• Fourteen •

Fantasy and reality were two very different things.

Capri

The dark gem tones of the swanky restaurant that Thatcher had brought me to set the mood for the jazz pianist in the center of the two stories of tables, which had a perfect view of the ground floor and the second, where we sat. The railing was low enough so that those seated at the circular booths overlooking the ground floor could see it all. The floor was full of tables while up here, booths were farther apart and curved so that you didn’t see the guests at other booths. Your main focus was the piano player, who sat on the center stage.

I took another bite of the grilled chicken he’d ordered. It, along with the array of grilled vegetables, was delicious.

The entire thing felt like a movie. This city felt like a movie. I couldn’t believe I was getting to see it, much less experience it the way Thatcher was providing.

“I could just eat this chicken for the rest of my life and be happy,” I said as I reached for my glass of water.

“And not have your cookies?” he asked.

I glanced over at him, wishing I had the nerve to ask him about the cookies left on my porch so many times. “Okay, so maybe not just the chicken.”

He smirked at me, and my chest fluttered. Yes, I was making a mistake with him. My attraction to him was growing, and this trip was only going to make it worse. I was battling with the belief that I wasn’t his type. Perhaps he didn’t have a type. It felt as if I had his complete attention and he’d done all this when I asked. Was that what he did with all jockeys, or was it just for me? I was scared to think he might be attracted to me. The letdown would be painful if I was wrong.

Not to mention my job. Riding for Shephard Ranch was a dream I didn’t want to mess up.

“Thatcher,” a sultry voice said, and I swung my gaze from the piano player to the gorgeous blonde who had appeared at our booth.

“Cressida,” he replied.

She placed a hand on our table and leaned closer to him. “I had to hear from my brother that you were here.” She pouted, not once acknowledging my existence.

Thatcher picked up his drink. “Just got in town,” he told her, then took a drink.

She lowered her long lashes and leaned even closer to him so that her cleavage was on full display. If she wasn’t careful, a nipple was going to pop out. “Are you busy later?”

I tried not to let this be a blow to my ego because I was trying to fulfill that goal of being happy with myself. However, the fact that this woman, who had been given all the good things when it came to looks, didn’t even consider that I could be on a date with Thatcher slapped. Which I wasn’t, of course, but she didn’t know that.

She might as well have looked at me and said, I know this can’t be a date. She’s not attractive enough.

“Depends,” he drawled, and her eyes flickered with something I really didn’t want to watch.

I turned my attention back to the piano player.

“My number hasn’t changed,” she told him. “And neither has my address.”

Thatcher said nothing, and I wasn’t watching to see what was going on.

She let out a soft laugh before straightening and leaving. He hadn’t introduced me. Not only had she ignored me, but so had he. That was worse than a slap. They both should have taken a swing at me. I would have liked that better. No matter how much I told myself I loved who I was and my body in this moment, I felt homely and plain.

“Are you finished?” Thatcher asked me.

I had stopped eating, and now, I had no appetite. “Yes,” I replied.

He nodded, then moved out of the booth. I took it, we were leaving. I slid out, and he began walking toward the stairs we’d come up when we arrived. We walked in silence through the downstairs and back out onto the busy street.

We had walked here so that I could experience the city, but a black limo pulled up, and Thatcher led us over to it as the driver got out and opened the back door for us. Thatcher waved a hand for me to get inside. I slid in, and instead of getting inside, too, he closed the door.

I watched as he spoke to the driver, who nodded, and then he walked back toward the restaurant we had just left. I sank back onto the smooth leather and let out a sigh as the sting in my chest grew to something that was achingly more painful. He was getting rid of me so he could go back to the blonde. Closing my eyes, I didn’t even want to watch the city pass me by as the limo began to move.

“You’re a stupid girl, Capri,” I muttered. “Stop trying to make this something it is not.”

No matter how much I loved myself, it didn’t put me in a league with Thatcher Shephard. I had to keep that in mind and stop letting my imagination take over. Fantasy and reality were two very different things.

“Capri!” Sebastian called out, lifting his hand in a wave as I walked toward the track where Miller had taken Bloodline.

I waved back while making my way toward him. He was completely different from his brother. But just as off-limits and out of my league. He also didn’t make me feel all giddy and anxious. No need in thinking about him in any way other than a friend and horse owner.

I wasn’t sure Thatcher had come back to the suite last night. I’d gone to bed after sitting on the balcony, watching the world below for two hours. This morning, the doors to the room I believed was his were closed, but they’d been closed yesterday too. He hadn’t come out, but breakfast had arrived, and with it was a note saying that the driver would be there to pick me up in an hour. The scrambled eggs and fruit had been heavy on my stomach.

I’d spent the entire ride here scolding myself for caring about where or what Thatcher was doing. Not my business. He was a sexy man with women at his fingertips, and it wasn’t like I hadn’t known that already. One nice day with him didn’t change who he was.

“Thatch not come with you?” Sebastian asked when I reached him.

I shook my head. “I’ve not seen him since yesterday.”

“Sounds about right,” he replied. “Okay, so you ready to warm him up and go a few times around?”

Miller was talking to some other man when I looked over at Bloodline.

“Yep.”

“Good. He’s ready to run.”

