• Twenty •

The sick, painful tightening in my stomach and chest weren’t pleasant.

Capri

Present Day

The two calls I’d received from two different trainers, asking me to come to the stables where they worked and meet with them and the owners about racing one or more of their horses in some upcoming smaller races, didn’t help the fact that I’d not heard from anyone at Shephard Ranch in two weeks.

When I had first gotten home after a silent flight alone with no Thatcher in sight, Stellan had called me to congratulate me and said he looked forward to future races with me on a Shephard horse. That was it. Nothing else. No Miller, King, or Sebastian, and no Thatcher. Which was what was bothering me the most.

I had put off scheduling a meeting with the other two trainers as long as I could. Allowing Shephard Ranch to affect my career negatively was foolish. I needed to capitalize on my win with them and go get more jobs.

After my morning run, I showered, dressed, then sat down to call both of the trainers back with my calendar in front of me so I could write down dates and make sure I wasn’t double booking myself.

My phone ringing surprised me, and King Salazar’s name lighting up the screen made hope spring in my chest. I pressed Accept and moved my calendar away from me, hoping I wouldn’t need to make those calls after all. Well, no, maybe I should. I could ride for more than one stable. It wasn’t like I was exclusive to Shephard Ranch.

“Hello?” I said, trying not to sound too thrilled to hear from someone there.

“Capri,” King said into the line. “Are you available to come in today and take Zephyr out? We decided to enter him in the Bing Crosby Stakes in a couple of weeks. We need to see you on him before we make a decision on the jockey.”

Another Grade I race and on the back of Zephyr.

“Yes! I can be there whenever you need,” I blurted out.

“Great. Let’s do two. We’ll have him do some warm-ups and prep him before you get here.”

I nodded, then remembered I was on the phone. “Okay,” I said. “That’s perfect. I mean, I can come early and watch the warm-ups, too, if you want.”

“Sure. Anytime after one will be fine. I am going to try and be there earlier, but Sebastian and Miller will be there if I’m not.”

“Okay, thanks,” I replied.

When the call ended, I stared at my phone for several minutes, trying to wrap my head around this. I had raced many Grade III and Grade II stakes, but Grade I was a level I strived for. Now, I was getting two back-to-back in the same month. Pausing, I let some of the excitement ease out of me, remembering he had said he wanted to see me on Zephyr first. As in they were probably testing out other jockeys. I wasn’t exclusive.

I might not get this job. I had to prepare for that. If I didn’t get it though, would they want me on Zephyr at the Breeders’ Cup? My chest tightened, and I had to take a deep breath and calm down. Letting my anxiety get the best of me would not help me here. I could do this.

Glancing over at my calendar, I decided I’d wait on calling the other trainers. I had to focus right now. No use in getting my head in other places until after I rode Zephyr today.

King hadn’t mentioned Thatcher at all. Perhaps his not being there would be to my advantage. He was the only distraction that truly worried me. I’d not seen him since that embarrassing night in the hotel suite. I knew I was going to have to face him eventually, but before I rode Zephyr wouldn’t be beneficial.

The stables were active when I pulled up beside a large black truck that I knew belonged to King. He’d made it here early. I was barely out of my car when Sebastian pulled up beside me in a much newer, fancier truck than the one King drove. Relieved he was here since he was the one that I felt more relaxed around, I waited until he climbed out of his truck.

“You ready to do this?” he asked, grinning at me.

I nodded. “Yep.”

He motioned out to the track, where Miller stood with Zephyr. He was talking to King, but there was no Christopher or any other exercise rider with them.

“Go on and get ready, then meet us out there,” he said before heading out toward the others.

I hurried to the stables to go get my helmet, riding crop, and boots that were kept in the tact room. They were mine, but only when I rode for one of their horses. My personal gear wasn’t as high-end as the equipment they supplied. I waved to Jim, who nodded but kept walking as I passed him.

He had gotten less weird around me, but he still didn’t talk to me much. At least not like he used to.

When I reached the tact door, it was open, and I hurried in to go get my things, anxious to get outside. My helmet and boots were there, but the crop wasn’t. After slipping them on, I looked around to see if it had been misplaced. With no luck there, I gave up and made my way across the rows of stalls to the other end of the stables to the tact room where extras and new unused equipment was held. I’d only been there once, when I had been given the tour the first time.

Hopefully, my crop showed up, but until then, I could use one of the extras they had available. Just as I reached the door, I heard a noise that was muffled too much for me to be sure what it was. Reaching for the knob, I turned it and walked into the room only two steps before the air in my lungs felt like it had been sucked out.

Unable to take another step forward or backward, as if my feet had been superglued to the floor beneath them, I stood, looking at a completely naked woman with her hands tied up with a rope that hung from the ceiling. Behind her, with one of his hands covering her mouth and the other gripping her hips, Thatcher stood, equally naked. His bare ass flexed as he thrust his hips.

Both sets of eyes turned to me, and I wanted to run, but again, my feet seemed to not be cooperating. Thatcher released her and stepped back away from her body. My eyes fell to his rigid condom-covered erection before I could stop myself. The rest of his body was as perfectly formed as his chest, back, and arms were.

“FUCK! Don’t stop! I was about to come!” the blonde cried out in a throaty voice, not at all concerned that I’d walked in on them.

