Off to the Races: A Small Town Enemies to Lovers Romance (Gold Rush Ranch Book 1)
Off to the Races: Chapter 31

I stare at the computer screen not even really seeing it. All I can see is Billie riding up to the barn, a devastating repeating loop that I can’t escape.

Earlier I had watched Billie and DD walk to the barn. She looked achingly beautiful in the tack, so natural and at ease. There’s nothing fake about her when she’s with a horse. Her hips swayed in perfect sync with his languid gait and the sun glinted off the long chestnut braid that’s slung over one shoulder from beneath her helmet.

I’d been entranced by the sight of them until I looked at her face. Tears. They glistened there on her defined cheek bones. Sᴇaʀ*ᴄh the (ꜰind)ɴʘvel.nᴇt website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

I did that.

I rest my head in my hands and rub at my eyes, hoping it might help me see the way forward. It’s impossible not to ask myself if I made the right decision. I look back up at the screen in front of me, and the contract Stefan Dalca sent over yesterday. The one I’ve been avoiding signing for almost twenty-four hours now.

Twenty million dollars.

An insane number, to be sure. But is it worth it? I know what Billie said about making that in breeding fees if he were to win the Derby is true. People pay a million dollars a dose for winning studs. And if he produced winners, possibly even more.

I know it’s stupid, but at this moment, I don’t care about the money. I have more than I need. I don’t even specifically care about the horse right now. He’s a good horse, but in my mind there are lots of good horses.

There’s only one Billie.

I love Billie, and I lost her by my actions. She spilled her guts to me about her family. About her feelings. She told me flat out what kind of behavior she couldn’t abide. And then I turned around and did just that.

I keep hoping I can think of some way to make her understand, to turn her to my side. Some way to keep her and clear my grandfather’s name. Some way to have it all. Usually, I can work these kinds of things out. I turn on the charm and present a plan that’s appealing to all parties involved. But that’s not working for me here. No matter which way I spin it, I’m coming up blank.

Billie doesn’t fit into the box I can usually push people into. She’s a psycho kangaroo that jumps all over the goddamn place. And I love her for it.

What a fucking mess.

Rather than sitting here like a lovesick creep, watching her through the window, I should have talked to her. But I didn’t know what to say or do to fix this. I don’t have experience with this.

Hank walks past my office door without stopping. “Hey,” I call out. “Hank, come back for a sec.”

A moment later, he pops his head into my office, looking downright grim. “What’s up, Boss?” His hand taps the doorframe.

“I… ” My resolve falters. What do I even say here? “I need some advice.”

He grunts in response and narrows his eyes at me. “Let me stop you right there.” He takes a few steps into the room and closes the door behind himself before pinning me with a downright frightening look. “Billie is the closest thing I’ve ever had to a daughter. And she’s out there right now sobbing in that horse’s stall. I know horses move on. Billie does too. But this isn’t about the horse, it’s about you.”

His index finger jumps in my direction and for a moment I see Hank as the stereotypical farm dad sitting on the front porch rocker with a big gun on his lap.

And I’m the poor fool who broke his daughter’s heart.

“Listen, Vaughn. I’m proud to work here at Gold Rush Ranch. I respect you. But I love Billie. So right now, watching my girl’s heart break, I can’t say that I like you very much. I’ll get over it. So will she. But you…” He shakes his head solemnly and, “Well, I’m afraid that it’ll be too late when you finally come to your senses, and then she’ll be the one you never get over. All you’ll have left is more money that you don’t need and the memory of a dead man who wanted nothing but the best for you.”

My chair creaks as I lean back and run my hand through my hair. “Thanks, Hank,” I say on a ragged exhale. He just knocked all the excuses straight out of my head.

He gives me a quick salute before leaving. “Anytime, Boss.”

I’m reminded of taking a baseball to the chest as a teenager. That’s what this feels like. A sharp, deep, ache that takes my breath away. Followed by shame. Shame that hits me hard and fast, like a wrecking ball—it threatens to knock me right off my feet. I grip the edge of my desk to keep myself upright. I swear I feel her pain lance right through me.

I did this.

But I’m out of my depth. I drop my head onto the desk and stare at the floor beneath my feet, trying to put the pieces together. I’ve been solely focused on fixing my family’s reputation. I think of my mom, my brother… my dad. All people who deserve better than what my grandfather left us with. The ability to fix all that is within my grasp.

