MILLIONAIRE'S SHOT: Second Chance Romance by Bev Pettersen Page A

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,