Off to the Races: A Small Town Enemies to Lovers Romance (Gold Rush Ranch Book 1)
Off to the Races: Chapter 33

I blink fast, testing my eyes, trying to figure out why Violet is sporting the golden Gold Rush Ranch silks. The silks that look so pretty against the coal-black horse, rather than the bright green.

The speakers buzz back to life. “Ladies and gentlemen, we’ve had a somewhat unconventional change to our lineup today.” The pulse point in my neck throbs, and I wrap my hand around my throat to feel it pulse beneath my fingers as I stare out at the track. “Number eight, formerly raced under the name Double Diablo and owned by Gold Rush Ranch, has just submitted a change in name and ownership.”

What the fuck? I thought this was done already.

“Please note in your programs that number eight is now registered under the name Mister Black.” My mouth goes dry, my tongue like sandpaper. That’s what I’d jokingly told Vaughn I’d name him months ago. What the fuck kind of sick joke was this?

“And the colt is now both owned and trained by Miss Billie Black.”

Despite all the noise and people around me, all I can hear is the sound of my breathing. All I can do is stand here, frozen in shock, while the world continues to spin around me. All I can look at is my horse heading towards his gate.

This has to be a joke.

The hand I have wrapped around my throat feels clammy against my sensitive skin as I turn to look around myself. I want to tell someone. I have questions. But no one here knows me. No one around me understands what just happened.

Turning back towards the track, I feel a familiar sting across the bridge of my nose as I sniffle and press my lips together.

Owned and trained by Miss Billie Black.

This must be a mistake. Because I sure as shit have not purchased any twenty-million-dollar horses lately. How could this happen? Even if I accessed my long-forgotten trust fund, I couldn’t make this happen, not even close.

I feel hot, even though the air beneath the shadow of the grandstand is cool. I can’t peel my eyes off the starting gate as the horses step in one by one. It feels like everything is happening in slow motion. Like this is some sort of insane dream that I will wake from any moment now.

Who am I kidding? My subconscious couldn’t have come up with a scenario like this on its best day.

The crowd goes quiet and I’m still in a confused daze when the bell rings out and the gates fly open. “And they’re off!”

I stand rigid, gripping the white fence railing for dear life as I watch the black bullet I’ve spent the better part of this past year pouring my heart and soul into. He draws back off the line, like always, shying away from the sounds and rush of horsepower all around him.

All twelve teams thunder past, and I see Violet’s gloved fingers offer a small reassuring scratch at his neck as they find their pace towards the back of the pack. She’s cool in the irons, calm like a rookie jockey has no business being.

They’re off to a good start.

They hang back through the clubhouse turn and move forward through the second stretch. But they get stuck. There’s no path through the middle of the pack and the horses are running wide, rallying for position down the straightaway.

“Fuck,” I mutter. There’s nothing open. Nowhere for them to go. Unless…

Violet stands taller in the irons, shifting her weight imperceptibly to the left. She wouldn’t really take him in on the rail, would she?

DD’s inside ear flits forward like an arrow in response to her change in balance. He sees the opening that she’s shown him, and he’s already heading that way. Picking up speed. Pushing in towards the rail.

I want to look away, but I can’t. He’s completely boxed in. Anxiety clogs my throat. There are no other options, but this isn’t ideal. Far from it.

Heading into the far turn there are four horses ahead of him, he’s running three wide, and there’s a whole pack behind him. I bite at my bottom lip and tap my fingers against the railing. He’s going to be stuck there, right to the finish line. Fuck.

This isn’t good.

But as soon as they start to round the second bend, Violet leans low and shoves her hands forward at him. She hits the gas. My instincts say it’s too early, but nothing about this race has been perfect from a strategic standpoint.

DD flattens his ears like a small but mighty warhorse and launches out of that corner like a cannon, towards me.

My hand shoots up to stifle a small gasp as he blows past the horses beside him. Violet takes him wide around the four front runners. It’s cost her some ground to give him a clear lane to the finish line but, provided he doesn’t run out of gas, he should be able to sprint down the final stretch.

My left hand joins the right, over my mouth, as I watch DD fly down the track.

Stefan Dalca’s flashy bay horse is in the lead. But DD is gaining on him rapidly. Where the other horses are starting to tire, DD’s fiery attitude is pushing him harder. Faster.

He smokes them all.

