Fool's Gold

by Sarah Madison

  Jake pressed his forehead into Rich’s chest as their breathing slowed. Neither of them wanted to move, but the weight of Jake’s body was starting to hurt. Rich shifted slightly, not wanting to be the one of break the connection, but to his relief, Jake slowly raised himself up on his arms and eased off Rich. Rolling to his side, he lay beside Rich, panting.

  A backhanded slap to his shoulder woke Rich out of a near-doze. “What?” he complained.

  “I can’t believe you kept that from me, you bastard. Now I know why you were always so ready to bottom.” Jake lifted Rich’s hand to his mouth for a kiss, and then let both their hands fall back to the bed. “The good news is we can make up for lost time.”

  “And the bad news?” Rich had to know.

  “The bad news,” Jake said sadly, “is that you’re out of food.”

  “Oh shit,” Jake breathed as Rich drove them up to the house the following morning.

  Rich shot him a look but said nothing, instead parking the car beside the big Mercedes. There was no room to park in the usual spot. That was occupied by a commercial moving van.

  “He’s kicking me out.” Jake leaned over the dash to peer up at the house.

  “Why would he do that?” Rich found it impossible to believe Stanford would act so precipitously without even waiting to see if Jake was going to recover. Still, maybe he saw something at the hospital that changed his mind? Or perhaps it was because he and Jake didn’t come back right away. That was it. Nausea turned his stomach. This was his fault. Not that he regretted a single moment of his night with Jake. If Stanford was going to kick his son out over that, so be it.

  Easy for you to say.

  “I gave him the papers last week. Told him I wanted to buy him out. He must have done the math and knows I can’t do it on my own. Not without making sacrifices. This is his answer.” Jake hit the dash with his fist.

  “Under no circumstances are you to sell The Moose,” Rich said. “My offer still holds. We can sell my house and throw that into the kitty to buy out your father.”

  “You don’t even know if I’m going to be able to ride.”

  “What difference does that make? We’re a team, me and you. Regardless of the vertigo—which I fully believe you’ll kick—we’ll have to consolidate barns at some point anyway. Like I said last night, my lease is up at the end of the year. That will give my students time to decide if they want to come with me or find another trainer closer to home.”

  “You shouldn’t hitch your wagon to a potentially lame horse.” The look on Jake’s face hurt to see.

  “Regardless of how hot the horse is?”

  “Especially under those circumstances.”

  “I walked away from you once. I’m not doing that again. So you’re just going to have to put up with me.”

  Jake sighed and pushed his hand through his hair. “Okay, if you’re determined to go through with this, then I’ll accept your help only if you go down on paper as part owner. We’re partners in this, sink or swim, okay?”

  “’Til death do us part,” Rich quipped. He offered his hand. Jake shook it with a tight smile. “Come on.” Rich opened the car door and got out, stretching. “Let’s go face the music.”

  They had to step aside to let movers come past with several heavy boxes, headed for the back of the van.

  “Where do you think he’s sending my stuff?” Jake asked, frowning as they mounted the front porch stairs.

  “Ah, Jake. Richard. There you are.” Stanford came out of the study with a box in his hand, which he passed to another mover. “Come in. We should have some privacy here.”

  Jake exchanged another glance with Rich, who lifted his eyebrows and shrugged. He followed Jake into the study.

  Stanford opened his mouth as if he meant to ask Rich to excuse himself, but Rich was having none of it. Not unless Jake asked him to go.

  Stanford caught his eye and gave a little sigh, as if he expected nothing less.

  “So you’re kicking me out, then.” Jake made it a statement, his voice flat and uncompromising.

  A fleeting look of hurt skimmed Stanford’s features. “I supposed I deserve that.” He passed a hand over his mouth and shook his head slightly. “I’ve looked over your proposal for buying Foxden, and I consider it extremely unfair.”

  Jake bristled beside him. “If it’s more money you want—”

  “My house is worth two hundred and fifty K,” Rich tossed in.

