Fool's Gold Read online

  “Where’s the remote?” Donald asked. “Ah, never mind.” He spied the controller lying on the bedside table and pointed it at the television. The screen blinked to life. He flipped through the channels until he found the horse network. “You’ve got to see this.”

  As he expected, the channel was giving the highlights of the various events.

  “Now let’s take a look at the results in so far from Jersey Fresh after today’s cross-country run,” the announcer said.

  “I don’t really want to watch this.” Jake released the hand rail and sank back into the stacked pillows.

  “You will.” Donald continued speaking over the announcer, who was giving the rundown of the current leaders while clips from the day’s event were shown. “Yes, yes, we know all that. Get to the good part.”

  “The good part?” Evans asked with a bit of an edge to his voice.

  “Here we go,” Donald said.

  Indeed, the channel was showing the same clip he saw earlier, with Jake losing his balance and oozing into an ungainly heap on the ground. Again, Pegasus nosed him, rather like a large dog.

  “They’re showing it on all the news outlets, not just this one.”

  “Great.” Jake let out a groan. “Can we turn it off now?”

  “Not yet,” Donald said. “Watch.”

  Off screen, a woman said, “Oh, that’s too bad. Stanford was having such a good run up until then too. Any word on what happened?”

  The camera continued to focus on Jake as he lay on the ground. Pegasus threw her head up in the air as people came running up, and she danced nervously to one side, being careful to avoid stepping on Jake. In the upper right-hand corner of the screen, a picture of Jake smiling and holding up a small trophy showed up as an insert.

  “No word on Stanford as yet, though apparently he’s under observation at the local hospital. A tough break for Stanford, who was seen as the comeback kid for these Games, having missed out on Beijing when his competition horse, Cloud Dancer, was tragically killed in an accident. This is a real setback for his qualifying for the team, but I wouldn’t count him out yet. He’s got a winner in Pegasus, the horse you saw there, and I’m betting we haven’t seen the last of this team yet.”

  “He certainly has an amazing bond with his horse,” the woman agreed. “From all of us at Horse Nation TV, we’re wishing you a speedy recovery, Jake.”

  “See, not the end of the world,” Evans said.

  Jake shot him a look full of disgust.

  “You’re both missing the point.” Donald switched off the television. “I’m telling you, this is pure gold here. The stuff advertisers dream of. Mark my words, Jake. People are going to be calling left and right for endorsements.”

  Jake frowned, obviously skeptical, but Donald noted the thoughtful expression on Evans’s face and smiled.

  Jake had been quiet for the last couple of hours on the drive home. Rich snuck a glance at him in the passenger seat when he wasn’t looking.

  It only made sense he’d be withdrawn. Jake was still having minor bouts of vertigo if he turned his head in the wrong direction, which couldn’t make him happy, regardless of the MRI results being clean. The meclizine he was taking made him sleepy too. But Rich knew it was more than that. Jake had to be stewing about the possibility that Rowan’s chiropractor might not be able to help him. And then what?

  While meclizine wasn’t a banned substance for athletes, it wasn’t exactly a good idea to gallop a half-ton creature over a variety of nerve-wracking obstacles while taking a medication that warned against operating heavy machinery. He had every confidence in Rowan though. She’d made a marked difference in his own comfort level ever since she’d started working on him. Rich trusted her judgment on this one.

  He started to say as much—again—when Jake suddenly spoke up.

  “How much farther?”

  Rich caught himself suppressing a yawn. “About an hour and a half, depending on traffic.”

  After Jake had been discharged, Rich had taken him back to the hotel, followed by Stanford. The three of them had checked out early that morning, but Rich hadn’t made a point of driving in tandem with Stanford, who drove like a demon. Due to their predawn departure, even with making several stops so Rich could get out and stretch his legs, they’d be at Foxden well before lunchtime. He’d lost sight of Stanford’s Mercedes early on. Though they’d been getting on fairly well, Rich couldn’t help but wish Stanford would go back to his apartment in D.C. for a while. He’d really like to spend some time alone with Jake.

  “We should be coming up on your exit soon. Don’t you need to check in with your barn?”

