couple movies and short films. Might be a good horse for Grace…and Santiago could teach her.”

  “Horses actually have stand-ins?” Alex’s chuckle was quick and amused, and he totally ignored her comment about Santiago.

  “Four horses played Reckless in the racing movie,” she said. “Dan said this gelding is adaptable so they kept him around thinking they could use him on another polo movie. But he doesn’t have enough speed.”

  “Grace would be ecstatic to have a horse that was in a movie,” Alex said. “Do you think he’s quiet enough?”

  “He worked on movie sets so he’s used to commotion. But if he’s trained to rear or do other stunts, he could be dangerous.”

  “Can we look at him? Where’s the horse now?”

  “At the Three Brooks Equine Center in West Virginia. Too far. I can’t leave Gramps that long.” She gave a little shrug. She’d love to visit her old workplace and the horse might be perfect, but it was over a thousand miles away. And while she wanted to help Grace and Alex, her grandfather took precedence.

  “No problem,” Alex said. “We can take my plane.”

  He spoke about taking his plane like most people talked about taking their car. But his parents had always owned a private jet. Naturally he had one too. “Sometimes I forget how wealthy you are,” she admitted.

  “One of the many things I love about you, Cass.”

  His voice sounded odd and she tilted her head, checking his expression. His face was mere inches away and he was looking at her so tenderly it made her breath stall. His gaze dropped to her mouth and the color of his eyes changed, darkened. The air crackled. Even the birds silenced as if alarmed by his intensity.

  She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. Could only feel.