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Brooks laughed. Man, the absolute absurdity of it all. The bastard had some nerve.
“Yeah,” he drawled, “because you’re the type of person I’ve always wanted to do business with. I’m not the kind of man you are, Spencer.”
“Just hear me out.” Spencer followed Brooks as he walked around to the other side of the thoroughbred. “You’ve done really well for yourself establishing Original Sin. You’ve brought a lot more business to town, created an innovative tourist destination, and have local investors salivating at the prospect of tossing money your way after your recent win.” He spread his hands. “I’ve got the connections, and now you’ve got the clout. It makes sense for us to merge our businesses and form a partnership.”
“It makes anything but sense,” Brooks said. He smoothed his hand over Another Round’s head, neck, and back, searching for any damp spots he might have missed. The thoroughbred’s muscles flexed under his touch and the horse’s eyes followed Spencer, some of the earlier tension returning to Another Round’s posture. “Whatever you’re offering, I’m not interested.”
“Why not hear me out at least? There’s a lot to this deal that would benefit you. Probably more than you imagine.”
Brooks continued smoothing his hands over Another Round’s back. He had no difficulty imagining just what Spencer planned to offer. A murky partnership, probably. One in which Brooks would be presented with what appeared to be a fantastic deal, when all the time, Spencer’s primary motive would be to keep Brooks under his thumb. To have a controlling interest in the business Brooks had built from the ground up with next to nothing—no name, no money, and no connections. Spencer would eventually lay claim to it all in the name of this partnership. And, as a bonus, he’d be able to control every move Brooks made.
Brooks supposed it went both ways though. Merging his business with Spencer’s would afford him the opportunity to be privy to Spencer’s moves as well. He’d have much more access to Spencer’s dirty doings than he could have on his own. And what was that saying? Ah, yes. Keep your enemies closer . . .
“Think of the possibilities,” Spencer continued. “With your spectacular bourbon and Derby winner and my successful casino ventures and quality thoroughbreds, we’d have a leg up on all the competition in our area.”
Brooks walked to the front of Another Round and rubbed his forehead, trying to ignore the sound of Spencer’s voice.
“Come on, Brooks. Is this really what you want to spend your time doing? Washing down horses, chasing down trainers, and spending every waking moment busting your tail to score a win when you could be paying someone else to do it for you?”
Brooks’s hand stilled against Another Round’s head. The thoroughbred’s dark eyes locked with his, seeming to peer deep. “What did you say?”
An exasperated sound left Spencer’s lips and his boots crunched across the ground as he moved closer. “I said, is this how you want to spend your time?”
Brooks smoothed his thumb over Another Round’s forehead gently, leaning closer, concentrating on the horse’s soft breaths against his chest. He thought of Lone Oaks Crossing. Of the routine Jo had taught Cheyenne. He thought of the striking picture Another Round always made in the pasture behind the main house as Cheyenne groomed him every morning at daybreak. He thought of Earl and Frankie, sipping coffee on the back deck, as they watched Cheyenne’s progress with pride. He thought of Jo, staying close to Cheyenne, watching her every move, supporting and protecting her as she learned. He could see the smile on Jo’s face now, the way her eyes would light up as she saw Cheyenne grow into a stronger, more confident young woman with a mature head on her shoulders.
He thought of spending his days—every day—just like that. Enjoying every moment of every hour at Lone Oaks Crossing with Jo and the warm, welcoming, camaraderie of the little makeshift family they’d built over the past few months. And he thought of the future . . . of the lives they could change—equine and human, alike—for the better, in the peaceful home he had grown to love as much as he loved Jo.
It was all there waiting for him, just as Jo had said. All he had to do was set his anger and resentment down, leave them here with Spencer and walk away.
“Yeah,” he said softly. “This is exactly how I want to spend my time.”
He took Another Round’s reins in his hands and led the thoroughbred away.
“Brooks!” Spencer shouted after him. “Just think it over. The possibilities would be endless.”
“They already are,” Brooks called back. He glanced up at Another Round and patted his neck. “Let’s get you brushed and fed, boy.” His smile grew. “You can sleep on the way home.”
* * *
“Jo! Take a break and come over here!”
Jo, standing in a field behind the main house at Lone Oaks Crossing, turned off the HVLP paint sprayer she held, and glanced over her shoulder. Earl waved from where he stood by the white fence of the adjacent pasture, beckoning her over with a wide smile on his face.
A smile rose to her own lips. Since their return to Lone Oaks Crossing almost two weeks ago, Earl had made impressive strides in his recovery—even more so than he had prior to their trip to Churchill Downs. The trip to the Kentucky Derby and subsequent win had done Earl a world of good, but it was the return home to Lone Oaks Crossing that seemed to have really kicked his rehabilitation into high gear.
After they’d said goodbye to Brooks in Louisville, Jo, Cheyenne, Frankie, and Earl had endured a sad, quiet drive home. But Earl had been the first to perk up when they reached the farm, announcing how glad he was they had returned and how eager he was to get a good night’s sleep in his own bed. The following morning, he had risen early, along with Jo and Cheyenne, and had met them in the kitchen for breakfast with Frankie. Earl had been eager to get back into the daily routine.
Every morning thereafter, he rose early, ate breakfast, and walked to the stables with Jo, Cheyenne, and Frankie to attend to the horses they were boarding. He aided Cheyenne in the grooming routine, telling humorous anecdotes and giving sage advice. He and Cheyenne had shared several laughs during their time working together and soon, their friendship had blossomed along with Cheyenne’s skill with the horses. Clearly, Earl delighted in spending time with Cheyenne and Cheyenne basked in his caring attention.
This morning, Earl had risen early as usual, joined Cheyenne in the stables, and helped her groom one of their new arrivals. Benny (short for Benjamin The Great) had arrived at Lone Oaks Crossing one week ago. The thoroughbred was a retired racehorse in need of a permanent home. Earl, who’d been almost as eager as Jo to open a new rehab retreat at Lone Oaks Crossing for retired racehorses, had welcomed the thoroughbred with excitement. Benny had taken to the daily routine at the farm quickly and possessed a friendly personality reminiscent of Another Round.
Jo looked down at her boots and dragged one toe across the thick bluegrass. A painful ache still throbbed in her chest at the thought of Another Round and Brooks. The past couple weeks without them had been difficult, to say the least. She’d been surprised at how quickly and easily Brooks had slipped into their daily routine at Lone Oaks Crossing . . . and her heart. Even though every morning started the same as it had over the past several months, she still felt as though something was missing. Lone Oaks Crossing simply wasn’t the same without Brooks and Another Round.
They’d be at the Pimlico Race Course in Baltimore by now, preparing for the Preakness Stakes. And if they won, they’d progress to the Belmont Stakes at Belmont Park in New York. Who knew where they’d end up after that? Or if Another Round would make it safely to the finish line of each race? Or if Brooks would ever decide to set his feud with Spencer aside long enough to return to Lone Oaks Crossing and her?
It had been hard to walk away from Brooks . . . and it was turning out to be even harder to let go of her hopes for his return.
“Jo!” Earl shouted again. “Come take a look. You gotta see this!”