  Rich risked a glance at Jake. As usual in the car, he seemed barricaded behind his sunglasses, the epitome of rich and cool. Rich couldn’t see any evidence of the inner turmoil Jake must be feeling.

  “It wouldn’t hurt, but it can wait.”

  “It’s on the way, though, right?”

  It took Rich a second to hear what Jake was actually saying.

  “Yeah.” He made a show of checking his watch. “It is. Would you mind if we stopped? It wouldn’t take that long, and it would save me a lot of driving back and forth.”

  “No problem. It’s not like I have to be anywhere specific anytime soon.”

  Rowan wasn’t coming until tomorrow, and Jake was scheduled to see the chiropractor after Rowan worked on his neck and shoulders so that he could get a good adjustment. Jake might be feeling sorry for himself right now, but Rich knew he couldn’t resist checking out the horses in training at Rich’s stable. As therapy went, there was nothing better.

  “Great.” Rich smiled to himself. “I’ve got a gelding I’d like your opinion on.”

  It was good to get out of the car at the stables. Rich stretched and took a couple steps to work out the stiffness from the long drive. Jake shut the car door behind him, looking around curiously, which Rich took as a good sign.

  Rich showed him the homely gelding he’d purchased at meat prices. “A terrible jumper,” Rich admitted as they peered over the stall door at the horse calmly eating hay. “But I think he has the makings of a decent dressage horse.”

  “Dressage people like them pretty.”

  “I know.” Rich sighed. “He was too nice a horse to be made into dog food though. I’ll find a use for him.”

  “I’m sure you will.” The warmth in Jake’s voice touched him.

  They ran into one of Rich’s students in the barn. She was typical of Rich’s clientele: upper-middle-class, middle-aged, getting back into riding after sending her children off to school. Clients like her provided him with a steady income. It was even better if their daughters got hooked on horses too.

  She was delighted to be introduced to Jake. “So pleased to meet you,” she said, shooting a beaming smile over the back of her horse, a pretty little chestnut standing in the crossties. “Everyone here’s rooting for you, just so you know. Such a wonderful connection you have with your horse.” She actually blushed and ducked her head, going back to grooming her horse.

  Jake was charming and polite, even as he lifted an eyebrow in Rich’s direction.

  It didn’t take long to catch up at the barn. Everything was running smoothly. Rich was lucky; he knew that. The students and horses he had in training were capable of dealing with his prolonged absences, knowing it was for a good cause. Linda, the girl he’d hired to feed and clean stalls was doing an excellent job.

  He didn’t want to think about what his life would be like after the Games. One thing at a time.

  “Ready to go?” he asked Jake as they walked back to the car.

  “No.”

  The admission took Rich by surprise. “No?” he echoed.

  “No. I don’t want to go back to Foxden just yet. Show me your house.”

  “It’s no great shakes.” Rich couldn’t understand why Jake would want to see where he lived. It was no Foxden.

  “Humor me.”

  With a shrug, Rich drove
them to his little ranch house. “I told you it wasn’t worth seeing,” he said as the car came to a stop in the driveway.

  Jake said nothing, getting out of the car and tucking his sunglasses in the collar of his shirt. He waited patiently on the porch for Rich to let them inside.

  A messy pile of mail greeted them when Rich opened the door, and Jake knelt to help him pick it up. If Jake bobbled a bit on the way down, putting a hand on the wall to stabilize himself, no one said anything.

  “Here, let me take this.” Rich reached for the mail. “It’s mostly junk anyway.”

  He deposited the stack of letters and circulars on the table in the hallway. Jake didn’t wait for an invitation but strolled through the house like a prospective buyer. Rich was unaccountably nervous.

  “You hungry?” he asked, feeling an inexplicable need to divert Jake’s attention.

  “Not particularly.” Jake paused by Rich’s entertainment system, tilting his head slightly to scan Rich’s DVD collection. He drifted on to the bookcase, perusing the titles silently.

  “Right, then.” Rich huffed a sigh. “Well, now that you’ve seen the place, such as it is, we should be heading on our way.”