  Stanford continued as though neither had spoken. “For the last eight years, you’ve put every penny you’ve earned back into the farm here, including prize money. Sadly, that doesn’t offset the costs of showing a single horse for a season, but you’ve also managed the stables and sales side of things. Overall, you’ve put in nearly half a million dollars into running Foxden, and despite being an expensive venture, it has paid its way—barely—each year under your management.” He paused, his eyes narrowing. “The property and livestock have been valued at two million dollars. By anyone’s account, you’ve made a more than adequate down payment.”

  He cleared his throat. “I, on the other hand, have done you a great disservice.” He flicked a glance over at Rich and then redirected his focus to Jake once more. “I haven’t treated you like an adult, and I haven’t let you make your own decisions in life. That was wrong of me. I intend to set it straight now. Foxden Farms, Inc. is yours, Jake. But if you take it, that means from here on out, you’ll have to make things work on your own, without my financial safety net.”

  A small smile creased Stanford’s face. “So you see, I’m not kicking you out. I’m kicking me out.”

  “What?” The word involuntarily escaped Rich’s mouth.

  “You’ll be facing some tough choices in the near future. Can you afford to pay the current staff? Should you push forward in your goal for Olympic gold or put your resources into running the farm? I have to tell you, the landscaping alone runs about ten thousand a year here, and yet if there’s one thing I’ve learned in business, if you don’t look the part, people won’t pay you what you’re worth. Either way, no matter what you decide to do, it’s your choice. I’ll sign the deed over to you. You could turn around and sell everything the next day. It’s your decision to make. I’m sure there are some people who will say I abandoned you in a time of need, right before the Games. I don’t see it that way. I have every confidence you’ll do what’s best for you and the farm. I’m placing it in your hands. You’re an adult, and a competent and dedicated one at that. I’m just cutting the apron strings, that’s all.”

  “You’re giving me Foxden?” Jake’s eyebrows disappeared into his hairline.

  “You deserve it. Take the money from the sale of Evans’s house and use it to fund your Olympic run if needed, or put it back into the running of the farm. Either way, it’s up to you now. If you need a loan until the house sale goes through, ask me. I’ll loan you the money, but it will be only a loan. I’ll expect you to pay me back when your funds come in.”

  Jake looked at Rich. A smile started to form, then petered out. “I might not be able to compete anymore.”

  Stanford coughed. “Yes, well, about that. Remember what I said about advertising?”

  A discreet tap on the door interrupted him.

  “Yes?” Stanford called out.

  The door opened, revealing a woman in a business suit, clipboard in hand. She was probably in her fifties, but her auburn hair and slim figure let her pass for forty. “Ah, Mr. Stanford. And this must be Jake. I’ve heard so much about you.” She stepped into the room, holding out her hand to Jake, who shook it politely.

  She held it a bit longer than necessary, raking him with an assessing glance. “Wow,” she said at last, letting go of Jake’s hand to glance at Stanford. “Having seen him in person now, I’d say forget the soup ads and go straight for the sports and cologne offers. You don’t want to waste that smoldering sex appeal.”

  “Excuse me?” Jake turned red.

  She smiled at Stanfor
d. “He really has no idea, does he?”

  “Jake. Richard. Allow me to introduce Ms. Sabrina Harris. She’s part of my PR department. Tell him, Sabrina.”

  She consulted her clipboard. “As of ten a.m. this morning, you’ve received seventeen promotional contracts from various companies wanting you to endorse products. Having seen you in person, I’d say your best bet is to focus on your athleticism and good looks.” She looked up to flash Jake a smile.

  “No offense, ma’am, but I’m an athlete, not a model.”

  “Isn’t he adorable?” Sabrina said to Stanford. Turning back to Jake, she added, “David Beckham made more money after he retired than he did playing soccer. We’re talking millions here. Of course, soccer is a popular sport and hardly anyone has heard of eventing, but you’re riding a high now, due to the repeated airing of your last competition. Everyone’s in love with you and your horse. I dare say your ability to translate your fame into lasting endorsement potential would be stronger if you won at the Olympics, but there’s no reason why you can’t make hay while the sun shines now.”

