Off to the Races: A Small Town Enemies to Lovers Romance (Gold Rush Ranch Book 1)
Off to the Races: Chapter 22

Fan-fucking-tastic. A text from my mom. I reach for my phone, dread creeping up my spine as I read the message.

Jesus.

Her timing is impeccable. I have to hand it to her. I finally start breaking down the walls around one of the most closed-off women in the world, and my mom sends a text about setting me up on a date with another woman.

A date I have no intention of partaking in.

Especially, after last night.

It’s no wonder Billie shot out of here with that too-sunny, awkward smile on her face. She was totally freaking out, and that text was the cherry on top.

Unfortunately for Billie, I won’t scare off that easily. Her wounded pride over a silly text will not be enough to deter me. I’ve had a taste and I want more. A lot more.

I’m a level-headed, patient man. A pragmatic man. I may not be accustomed to being the one doing the chasing, but I’ve never been so set on any woman in my life. I’ll play the long game with Billie.

She’s worth it.

I poke my head into her room. “Billie, I’m running home to take a shower and change. And then I’m coming back.”

“You don’t need to do that! I’m all good. Bye!” Her fake enthusiasm makes me roll my eyes.

With her childhood laid out in the open, I’m onto her now. That bright cheery facade is a cover, that much is becoming abundantly clear, and I’m going to pry it off, piece by piece. Get to the moody, temperamental woman underneath. That’s the Billie who intrigues me. The Billie I want.

I’m barely buckled up before I’m barking, “Call Mom,” at my Bluetooth system.

The loud ringing sounds through the speakers, followed by my mom’s cheery greeting, “Vaughn! Such nice timing. I’m in the car with your brother. We’re going for coffee. Want to join us?”

This is her new thing, intentionally ignoring the fact I’m not living in the city anymore.

“Hi, Mom. Not today. I’m at the ranch, remember? I do need to talk to you, though.”

“Sure, honey. What’s up?”

I opt to just blurt it out, “You’re going to have to stop setting up dates for me. It’s gone on long enough now. No more.”

Awkward silence.

“I… Vaughn, I’m sorry. I was just trying to help.”

I sigh. My relationship with my mother is strained at best. On one hand I don’t want to make her feel worse than she already does, I’m not oblivious enough to think that she doesn’t live with intense guilt for handing me over to my grandfather and drowning herself in a bottle for few years in the wake of my father’s death. But this making up for her years of absence by smothering me as an adult stunt has got to end. I have to confess, I’m worried that without it we’ll have no common ground. We’ll be even more estranged than we already are. But that’s a bridge I’ll cross later.

“I know, Mom. But it’s not helping anymore. Do you want me to call Emma Breland and cancel, or will you?”

I feel bad canceling. I’ve known Emma Breland for years. We’ve attended several events together as friends. It’s not her fault my mom intrudes beyond what’s normal. It’s not her fault I’ve been too big of a pushover to put a stop to it either.

“You can’t humor me one last time? She really is lovely, Vaughn. It’s a good connection to make for the farm. I know you get along we–”

I take a deep breath. Is she serious right now? “Mom. Stop it. I said no more.”

I can hear my brother’s evil cackle in the background.

“Am I on speaker phone?”

“Hello, brother,” Cole responds, failing to hide the amusement in his voice.

“Mom, I have the perfect solution for you. Get Cole to take Emma to the gala. He’s overdue for a date.”

No chuckles this time. I smile inwardly, loving ribbing my older brother. He’s made it through more than most people ever will, but he came back out the other side cool and removed. Unreachable. It’s time he dips a toe back into the dating pond.

“Don’t pick on your brother.” And it’s time my mom stops tiptoeing around him too. “I’ll speak with Emma. I’m sure you’ll see her there.”

I roll my eyes. The woman is truly impossible. “Mom, I’m not coming.”

“Why not?” She sounds truly aghast.

“Because I’m not ready yet. I’m busy. I’m happy out at the ranch. I need more time before I step back into the viper’s den.”

She sniffles, not liking my answer but also trained to not ruffle feathers or make a scene. “Whatever makes you happy, darling.”

“Great. Talk later,” I say before hanging up and gunning it down the back roads to my house.

Billie has been avoiding me all week. Or that’s how it feels, even though I know she’s been spending her days driving to and from the track in Vancouver, training the horses we have down there now that the suspension has lifted.

I’m hiding out in my office at the farm. Totally failing at proving to her how badly I want her. That I’m serious about her. I had big ideas in my head about what I was going to do. Grand gestures I was going to make. But I realize I’m out of my depth here.

My feelings for her scare me. They’ve paralyzed me.

Basically, I’m a total pussy.

Close a high-stakes business deal? No problem. Fire someone? I’m your man. Talk to a girl you like and respect? I guess I’ll just crumble instead.

People taking off on me when things go wrong is common. My mom. My brother. I’ve been here before. But somehow with Billie, it’s worse.

I’ve seen her around the farm, always with that forced happy look on her face, but she’s constantly armored up with someone else. Constantly with one of her sidekicks, Violet or Hank, and impossible to get alone. And I’m too chicken to just pull up to her house when she clearly doesn’t want to be around me.

Short of groveling, I’m too inexperienced with relationships to know what to do next.

Plus, I don’t grovel.

So, when I get a text saying she has some things she wants to talk to me about, I breathe a sigh of relief. She’s coming to me. This is familiar footing.

I fidget while I wait for her. Organizing my desk. Setting things just right. Running my hands through my hair. I’m nervous. Excited. Like a little kid.

Knock, knock, knock.