But at what cost?

I turn the music up loud and drive straight to downtown Vancouver, to my brother’s office. I’ve been putting off going over financials with him for days, and it seems like the perfect mindless thing to do myself. And with the perfect person. Cole is a former soldier, so he isn’t going to sit me down and talk about my feelings. He’s going to talk numbers and respond to my questions in grunts and dirty looks.

Which is exactly what I need.

Pushing through the glass doors of the lobby, I give Mack, our long-time security guard, a wave and head up to the top floor.

Everyone at head office is happy to see me—unlike at the farm. Smiles. Waves. Even a handshake or two, followed by a “Good to see you!”

Their kind greetings just make me uncomfortable.

I don’t deserve this kind of welcome. Do they have any idea what I’ve done? What kind of person I’ve become?

My inner guilt rears up, and I try to shake it off as I stride through the modern office towards my brother’s door.

I waltz right in without knocking. Something I know will agitate him. Little brothers have to still be little brothers, you know? It doesn’t matter that I’m twenty-eight. Poking the bear can still make me giggle like a child. Internally now, though. Not out loud. Plus, I feel like shit. Have to get my kicks in where I can.

Cole’s perfectly coiffed black head snaps up in my direction. “Sure, Vaughn. Come on in. It’s not like I could be doing anything.”

I flop into the comfortable chair facing the big, imposing desk. A smile touches the edges of my mouth. “What could you possibly be doing in here that requires privacy?”

“Maybe my secretary is blowing me under this desk right now,” he deadpans. Cole hardly ever makes jokes, and when he does, they’re shocking and meant to make you feel uncomfortable.

That shit doesn’t work on me. “Great. I’ll let mom know that her recluse of a son is one step closer to making her one of those grandbabies she wants so badly.”

He shakes his head at me and stacks up the pages in front of him. Knowing I’ve got him there, I press on. “Let’s go over those financials you’ve been bugging me about.”

Cole says nothing as he continues to organize the top of his desk with military precision. I swear to god he cleans this thing with a toothbrush or whatever it is they make them do there. Unlike my desk, which I sometimes like to refer to as a “creative space,” his office is spotless and neurotically organized. Nothing out of place.

He’s still giving me the silent treatment a couple minutes later, forcing me to sit here and watch him in silence. I can never tell if Cole is unbothered by the quiet or purposely doing it to give himself the upper hand. It’s like he knows it makes me twitchy.

My knee bounces as I watch him methodically organize his space and ignore me. I hate it when he does this power trip shit. It makes me feel like I’m at the principal’s office. I guess this is my repayment for not knocking.

With an exasperated sigh, I huff out, “Cole. We crunching those numbers, or what?”

He gives me a disapproving look, but he doesn’t look away this time. He really looks at me and I swallow under the intensity of his gaze. His cunning gray eyes scan my face and trail down to my collared shirt and jeans. After enough ribbing from Billie, I’ve finally given up the dream on wearing a suit around the ranch, and Cole doesn’t miss this change. He’s analyzing me and it’s fucking unnerving.

“You know how I stayed alive in Iraq?”

“Bored your enemies to death?” I quip, trying to lighten the mood. He almost never even references his time in Iraq. But he doesn’t take the bait.

“Attention to detail.” His eyes narrow as he gives me a finger gun. “And you, brother, are acting and dressing fucking weird.”

I scoff and look away. “I’m fine.”

“You expect me to believe you showed up here willing and eager to go over financials? In jeans? I usually have to chase your pretty-boy ass down and force you to go over this stuff with me. Stop lying.”

A breath I didn’t even realize I’d been holding rushes past my lips on a deep exhale. I run my fingers through my hair and look up at the ceiling. “It’s that fucking horse.”

“The twenty million dollar one?”

“One and the same.” I steeple my hands under my chin as I look back at my brother. “It’s just proving to be complicated.”

“Why?” Suspicion seeps into his tone.

“I may have failed to mention there was another condition of his purchase. One that Billie is aware of and… not impressed by. Now I’m all turned inside out and second guessing myself.” I shake my head. “Over a woman.”

“Vaughn. We both know Dalca doesn’t play by the rules. What’s the condition?”

