Page 16 of Run for the Money

He snorts. “By the time Mom decided to move, I was twenty. Couldn’t leave ’til the custody arrangement ran out when I was 18, and I’d been trying to strike out on my own for a while. Couldn’t figure out why I kept getting denied for apartment rentals. Then I ran my credit report. Turns out it’s pretty easy to steal your kid’s identity when you give them your own name.”

I scoot my cocktail across the bar toward him. One corner of his mouth twitches, which is basically a smile for him, and he takes a sip.

“At that point, he’d racked up about $150,000 of debt in my name and hadn’t paid a single cent. Mom talked to a lawyer, and it would have cost more than that to try to prove my dad was the Nicholas Korbel who took out the loans and opened the credit cards, and we still might lose. After two years of failed attempts at negotiating with my dad and the banks, we opted to pay it off. I told Nicholas I’d come after him with every legal trick in the book if he pulled this shit again, he swore he wouldn’t, and I thought that was that.”

I gasp, his story and my own memories clicking together. “That’s why Lisa took the money Diana’s parents offered, even though she’d promised to coach me.”

He nods. “So you can blame my old man for that, too. We were really looking forward to working with you. Your riding is more my mom’s style than Diana’s was.”

“What a butthead,” I grumble. “I really wanted to work with your mom. She was my idol. I had the profileHorse & Hounddid on her framed on my bedroom wall.”

“Butthead?” His mouth twitches again.

The bar’s a little warm so I sweep my hair off the back of my neck, heat radiating off my skin. It almost feels like a blush. Almost.

“Am I wrong?”

“Nah, it’s accurate. Anyway. Once I paid off his debt, I needed a break from show jumping and racing. I’d seen too much…waste. The horses. You and Diana. But turns out addiction runs in the family. Nicholas can’t quit gambling, and I can’t quit horses. I bought some property, moved Edwin out to Colorado, and we started up my ranch. Things were pretty good. I was stable, finally,” he says wistfully. “Then I started getting fuckin’ letters about missed mortgage payments and delinquent accounts. Nicholas mortgaged my damn property five years ago. The bastard—sorry, Miss Manners, thebutthead—had been making payments from his gambling winnings, moving money around and around to keep the mortgage a secret. Guess it all finally caught up to him, ’cause he hasn’t made a payment in a year.

“Now I can’t convince the bank I’m not the one who mortgaged a property I owned outright. Their internal fraud investigation was a joke, and I can’t afford to both pay a lawyer to work the case for meandcover my regular bills. I could make the mortgage payments to avoid foreclosure, but then I run the risk of inadvertently accepting responsibility for the debt.”

“Plus, if your dad gets away with it, who’s to say he won’t do it again?” I offer sadly.

He shrugs. “There’s that, too. It’s why I reached out. My idea was to boost the ranch’s profile. Use your star power to get more students, and better name recognition. I want to make it harder for Nicholas to pretend to be me, and that means I have to stop being such a recluse. The prize money would help, sure, but I’m not using you for the money. I’m using you for your talent.”

My head spins. It’s a terrible plan. Nineteenth place isn’t going to accomplish any of his goals—but there’s a warm glow in my belly from his confession anyway. Mystar power? It’s not a pedestal I expected to land on, and I have serious doubts about how long I can stay on it, but I don’t mind the view. Then again, it’s the view that landed me in a hotel bar in Wyoming, saddled with nineteenth place.

“Might have been a good plan fourteen years ago. I’m not as good as I used to be,” I say cautiously.

He shakes his head. “You’re the dark horse, excuse the pun. Together, we can do this. I spent so much time learning your strengths and weaknesses to help Diana that I’m your perfect coach. No one’s expecting you to compete, let alone excel, so while they’re all focused on each other, you can pull ahead. We could go far with this, Mel. You just have to trust me.”

I visibly shudder at the nickname. Nick’s regular frown ticks a notch deeper and he leans back from me slightly. I’m not sure when he leaned in, but I’m tempted to close the distance again.

“It was unfair for me to put that pressure on you, and especially unfair to do it without telling you,” he says earnestly. “I understand if you want to withdraw, but for what it’s worth, I don’t want you to quit. I’ll be a better coach. If you’re still in, so am I.” He pauses to take another sip of my cocktail, then angles his head toward me, curious. “Why’d you agree to this, anyway? I never asked.”

The warm glow snuffs out. I don’t want to talk about it, but Nick’s being so open with me. It might never happen again, and I don’t want to lose the chance to peek underneath his armor, so I’ve got to give him a glimpse underneath mine. A sobering thought hits me: this really might be the last chance I have if I don’t place tomorrow. For some reason, it makes my stomach hurt.

“It’s been a rough six months for me,” I say. “I went through a pretty brutal break-up, and I’ve been feeling lost. I used to love show jumping more than anything. I guess I thought if I could recapture what I lost when I quit, I wouldn’t mind the pain of the break-up so much. You haven’t exactly gotten the best version of me. Sorry.”

“No need to apologize. I haven’t been on my best behavior either,” he says with a shrug.

“You had me fooled,” I deadpan.

“Yeah, yeah, mock me when I’m trying to be nice,” he says, no malice in his voice. “But hey—now you know why I get testy about you calling me Nicholas.”

His mouth does the twitching thing, and I smile at him in return. Then, since he’s offered me another olive branch, I give him one back.

“My ex called me Mel. Used to love it. Now, hearing it makes me want to throw barstools through plate glass windows.”

He nudges the side of my foot with the toe of his boot.

“Go on, then. Gimme the details. I told you all about my daddy issues. What’s your break-up baggage?”

I eye the whiskey sour in front of him, then opt for a swallow of his beer instead. It’s lukewarm and too frothy, but he’s right. I shouldn’t be downing hard liquor the night before an important race.

“We were together for four years, then in May he dumped me out of the blue,” I start. “Said it’s not fair to me to stay together when he doesn’t love me the way I deserve and he’s just standing in my way.”

Nick winces. “So he was cheating on you?”

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