My head snaps up to meet her amber gaze as she stands in my doorway. Chestnut-brown hair and golden eyes. Everything about her is warm and sensual, like velvet.

“Come on in.”

“Thanks for seeing me,” she says formally, awkwardly.

“Of course,” I say, like a total chickenshit. “What’s up?”

“I’ve found a jockey for DD,” is her reply as she comes to sit in a chair across from me.

“Okay.” That’s not what I thought we were going to talk about.

“It’s Violet,” she continues.

I take a minute to pivot, to realize we’re talking about business rather than anything personal. Rather than us.

“Little country bumpkin Violet?”

“Don’t be pretentious, Vaughn.” She sniffs. “She’s excellent with the horses. Gifted, really. And she’s been working towards her license. All I have to do is sign off on her riding hours, and she’ll be set.”

Okay, she’s got my attention now. I lean forward on my desk, steepling my hands beneath my chin. Trying not to be pretentious.

“Billie… she’s… well, she’s very young. Very inexperienced. Has she ridden in a single race? And you’re just going to throw her up on a Derby contending horse to replace her footing?”

“She is.” She holds her hands up as though she’s surrendering. “That’s all true. But I’ve had her up on DD all week. He loves her. We can’t take any chances with how sensitive he is. You know that as well as I do.” Billie pierces me with a knowing look. “He’s only got so many races in him. He’s not a run-every-weekend horse. And she’ll stay out of his way. Let him do his thing. You should see them together. It’s… well, it’s amazing.”

I groan and rub my hands across my face, scrubbing, before pushing them back through my hair.

How did I end up here? Betrayed and abandoned by the man I admired most. Hiring a wild card of a trainer for his farm—his tarnished legacy. And now about to put a completely green jockey on my most valuable horse—this farm’s only possible saving grace.

This is not the organized and logical approach I like to take to things. These decisions… they make little sense.

I am losing it.

“I… I don’t know,” I reply honestly.

She just stares back at me with determination painted all over her dainty features, and I know deep down that I won’t deny her this.

“Do you trust me, Vaughn?” she asks with a quirk of her head.

Trust her? I more than trust her. Looking at her now, she’s strong and resolved, saying what she wants and fighting for it. Not some giggling heiress amenable to everything I say or do. She’s her own person. So thoroughly. So unapologetically.

I admire the hell out of her. Warm foreign feelings hit me like a ton of fucking bricks.

“Yes,” I reply. My eyes search hers. It’s true, but my mind is reeling with the realization that I would give this woman anything she wants, which is hilarious, because she might be the one woman I’ve ever met who wants absolutely nothing from me.

“Trust me with this. I won’t let you down.”

I remain silent, wanting to believe her but warring with my current frame of mind that tells me people you love aren’t always who you think you are. That they can’t always be trusted.

I had my grandfather up on a pedestal. There’s nothing I wouldn’t have done for that man. Nothing I still wouldn’t do for him to restore his reputation. And then he turned out to be so different from the idealistic image I created of him in my mind. I’d been so blindsided. How does one man misjudge one person so completely?

But Billie isn’t him, and I don’t want to spend my life wallowing in his betrayal. I don’t want to be the sad, quiet guy with grand-daddy issues.

So, I leap and decide to trust the woman sitting in front of me lit up with excitement. I want that. I want to feel like that again.

“Okay.”

“Okay?” she asks, disbelief soaking through her voice.

How can I say no to her when my reward is that look on her face? That sparkly look, where she shines from the inside out. Where she glows. That special look she has that’s reserved for all things horses. I want her to look at me like that. I want to bottle that up and drink it. Save it for the days when I’m feeling gloomy and generally unlovable.

She jumps up wearing a Cheshire Cat grin on her face, doing small claps with her long, elegant fingers. Fingers I want back in my hair and wrapped around my cock.

Fuck. Everything this girl does is a turn on. Her fingers for crying out loud. I mentally chastise myself. Pathetic.

She’s like catnip for me. I lose my mind around her.

“Thank you, Vaughn,” she sing-songs, heading towards the door. “I’ll get to work on updating his entry papers for the next race. You won’t regret it.”

“I know,” I reply, because it’s true. In the months I’ve known Billie Black, I’ve seen her grit and determination. I’ve seen her hard work in action. When she sets her mind to something, she makes it happen.

Watching her leave, I scramble for something to say to make her stay and talk, “Billie…”

“Yeah?” Her brow quirks up as she grabs the door frame and looks back at me.

“Do you have plans this weekend?”

The psycho fake mask slips over her cheerful face. I cringe inwardly, realizing how badly that one brief text must have stung after our night together.

“I do.”

I take a deep breath, steeling myself, wanting to replace my own date for the first time in a long time. Not just any date either. I want Billie.

“Do you…” I thump my chest with a fist and clear my throat. “Like you’re going out?”

Her body stiffens. “Yup. Like I said. Plans.” She walks away without looking back.

I feel heat flourish across my cheeks and my heartbeat in my ears. How the hell did she go from writhing beneath me, begging me to fuck her, to having ‘plans’ in a matter of five days?

Have I blown my opportunity with one thoughtless text that was completely out of my control? I feel like I know her better than that. She isn’t that thin-skinned, but she is skittish about men. She made that much clear. Which leaves me with one obvious alternative: sweet Billie is lying to me. Trying to push me off her trail. Trying to cover her tracks.

But she’s too late. If I am the predator, she is my prey, and I already had a taste I can’t forget. I’m coming back for more, whether or not she realizes it.

I’m not tiptoeing around her anymore.