My heart pounds in my chest. Having to say it out loud feels different than just knowing about it. Presenting the idea to one of the most moral men I know, makes me feel greasy. Dirty. “Twenty million and he goes to the media with proof that grandad wasn’t actually fixing races.”

Cole gives me the glare he gave me when we were kids, the one he’d only pull out just before he beat my ass. The way his broad frame almost vibrates now makes me think he might do it again, and while I might have a couple inches on him in height, I still know I won’t stand a chance.

His voice is quiet, and his words are sharp and perfectly enunciated when he finally speaks, “Why the fuck would you make a deal like that? With a snake like Stefan Dalca?”

“To clear grandad’s name—our name.”

“Your sense of duty is ass-backwards.”

I groan and lean back in defeat. Not a single person seems to agree with me, and when you’re the only constant in an equation, consider the fact you might be the problem.

And it’s looking more and more like I’m the problem.

“Lose the rose-colored glasses, kid.” His voice is louder now, rougher. “Time to stop living in pretty-fairy-tale-land where everything always turns up Vaughn. We all loved Dermot, but the man fucked up. He made poor decisions. Consciously. You think I spent years in special operations to not do a little research on what went down with him? He did it. Plain and simple.”

“I know,” I mutter.

He barks a disbelieving laugh. “You’re telling me you know he’s guilty, but you still dove headfirst into a shady backwater deal to fabricate his innocence? In exchange for a boatload of money and the only good thing that’s happened to that business, and you, in years?” He’s shaking his head at me now, incredulous at my confession. “I know you’ve spent years perfecting the shiny veneer of this family’s reputation but, good god, Vaughn. This is real life, not a PR fix.”

Jesus.

“When you put it like that…” I trail off. What the fuck have I done?

Cole must miss the shell-shocked look on my face because he just carries on berating me, “You’re going to blow the most genuine relationship you’ve had in your entire adult life to stage a coverup?” He laughs cruelly and, in this moment, I hate him for how right he is. “Billie Black might be the most insane and annoying woman I’ve ever met in my life, but at least her moral compass is intact.”

“Fuck.” I lean forward and cradle my face in my hands. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

“Yup.” Cole leans back in his leather chair, still shaking his head at me. Like he can’t believe what an idiot I’ve been. He barks out a laugh. “I thought I had the market cornered on being emotionally stunted. Stop trespassing, little brother. You’re supposed to be the sweet one.”

“Funny. Like… hilarious.” All I can hear is the sound of blood rushing in my ears. What have I done?

“What do I do?”

“You tear that contract up and you beg.”

After Cole laid me out with that verbal ass-kicking, he still forced me to go through the financials for the farm with him. Sadistic bastard that he is.

I venture into my downtown condo, thinking I might stay the night. But it feels too modern and sterile compared to the warm wood and dated appliances that fill the cottages on the ranch. It feels wrong. Too excessive for one person. I don’t belong here anymore. So, I leave. It’s late, but I don’t care. I have to talk to Billie. I have to apologize.

But not before I stop at the bank of mailboxes. It’s been months since I’ve come here, since I started hiding out at the ranch, and there’s a notice saying they’ve started leaving my mail with the concierge. I unlock the box and groan at how full it is.

Carrying the stack with both hands, I plop down on the tufted bench in the lobby to sort through it before I leave. There’s junk mail, bills, a wedding invitation from someone I barely know, and then I pause. An envelope with my grandfather’s neat, slanted script addressed to me is the last piece of mail left.

My hands tremble. It suddenly feels too heavy to even hold up, and far too daunting to open. I rest my hands on my legs and bounce my knee as I stare back down at the envelope, frozen by indecision. Why would my grandfather send me mail? I talked to him on the phone all the time.

I consider throwing it away, cutting my losses and forgetting it ever happened. And then I forge on, tearing at the envelope and shaking my head at myself for considering being such a goddamn wimp. I pull the folded paper out and it shakes in my hand as I read.

Vaughn,

I’ve always been better at explaining myself in writing. So here goes nothing.

Watching you grow up has been one of the greatest joys of my life, playing a part in your story—an honor. I cherish the years we’ve spent together, just the two of us, no matter the circumstances that got us there.

