Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 106150 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 531(@200wpm)___ 425(@250wpm)___ 354(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106150 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 531(@200wpm)___ 425(@250wpm)___ 354(@300wpm)
My stomach fluttered nervously.
Sitting side by side with Bash in the sunshine had been wonderful, like a step out of time. When he’d leaned closer to point out something on the field, his warm breath had brushed my cheek. When he’d laughed at one of my fake-Sterling observations, he’d thrown his head back, and our knees had knocked together. I’d found myself relaxing further and further into his side as the match had gone on, lost in my excitement about the match and the moment and the man at my side. I’d let myself forget about Sterling Chase, and Justin Hardy, and Project Daisy Chain, and the very real risk that all of this was going to explode in my face.
Now, though, that worry was back with a vengeance.
Last night, when Joey and I had flopped on the futon and traded stories—Joey’s involving a West Side Story-esque rivalry he’d ignited with a competing food delivery guy—I’d told him about my plan to attend the polo match, and his eyes had gone wide. This is bad news, cuz. You were only supposed to be Cinderella for one night. You keep pushing your luck, and you’re gonna end up holding a pumpkin.
I’d come anyway. Of course I had. I was on borrowed time, and I’d told myself I couldn’t pass up the chance to meet Justin or another investor, which was true… But another, larger truth was that I couldn’t pass up the chance to spend one more day with Bash.
For the last ten years, I’d thought of nothing but Daisy. I’d told myself I was living for the both of us since I was the only one who could. But until meeting Bash, I hadn’t felt like I was living much at all.
As Bash climbed down the ladder, I touched my fingers to my mouth. When I closed my eyes, I could still feel the weight of his lips against mine imprinted there and taste his unexpected sweetness on my tongue. And I was very glad I’d pushed my luck.
“Rowe?” Bash called from below.
“Yes. Coming.” I scrambled to the ladder and swung myself over.
Bash reached up to guide me, his hand sliding from my calf to my thigh to my hip. But instead of steadying me, his touch was electric. By the time I dropped to the ground inches away from him, sending up a cloud of dust motes and random bits of straw, I was breathless and half-hard.
“Thanks,” I said softly, trying not to stare at his handsome face. “So, um… now we go up to the clubhouse and see if Justin is there?”
“That’s up to you,” Bash said. “We can, if you’d like. And there’s a reception for donors later on that you could attend. Or…”
“Or?” I repeated with ill-concealed eagerness.
“This morning, I called and booked you a suite at your usual hotel, as well as a private dinner. If you’re tired, we could head there. I wasn’t sure if you’d be eager for more polo after…” He lowered his voice. “Sally Struthers.”
“Ah. That.” My cheeks warmed. “You know, I… may have been a bit hasty.”
Bash nodded. “Caught up in things again?”
He was talking to his boss. To Sterling Chase. And I knew that. But when he gave me that knowing, half-amused grin, it felt as if he saw me. As if he knew the real Rowe Prince. And liked him.
God, I wanted that to be true.
“Definitely caught up,” I murmured.
Bash nodded again and watched me expectantly, waiting for me to make a decision. Would we stay and mingle or leave? Take a chance at finding Justin or make our escape? Did I want the business deal or the fairy tale? This could be my last chance at either.
I took a deep breath… and Bash lifted his hand to gently touch my hair. My breath hitched, and my whole body leaned toward him, like Bash was an archer and I was a bow.
“Sorry. You had a little piece of…” He flicked a bit of straw off his fingers and let it drift toward the ground, but his eyes locked on mine. “Rowe,” he began breathlessly.
“The hotel,” I croaked. “We should go to the hotel.”
Maybe it was reckless and shortsighted, but I chose the fairy tale.
Bash and I spent the short ride to the hotel talking about light topics that did little to diffuse the tension in the air between us. The best polo matches he’d seen. The weather forecast. The hit single from Zee Barlo on the radio, which I knew all the words to and Bash claimed was “not as good as his early stuff.” I would have maybe argued with him about that, but by then, we were pulling up to a large inn that looked light-years out of my price range.
My stomach clenched. Of course a place like this would be Sterling Chase’s usual hotel. I really hoped someone else was paying for it because I didn’t even have a credit card to pretend to pay with. And I was going to have to save up for eternity to pay them back.