He and Vi fly towards the finish line, in sync, both laid out flat. Wild eyed and determined.

I feel the ground shake beneath my feet as they thunder past. The flash of the camera momentarily blinds me as I watch them blow past.

They did it!

The next closest horse is a couple seconds behind. Violet and DD outclassed the field in every way possible.

My god. He won!

My chest aches and the sting in my nose comes back in full force. But this time it’s accompanied by wetness streaking down my face, over my hands that are still plastered over my slack-jawed mouth.

The crowd is loud. Some cheering and some booing, but that doesn’t stop me from hearing, “Congratulations, Miss Black.”

I spin around to face that voice I know so well. Deep and smooth. The voice I’ve played in my head and that’s haunted me in my dreams.

“Your horse ran beautifully,” Vaughn continues, looking downright edible in a gray suit.

I drop my hands and hold them wide in shock. “But… how?”

“I sold him to you,” he says, stepping closer. Like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“I don’t have that kind of money, Vaughn.”

He smirks at me, looking cocky. “I found a dollar in your grooming stall. I took that in trade.”

“You sold me a derby winner for one dollar?” Disbelief seeps into my voice. Is he fucking crazy?

He shoves his hands into his pockets and rocks back on his heels. “Yup.”

I stand there, gaping at him. Utterly bewildered. “Why on earth would you do that?”

He takes another tentative step towards me, coming almost toe-to-toe. “You told me I couldn’t fix this unless I didn’t sell your horse. And so that’s exactly what I did… or didn’t do. Whatever. The gist of it is, he’s yours.” A tired sigh whooshes out of his chest. “I couldn’t bring myself to sign the contract. I knew that while I had already broken your trust, I didn’t have to break your heart by selling your horse.”

He reaches towards my waist before thinking better of it and snapping his hand back. His eyes dart down before meeting mine again. “I want you. And there’s no price on that. The money. The horse. None of it matters so long as you give me a chance to earn your trust back.”

I scoff, not prepared to let him off so easily.

He runs his fingers through his dark hair, with that edge of agitation I get off on, before he sighs. “I love you, Billie. And I’m an idiot. I obviously don’t know much, but I know that both of those statements are true.” S~ᴇaʀᴄh the ꜰindNʘvel.ɴet website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

Did I just hear him right? “You,” I point at him, “love me,” and then I point back at myself.

He barks out a disbelieving laugh. “Yes. I love you. I’m pretty sure I’ve loved you since that day you marched onto my farm, dressed me down, and then demanded extra pay for having a great ass.”

“Huh,” I say, propping my hands on my hips. I’m honestly at a loss for words. We stare at each other in awkward silence for several seconds before I blurt out, “I can’t believe you actually named my horse Mister Black. It makes me sound like a total nut.”

He blinks once, slowly. “That’s… what you have to say to me?”

He’s so good looking, and he looks so bewildered right now. It’s an excellent combination, I think. I can’t help the smile that touches my lips as I look away across the crowd and say, “Kiss me, Boss Man.”

That hand that stuttered moments ago shoots out to palm my waist as he pulls me towards him. There’s no hesitation now. And he’s like the sun, I can’t help but be pulled into his orbit.

His thumb strokes my jaw while his fingers grip my neck. I sigh and lean into the feel of his hands on my body. In public, with clothes on, it feels like sparks dancing across my skin no matter what.

When he drops his head towards mine, I lick my lips, wetting them, so I can feel his breath dance across my mouth as he moves in.

When he’s close enough that it feels private, when his broad shoulders envelope me, I whisper my own secret against his lips, “I love you too, Vaughn Harding.”

The edges of his shapely, wicked lips tip up in satisfaction. And then he kisses me. With one hand on my hip bone and the other gliding down over my throat, he pours all that love right into me. I can feel it in the way he moves against me. His lips tease mine in the most careful and delicious way. In a way that makes my cheeks burn and my thighs press together. In a way that sends shivers down my spine and tingles across my hips.

I hang on to the lapels of his jacket for dear life. Letting his passion soothe my tortured soul like a balm. Like an antidote. Wishing we were somewhere more private right now. That we didn’t have a winner’s circle to get to.

Because my horse won the derby. Somebody fucking pinch me.

When he finally pulls back a bit, he holds me close and rests his forehead against mine. We’re both a little breathless as he looks me in the eye and promises, “I’ll always choose you, Billie.”