  “What’s your hurry?” Jake asked. The raised eyebrow and the slight smile seemed slightly devilish. “I haven’t seen your bedroom yet.”

  “It’s more of the same,” Rich snapped. “Early Salvation Army with a touch of Modern Yard Sale.”

  “You underrate yourself. This is nice.” Jake indicated the house with a wave of his hand, even as he wandered down the hallway to the bedroom. Rich had no choice but to follow.

  Rich stood in the doorway to his bedroom, as if trying to see it through Jake’s eyes. There was the queen-sized bed covered by a royal-blue comforter with white accents. The blue-and-white theme was repeated in the curtains, the pen holder on the desk, and the fleece throw covering the reading chair. The framed photo of Argo on the wall above the desk, sunlight turning her coat to gold, was a particular favorite. His heart stopped when he remembered the black-and-white image of Jake wearing only briefs as he sipped a cup of coffee in Rich’s crappy kitchen all those years ago, a sly smile curving his lips.

  Jake turned to him, eyes wide with astonishment. “You keep a picture of me in your bedroom?”

  “Yeah,” Rich said. “As a deterrent to all those hot young guys I pick up for meaningless sex. Don’t want them getting any ideas, you know.”

  He’d only dug out the photo recently, having spent one too many nights looking at his digital files.

  A smile spread slowly across Jake’s face. “Come here, you.”

  What choice did Rich have but to obey? Three steps forward and he was in Jake’s arms.

  “I can’t believe you have a picture of me,” Jake murmured into his ear.

  “It hides a nasty stain that’s lying there.” Rich closed his eyes against the sudden burn of tears. He was not going to be one of those guys who got gushy and sentimental, for fuck’s sake.

  Jake’s chuckle warmed him in ways he didn’t care to admit. It vibrated against his chest, down into his bones, down into the deepest recesses of his heart, where he thought only cobwebs resided. “Are you going to tell me next you’re not in love?”

  “No.” Rich took a deep breath and placed his hands on Jake’s chest. Pushing back out of Jake’s embrace was the second hardest thing he’d ever done in his entire life. “But I’m going to ask, what do you want from me? Because I don’t think I can keep doing this push-me, pull-you routine anymore.”

  Jake nodded, as though he’d expected something like that. He took Rich’s hand, staring at it as if it were the most fascinating thing he’d ever seen. Smoothing a thumb over the back of it, he said, “I deserve that, I know. I keep telling myself I’m an adult, but my father has more influence over me than I care to admit.”

  Rich understood. How many times had he experienced a knee-jerk reaction to something because of his mother?

  Jake’s smile became rueful at Rich’s silence. “It’s official. I’m the worst boyfriend ever.”

  “Hardly. You never met some of my mother’s exes.”

  Jake flashed a glance up at him, eyes peeping out from a heavy lock of hair that had fallen forward. “Okay, maybe not the worst ever,” he agreed. “But you have to admit, I had a lot of growing up to do.”

  Rich wanted to make a dismissive gesture, but Jake hung on to his hand when he would have moved.

  “No, hear me out here. I know I’ve had it pretty easy. The thing about living a life like that is that you don’t really have a clue what it’s like for anyone else because you’ve got no other point of reference.” He frowned as he searched for words to explain. “It’s like planning to go to a big concert with your friends and forgetting not all of them can spend that kind of money. Or saying you’ll meet downtown, but you never thought how hard that would be for your buddy in the wheelchair. You don’t think about it because you can hop on the Metro or drive yourself. Either way, it’s no big deal. But to the friends without money or transportation, it is a big deal. And you come across as a jerk for not thinking about it.”

  “Okay, just for future reference, you know analogies aren’t your strong suit, right?”

  The smile Rich got took him back to lazy mornings when they’d woken face-to-face, when Jake’s happiness was the first thing Rich had seen when he opened his eyes.