Miller realized I’d made it and turned to me. “Where is Thatcher?” he asked, frowning.

I shrugged. I was not that man’s keeper. Why was everyone asking me where he was? Yes, I was slightly bitter, but I was doing my best not to care.

Miller cut his eyes to Sebastian, who also shrugged.

“All right, then let’s get you out there,” Miller said, sounding annoyed.

Thatcher wasn’t needed for this. Why did he suddenly care?

The empty stands were more daunting than when they were full. Being the main focus was just more stressful. It was different from being at the ranch and taking Bloodline around. I was focused when surrounded by other horses and riders. That played a large part of it.

“You’ve ridden this track before, right?” Sebastian asked.

I nodded. “Yes. Once for Markson Stable and another for Hyton Farms.”

“Excellent,” he replied. “You know the feel of the track.”

I’d also watched so many videos of races here that I had the thing memorized. I’d noted others’ mistakes, their wins, and how they’d chosen to move into place. Timing and understanding your horse’s strengths were essential. I knew both. The Belmont Derby Invitational was normally held at Belmont Park, but it was currently under construction and wasn’t believed to be ready until sometime in 2026. The invitational was being held at The Big A.

Following Miller, I waited while our gate crew prepared Bloodline with his blinders. I made sure he saw me and told him we were gonna have a nice run before I went to mount him. The others made sure my straps were secure, then led us into the starting gate. Bloodline wasn’t always difficult at the ranch starting gate, but we often left the front open. He liked that best. Here, he needed to go in with it closed, and Miller had thought he needed to go in with a blindfold, but Thatcher vetoed that. I’d thought he made the right call, but I’d kept my mouth shut. I wasn’t the trainer or the owner.

Blocking out everything else, I got him balanced and prepared for the gate to open. It was all about that first jump. Bloodline read my cues sometimes before I even gave them to him. He was brilliant and sensitive, which made what needed to happen next easier.

“Ready?” Sebastian called out from where he had moved to stand on the other side of the gate, far enough away to watch.

I gave a nod and watched the crack in the gate. My complete focus was on that spot, and I waited for it to begin to move open. The swing of the gate was fast, and unless you’d ever sat behind it, you wouldn’t understand the importance of cuing your horse for that moment.

The moment the crack began to widen, we were off. It was poetic, the way his body moved beneath me. I didn’t let him go full blast. There was no need for that today. Just getting the both of us warmed up to the track. I grinned as I felt him holding back. His stride was perfection, and I knew when it was time, he was going to break clean and put us where we needed to be to win.

Dismounting, I immediately turned to Bloodline and told him what a good boy he was. He loved the praise, but then again, he was a male. The two guys in the gate crew took his lead as I kissed his nose.

“His breaks were clean, and the rhythm in his stride looked good. How did it feel?” Miller asked, walking toward me.

I reached up to unlatch my riding cap and take it off before responding, “He feels comfortable on the track. The jump at the gate would have been more impressive, but I held him back today.”

Miller nodded. “All right, that is enough for today. I’ll have a practice jockey ride him tomorrow.”

Which meant I had a full day in Manhattan. I hadn’t expected that. I could explore.

“I only want Capri on him before the race.”

Thatcher’s voice startled me, and I spun around to see him walking this way with a cigarette between his lips and a black cowboy hat on his head. I tried not to take in the rest of him, but it was hard. The man could wear a pair of jeans like no one else.

“Miller is the trainer,” Sebastian said, stepping up beside me.

Thatcher’s gaze cut to his younger brother. “And I’m the owner.”

“We are the owners,” Sebastian replied, sounding annoyed.

“Then, act like one,” Thatcher told him. “Capri is Bloodline’s jockey. She rides him.”

Miller said nothing, but nodded. I could see he feared Thatcher, unlike Sebastian.

“Tomorrow, hold back on the last break by two more seconds,” Thatcher instructed, then took his cigarette from his mouth and let out smoke through his nose.

I nodded, not wanting to talk to him.

“You ready to go?” he asked me, then took another pull from the cigarette.

“I was going to show her around, take her to lunch,” Sebastian said, surprising me.

Thatcher’s threatening stare as he locked his eyes on his brother made me tense up. It was that look that made me nervous around him. The reminder that he was dangerous was one I needed.

“Were you now?” he asked, his momentary frightening expression turning into a bored one.

“Yeah,” Sebastian replied.

Thatcher shifted his gaze to me. “What do you want, Capri? Stay here with him or leave with me?”

Had he asked me this yesterday, I’d have wanted to go with him. However, after last night, I felt it was better for my mental health to stay with Sebastian. He didn’t make me all fluttery. He was the safe choice.

“I’d like to look around. I saw very little when I was here before.”

Thatcher didn’t seem to care. He turned to Miller, who was still standing there, acting as if he wasn’t listening to this entire conversation. “Media wants an interview with Bloodline’s trainer this afternoon. Should be here by three. Meet them in the clubhouse.”

Miller nodded. “Yes, sir.”

Thatcher put his cigarette between his teeth and turned to walk away. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t have a sudden urge to run after him and tell him I’d rather go with him. That would make me look pathetic, so I stayed put.

“Ready to go check the place out?” Sebastian asked.

“Yeah,” I replied, glancing back one more time at Thatcher’s retreating form.