I admire the man you’ve grown up to be. I see a lot of your dad in you, all the best parts mixed up into an absolute blessing of a boy. When he died, becoming your caregiver was my salvation. And when your grandmother Ada passed, the ranch was my escape, my focus. A goal. She always dreamed of winning big prizes with her thoroughbreds. Derbies, Cups, Plates, and in her wildest dreams she’d muse about winning the Northern Crown. I still remember the night we laid in the back of my old pickup truck and I promised her we would do it. That if we worked hard enough and stuck together, we could make anything happen.

But as you know, cancer had different plans. She didn’t get to see her dreams realized. A damn shame if you ask me—a crime. And even though she was gone, I spent every day working to make her dreams come to fruition.

I was seeing my years fall away. My time to deliver on that promise I made in the truck bed all those years ago was slipping through my hands like sand. I got scared, and what’s worse is I let my fear steer me towards choices that have betrayed her memory more than honored it.

I guess that’s why I couldn’t think of a way to tell you this to your face. I guess I’m too big of a coward. I don’t want to be there to see the disappointment in your eyes or hear it in your voice. Because what I’ve done is a betrayal.

In the coming weeks you’re going to see my name—our family’s name—in the news. I’ve made some bad choices, Vaughn. I’ve been around too long, made too many connections, become too sure of what money can do for me. Of what it can fix. But I can’t buy my way out of this one. And even if I could, it wouldn’t be the honorable thing to do.

Trying to play god with the sport that I love, that my beloved Ada loved, is my crime. You’ll find out soon that several big races in the past few years have been fixed. I made the play, and I benefitted. But not enough to make the moral lapse worth it. There is nothing that is worth sacrificing our family’s dignity and reputation this way, and for that I am deeply sorry.

I don’t know if you’ll ever be able to forgive me, but I ask that you take some time. Days. Weeks. Whatever you require, and then please come visit me at the ranch. I want to see you, to explain myself and my actions in person. To give you a hug if you’ll still let me.

My door is always open.

I’ll always love you, Vaughn.

Your Grandpa,

Dermot

Billie’s little log house is dark when I pull up. She’s either asleep or not at home, but I walk up to the front door and knock anyway.

I have to talk to her.

I knock again. “Billie! It’s Vaughn.” When a light turns on, hope bubbles up in my chest. In the quiet night, I can hear her footfalls as she makes her way down the stairs. But the door doesn’t open.

“What do you want?”

That spot just in front of my armpits aches with the need to hold her. To fold her slender body into my chest. Because Billie needs protection. She’s had too many assholes in her life, and I’m kicking myself for being one of them. Even for just a few days.

“Open the door, babe. I need to talk to you.” My voice comes out strangled and my fingers itch to touch her. I press a palm flat onto the polished pine door, wishing I could reach right through it.

She’s quiet for a few beats. “You should go.”

“Billie,” I squeeze my hand into a fist and lean on the door, “I want to explain. I want to apologize. I want you… us.”

She doesn’t respond, but I hear her soft crying on the other side of the door and thump my fist on it again. “Shit. Please. Open the door. I hate listening to you cry. I’m so fucking sorry.”

“It’s not enough. I can’t do this again. I promised myself I wouldn’t. You can’t drag me into this now that I’m finally free.” A broken sob bursts out of her like a gasp. “It’s just cruel.”

My urge to comfort her is so strong, I actually wonder if there’s a way to rip the door right off its hinges to get to her. I crumple onto the deck, trying to stay with her even if we’re separated by the slab of wood. “Tell me how to fix this. I’ll do anything.”

“You can’t fix it. You broke my trust. I know this must be hard for someone like you to fathom, but sometimes when you break a toy you can’t just rush out and buy a new one.”

“I just want a chance to prove how much I care about you, Billie.”

She laughs sadly. “If you cared about me, you wouldn’t be selling my horse. You wouldn’t be making this deal. There’s a reason they say that two wrongs don’t make a right.”

The lights shut off. I don’t even know what to say to her parting words, so I just sit on the porch, looking out at DD’s empty paddock.

She’s a hell of a lot more than a toy to me. But she’s also not wrong; I’m absolutely unaccustomed to not getting what I want. Which is exactly why I’m not about to give up.

I fire Hank off a text as I jog back to my car.

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