And I smile.

Because I believe him.

After the whirlwind that is the winner’s circle and never-ending interviews, I feel like I’m drunk. The kind of intoxication where your vision goes wonky and time flies because you just feel like you’re spinning in circles meeting people and talking. I can’t even tell you what I’ve said.

The entire day has officially broken my brain. I am mush.

Which is why when Vaughn slides his warm hand down my forearm and then grips my trembling fingers in his, I don’t protest. I let him lead me away from the media circus, away from the throngs of people and reporters loitering around. I expect him to take me up to the stuffy VIP lounge, but he turns left and heads towards the Gold Rush Ranch bank of stalls. His thumb draws small reassuring circles on my palm as he walks me down the aisle towards where DD usually stays.

He pulls a rectangular hay bale down off a stack of them and plops it right in front of my horse’s stall and then points at it. “Sit.”

I’m too dumbstruck from the day to even argue with him. I take a couple of steps on wooden legs before sitting on the bale and exhaling. I put my head down low between my knees and try to take some cleansing breaths, try to get my bearings a bit. I feel like I’m in the fucking twilight zone.

“Here.” I look up to see Vaughn holding out a folded piece of paper to me. His hand shakes slightly as he does.

“What is it?”

“Just read it.” His voice is soft and vulnerable, even though he looks like pure masculine power towering over me in an expensive suit.

I press my lips together and take it from him, gently unfolding it on my lap. And then I read.

One hand falls across my chest as I read the letter from Dermot Harding. Basically, a love letter to his family. Intensely personal, and intensely reflective. My throat feels thick, and my lashes go wet as my eyes trace the man’s beautiful words he penned to his grandson, the intense tragedy of his life almost more than I can take while I’m already feeling so vulnerable.

“Vaughn…” I look up into the eyes of the man I love and run my hand up over my throat.

His jaw ticks as his eyes blink quickly, trying to shut down the emotion building there. I stand up, going toe-to-toe with him, placing one palm on each stubbled cheek, and then looking him straight in his fathomless chocolate eyes. “Vaughn. I know I never got to meet your grandfather, which is a damn shame, but I can tell you two things.” I give his head a reassuring little shake. “Dermot Harding was a good man, and he loved you deeply. How incredibly lucky are you?”

Vaughn doesn’t say anything. His glistening eyes search mine, like he might find the answers to the world in me. Like I’m precious beyond compare.

“I love you, Billie Black,” he says and then wraps me in his arms. A tight, bone-crushing hug, like the handshake he gave me on the first day we met. Like he’ll never let me go.

We’re still holding each other in the busy barn alleyway when Hank, Mira, and Violet walk up leading a freshly bathed DD.

“Back off Harding, I need a turn,” Hank quips as Vaughn chuckles and nudges me towards him.

Hank congratulates me and tells me he’s proud, Mira gives me a full report on DD’s post race health before offering me quick congratulations, and when Violet and I hug we basically just squeal and then cry like the emotional messes we both are right now. I see Mira roll her eyes, which just makes me laugh.

I put DD into his stall, showering him in praise and kisses while the others talk. I cradle his pointy little ear in my hand and lean in towards him so I can whisper, “We did it, boy. We showed them all.” He nickers and shakes his head before pushing his head around my side to check my pockets for treats. Some things never change.

When I step out of the stall, Vaughn has procured a bottle of champagne and some red plastic cups. He pops the cork and pours each of us a cup of the celebratory bubbles before dragging me down onto the hay bale beside him.

I tilt my head towards Vaughn’s ear, not wanting to interrupt the story Hank is telling now, and I whisper, “We’re going to deliver on that promise your grandfather made, you know. We’re going to win it all.”

He squeezes me closer to him, letting the corner of his mouth quirk up as he responds, “I know. You’ll do anything you set your mind to.” He lifts my hand and drops a gentle kiss on the back, like a seal on the promise we just made.

I lean into the heat of his body, resting my head on his shoulder and sipping my champagne, as I listen to my friends—no, family—recount the race. Everyone is grinning ear to ear. Everyone is beyond happy. And I realize I am too. The happiest I’ve been in a long time, possibly ever. Maybe I’ve finally found what I’ve been searching for.

These people. This place. That horse. Sitting together on a hay bale beside the man I love. What could be better?

Sᴇarch the FindNovel.net website on G𝘰𝘰gle to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.