  “Let me finish, and then if you want to fix my speech, have at it, Professor.” Jake mock scowled at him, and then his expression grew serious again. “The point I’m trying to make is that I was naïve and selfish eight years ago. I took you at your word. I never thought about how you’d pay for your medical bills—it didn’t even occur to me to wonder—that’s how protected and privileged my life has been. At least I had a bit of an excuse then. I was young. Sure, my mom dying when I as a kid was terrible, but I still just coasted along riding horses and dreaming of Olympic gold.”

  “I’d hardly call it coasting.” Rich frowned. “You’ve worked your ass off.”

  Jake shook his head. “For something I wanted to do. An elitist sport for the rich. And I did it with my father’s money. Worse, I’ve pretty much ridden that same course since we last met. You’re the one who’s grown. You didn’t let the accident crush you. You built a life for yourself.”

  “Also with your father’s money,” Rich said sharply.

  Jake lifted an eloquent eyebrow. “Someone needs to talk to him about letting people con him into emptying his wallet.” His puckish grin faded. “I know I’ve been blowing hot and cold on you lately.”

  Rich said nothing.

  Jake nodded as if he’d spoken. “Yeah. It didn’t help that I found out about Father’s bribe the same day he began staying at the house. I was pissed with him, and pissed with you, but I was even more pissed with myself. I wasn’t there for you—” He raised a hand to cut Rich off when he would have interrupted. “No, I wasn’t there for you. I don’t know why I let you walk out of my life like that. I wouldn’t do that today.”

  “But…,” Rich supplied, bracing himself for the part where Jake said he was no longer attracted to him physically.

  “But you deserved better than me. I needed to grow up.”

  Rich turned his head slightly to squint at Jake through narrowed eyes. “You’re not sleeping with me because you’re not grown up enough? I hate to break it to you, but statutory rape laws don’t apply here.”

  “No, dumbass.” Jake’s smile took any potential sting away. “I’ve put together a plan to buy Father out of Foxden. I gave it to him a few days ago.”

  Rich sucked in his breath. “Can you afford that? I mean, it’s not just the property—there’s the upkeep as well, including taxes. Not to mention the horses alone are worth a fortune.” Even as he spoke, he knew it wasn’t possible. Not without going to the bank for a loan, and despite the Stanford name, most banks knew the horse business was a risky one. It was why Rich only leased his barn. The banks had lau
ghed in his face.

  “I included all my winnings I’ve put back into the farm since I was sixteen as part of the down payment. It’s not chump change. Of course, knowing my dad, he’ll deduct out for room and board, in which case, I plan to point out I’ve been an unpaid employee for Foxden Farms, Inc. for the last twelve years.” Jake’s wry smile indicated just how unlikely he thought that argument would be effective. He sat down on the edge of Rich’s bed. “However, I have an ace in the hole.”

  “Oh, yeah?”

  “I got an offer on The Moose today. Winston-Dunlap offered me three hundred and fifty thousand.”

  “Over my dead body,” Rich snarled, taking an involuntary step forward.

  “It only makes sense. It’s not looking good for me to make the team. She’ll go someplace where she can live up to her potential before it’s too late for her, and I’ll be able to continue on at Foxden—or sell it if I can no longer ride.”

  “You can stuff the brave little toaster act because I’m not going to let you sell the best horse you’ve ever had—and I include Puddle Jumper in that assessment.” Rich sat down beside him. “Look, it’s too early to call it quits on this year’s Games. You haven’t even seen Rowan yet. If you want to retire The Moose, fine. Make her the foundation mare for your breeding program, but you’re not letting her go. You’ll regret it the rest of your life. I know, I sold Argo and I still wonder where she is these days.”

  “I know what I’m doing. Everyone’s talking about The Moose right now. I can probably name my price and someone will pay it. If I wait until after the Games, she’ll be just another event horse. Hell, in a couple of weeks, she’ll be forgotten.”

  “Breaking up a perfect team is stupid. You might as well sell one of your kidneys. At least you have two of those.”

  “What if I can never compete again?” Jake ran his hand through his hair distractedly.

  “It’s not the end of the fucking world. I know what this is about, this is about you wanting to make a big damn sacrifice.”

  “I want to bring some balance to our relationship. Is that so wrong?” Jake snorted suddenly. “Balance. How ironic.”