  Jake rubbed the side of his face. “What exactly are you suggesting?”

  “Take one of these offers. I’d go with the cologne if I were you. They’re launching a new brand called Thoroughbred, and you’d be perfect for it. Better yet, the company is based in New York. You could probably fly up for a few days, shoot the ad, and return without too much disruption to your schedule. It would be a nice infusion of cash into your coffers, and if the cologne is a success, they’ll want more ad work. If in the meantime you’ve become an Olympic champion, it will increase your cachet.” She pulled a paper from her clipboard and handed it to Jake.

  Rich leaned in to read over his shoulder. It was a printed email, stipulating the offer. “Holy crap,” he yelped. “They’ll pay that much for standing in front of a camera?” He nudged Jake’s shoulder. “You have to do this.”

  Jake twisted his head slightly to glare at Rich. “Are you insane? Do you really think I need more on my plate right now?”

  “Tell them you need twenty-four hours to make sure it won’t conflict with your schedule before you give them an answer. In the meantime, we’ll have seen both Rowan and her chiropractor. By then, you might have more information. Seriously, Ms. Harris is right. This is a limited-time offer. Take advantage of it while it’s there.”

  “I’ll think about it.” Jake didn’t sound too pleased. Still frowning, he turned to his father. “You don’t have to move out, Dad.”

  Stanford glanced around the room before answering. “Yes. Yes, I do. This needs to become your place, Jake. And while there have been some good memories here, it’s no longer my home. It’s time I moved on in other ways as well. Besides, I don’t want to, uh, cramp your style.” He coughed into his fist and turned bright red, studiously not looking at Rich. He did, however, involuntarily glance at Ms. Harris. Her mouth twitched into a small smile.

  “It’s a lot to take in.” Jake still looked a little dumbstruck.

  Stanford nodded. “I realize that. Well, you know my motto—”

  “No major decisions without a decent meal and a good night’s sleep.” Jake finished his sentence for him.

  Stanford’s heavy brows lifted. “Well, it’s nice to hear that something I’ve said over the years stuck with you.” His smile, so reminiscent of Jake’s, tempered any inclination to hear judgment in his words. “The movers shouldn’t take long. I’ll be out of your hair in a few hours. In the meantime…?”

  “I want to check on the horses after their trip. Rowan will be here later this morning, and then I’m going to see the chiropractor.”

  Stanford nodded. “Well, let me know what both of them have to say. I’m sure I’ll see you again before we leave.” He nodded at Rich.

  It was weird being included in the conversation like that. What had changed Stanford’s mind about him? Had Rich just grown on him over time, like some sort of impossible-to-get-rid-of mold? It didn’t seem likely. Even when they’d watched television together, there’d always been a bit of distance between him and Stanford as both of them did their best not to snipe at each other for Jake’s sake. No, the complete thawing was a recent event. Maybe seeing Jake come off The Moose during the competition had shaken Stanford up. Whatever it was, Rich knew better than to look a gift horse in the mouth.

  “Have you got your tickets?” Rich asked for the umpteenth time.

  “Yes. Passport too. Relax, we’ve got this covered.”

  “Easy for you to say.” Rich flicked through the papers in his hand, selecting his e-ticket. He stuffed the rest back into his carryon bag. “Most of my clients don’t compete on this level, you know.”

  “I know.” Jake grinned and bumped him with one shoulder. “But you had Tom’s help, right?”

  For once, Rich didn’t look completely in control of the situation. His hair sat up in fuzzy little tufts, and he had dark circles under his grass-green eyes. The fine, blond stubble on his jaw caught the sunlight as he turned his head to look out the huge glassed-in windows. Behind them, people flowed through the revolving doors, dragging their luggage along. The couple in front of them stepped up to the counter and began the process of checking in. “Thank God for that,” Rich sighed, facing Jake again. “Before Branham, I’d never shipped a horse internationally before.”