The sick, painful tightening in my stomach and chest weren’t pleasant.

My eyes snapped up from Thatcher’s penis to see his face, and the fierce expression on it was apparently what I needed to be released from my frozen state. I turned and ran. A lump formed in my throat, and I hated that it was affecting me like this. I had known Thatcher had lots of sex with curvy, gorgeous women all the time. But I’d never witnessed it. That was different.

Needing to get outside, where there was fresh air and I might possibly be able to breathe again, I didn’t speak to anyone as I rushed by. Barreling out of the front entrance to the stables, I crashed into a hard chest and would have ended up falling on my ass if Sebastian hadn’t grabbed me by the arms to steady me.

His concerned look almost broke me. The tears were right there, waiting to embarrass me.

“Whoa,” he said gently, and I wished he would stop being so nice. I could not cry. That would be horrible. I might never recover from it. “What happened?”

I took a deep breath and reached down deep, grabbing at any strength I could muster to calm down and be normal. So, I’d walked in on Thatcher having sex. I was sure most of them, if not all of them, had done the same thing. He did it a lot. He didn’t lock the door either, it would seem. Why had his butt been tanned? God! Why was I thinking about his butt? I had to shake this off.

“Nothing,” I said, then shook my head. “I mean, clearly, something.” I added a laugh then, hoping to make this a ha-ha funny moment and not a cringey one.

Sebastian stood there, still holding my arms, studying me like he could read whatever was wrong on my face.

“I couldn’t find my crop,” I said. “So, I went to get an extra.”

Sebastian’s expression hardened immediately, and I felt his hands flex before they eased up on their hold. “You went to the extra tact room?”

I nodded.

He knew. I guessed this wasn’t the first time someone had walked in on Thatcher screwing in there. That didn’t make me feel better. It should, but it didn’t. It made it worse.

“Take your hands off her.” Thatcher’s voice carried from inside the stables.

Sebastian’s hands dropped from me, but he glared over my shoulder at his brother.

“Go to the track, Capri,” Thatcher ordered.

I stepped around Sebastian, trying not to look back at Thatcher and failing. My will to act like I was as unaffected as he was about all this sucked. I turned to see him wearing a pair of jeans, unbuttoned, no shirt, and no boots. There were claw marks on his side and under his pierced nipple. I jerked my gaze off him, not wanting to think about how and why they had gotten there.

“Locking a door wouldn’t kill you,” Sebastian said.

“Don’t.” Thatcher’s voice dropped a level yet still had no real emotion. “The track, Capri,” he repeated.

Without looking at him again, I turned to walk in that direction.

King was watching me, or perhaps it was Sebastian and Thatcher he was watching, but his focus was this way. A crash caused me to jump, and I saw King begin stalking toward the stables just before I turned around to see Sebastian and what looked like a heap of something smashed into pieces beside him.

I looked from the pile to him to make sure he was okay when I realized he was holding a gun. My hand flew up to cover my scream when King broke into a run, reaching behind him and pulling out a gun that had been hidden under his shirt.

“Don’t go after him, Sebastian!” King shouted.

This felt like a bad dream, not real life.

“Not gonna be riding Zephyr today,” Miller said behind me. I’d forgotten all about him and the horse. “Probably best you go on home. King will be in touch.”

Where had Thatcher gone? Had he broken something and left? I was confused about the guns and the yelling. What had I missed?

The blonde came running out of the stables, clothed, but not wearing much. Her tiny dress did little to cover up anything. The disarray of her hair only reminded me of what I’d witnessed and how I wished I could wipe it from my brain. Although at least I had that image to keep my head on straight and stop my fantasizing about Thatcher. Being reminded of the kind of woman he was attracted to was like a bucket of ice-cold water over my head.

His storming off and slamming the door when I’d climaxed while he was just asking me inappropriate questions made a little more sense to me. He clearly hadn’t realized I was attracted to him. When I made it obvious, he hadn’t been happy about it because he never intended to have sex with me.

“Go to the house!” King told Sebastian.

Sebastian’s jaw was clenched tight, and his shoulders rose and fell with heavy breathing. Finally, he nodded and tucked his gun back where it had come from before glancing back out at me. I was still watching it all, even after being told by Miller to leave.

I could see the regret—or was it sympathy?—in his gaze. I couldn’t be sure. He headed for the path that led to their mansion on the hill while King made his way inside the stables. I noticed he didn’t put his gun back, and that bothered me. I didn’t want him pointing a gun at Thatcher.

Shaking my head, I decided this was something I needed to get away from. Whatever they were all dealing with, I didn’t want to be a part of it. Calling the other trainers and setting up appointments sounded like the safe, solid plan. It didn’t mean I wouldn’t come back here, and if I got the chance, I would ride for them too. But I was not letting my world revolve around Shephard Ranch.

As I walked back to my car, whispers of stories I’d heard over the years replayed in my head. Things I’d rolled my eyes at and chalked up to people being dramatic and bored. No. I shook my head. I was not entertaining the gossip of small-minded folks. That was ridiculous. It was the South. People had guns … maybe not all of them had them hidden on their bodies, ready to pull out at any minute like Billy the Kid, but still, it was legal … I thought.