  “Now that we’re going to Rio, it should be old hat to you.”

  Rich’s grin lit up his entire face. “We’re going to Rio.”

  They were next in line. After checking their bags, they threaded their way to the escalators that would take them up to the security checkpoint. Rich adjusted his bag on his shoulder and glanced back at Jake as they slowly rode to the next level. “Your dad planning to see us off?”

  Scenes from the D.C. area adorned the walls around them. Ads for hotels, images of the Washington monument and the Capitol building, as well as a large poster for the National Zoo provided something to look at while they rode to the top.

  “No, but he’s planning to come down a few weeks before the Games start. He rented a villa—God knows what that cost him—and wanted me to know we had an option of staying with him instead of in the Olympic Village.”

  Rich’s eyes widened briefly in horrified surprise before he controlled his expression. “What did you tell him?”

  Jake snorted at Rich’s obvious dismay. “No worries. I told him staying in the Village was part of the experience, but that we’d be happy to join him for dinner when we could. Besides, he’s bringing Sabrina Harris with him.”

  Rich whistled softly. “So that’s the way the wind blows.” He focused a keen glance at Jake, gauging his reaction, no doubt. “You okay with that?”

  Jake nodded. “Yeah. I want him to be happy, you know? The way we are.”

  Rich turned bright red, his flush starting at the base of his collar and running straight up to his cheekbones. He was ridiculously adorable. “Yes, well….” Something across the escalators caught his eye, and his mouth hung open in shock for a second. He punched Jake in the arm. “Look.” He pointed at one of the ads on the opposite wall. “It’s you.”

  And so it was.

  Jake was startled to see his face plastered on the wall in view of the general public. Intellectually, he’d known this would be the case when he agreed to the ad campaign, but the reality was something else. The ad for Thoroughbred cologne loomed large as they approached it. The photographer had done wonders with the picture, especially after three days of failed efforts to create the image the company had wanted. In the ad, Jake was looking slightly to one side. His glance tilted up from under his messy hair, and there was a small, incredibly seductive smile on his face. He was dressed in a white tailored shirt open at the neck, one hand pulling his tie askew. It had been Rich’s idea for him to skip shaving for a few days, and the ad people had waxed enthusiastic about his “rugged, masculine aura.” Except for his eyes and the gold lettering on the bottle of cologne in the corner of the ad, the re
st of the photo was in black and white. It was striking, to say the least. Jake had no idea he could look like that.

  And the only reason he did was because, after hours of frustrating failure to secure anything other than stiff, unrealistic poses, he’d asked Rich to bring him a sandwich. When Rich walked into the studio, Jake had looked up with a smile.

  “Like that,” the photographer had cried, the whir of the camera going nuts as he took photo after photo. “No, don’t look at the camera, look at him. Look at him!”

  By walking into the room, Rich had saved the photoshoot. Now Jake’s face graced the billboard wall at the airport. Soon it would be on the backs of buses and featured in magazines. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that.

  “Man, are you hot or what? I mean, I always knew you were hot, but damn.” Rich stretched the word damn out until it had two syllables. The older woman on the escalator in front of him glanced back with a smile just before they reached the top. She stumbled and caught herself before falling when the belt disgorged them onto the concourse.

  “I have a hot boyfriend,” Rich singsonged as they headed toward the security checkpoint. As they passed a duty-free shop, Rich nudged Jake and pointed to the large poster of Thoroughbred in the window. A couple of women had paused to stare at the image, and one took out a cell phone and snapped a picture of it.

  “I hope I’m not going to regret doing that ad.” Jake could only imagine the reaction of his teammates.

  “Beats the hell out of seeing your face on cereal boxes. Just remember you’re mine and everything will be okay.” The grin Rich gave him was pure evil. “I take it we’re meeting the rest of the team at the gate?”