Total pages in book: 36
Estimated words: 32995 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 165(@200wpm)___ 132(@250wpm)___ 110(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 32995 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 165(@200wpm)___ 132(@250wpm)___ 110(@300wpm)
Rupert is looking at me in a funny way. I can’t tell if he wants to laugh at me, smile in understanding, or something else entirely. This is exactly what I mean. People are complicated with layers and intricate, muddled thinking. Not to mention their own motivations. Whatever is going on in his head, he’s making a heat come back to my cheeks with his stare.
“Sounds like you’re really good with horses,” he comments.
“Better than I am with people, clearly,” I sigh. “Hang on.”
I pull my sweatshirt up over my head. I had only put it on because I thought I was spending the afternoon being blasted by the AC in my truck. And I’ve only kept it on this long because I was feeling shy about being seen in a camisole. I have always been a bit on the heavy side, though I evened out decently after puberty. All the torment I went through as a kid still haunts me though, and makes it hard to have so much skin exposed.
Not to mention my love handles and stomach, now clearly on display.
Purposefully avoiding Rupert’s face, I look back to the horses and try to focus on the game. His eyes are on me though, raking over my body. Emotion balloons in my throat and I can feel myself getting anxious all over again. This sort of nervousness, though, results in word vomit or crying. What a fun game to figure out which will happen!
“Doesn’t it feel a bit silly to swing a little hammer around like that in dress clothes? It all feels very regal and posh to have such a silly looking bat,” I comment.
Oh good, we are resorting back to rambling. I suppose it’s better than blubbering.
“It’s called a mallet,” Rupert chuckles. “I suppose when you look at it removed from the situation, it can seem silly.” Then, his breath is on my ear. “Not as silly as wearing a sweatshirt in summer.”
“Well, listen, hitting a Lamborghini Bugatti Ferrari, having beers, and watching croquet wasn’t on my agenda for the day,” I say defensively. As much as I hate it, I cross my arms over my stomach in an attempt to hide myself.
“Funny. I call that a standard Tuesday,” he joked.
At last, I look up to him to see what he is getting at. My breath is stolen away by the tenderness in his expression. His eyes are shimmering, his lips are upturned in a smile, and his gaze continues to fall to my lips. He’s not judging or making fun of me… He’s…flirting? My mind really can’t process such an idea. There’s no way that this hot, successful polo player likes me like that.
Rupert clears his throat and pans his vision back to the field. There’s something tense in the air, but I really can’t decide if it’s all in my head or not. After a few minutes of agonizing over the thought and watching the game, Rupert nods over his shoulder. “We should probably get going,” he suggests.
“Yeah,” I mumble, clearing my throat.
The last thing I want right now is to get going, but who am I kidding? Obviously, he feels like he’s done his duty, put the poor blubbering girl back at her ease and helped her walk off any lingering effects of the alcohol.
Why on earth would he want to spend any more time with me after that?
We head down a path that I can see leads to the parking lot. I can tell that he’s moving at a leisurely pace, his hands in his pockets and his shoulders relaxed. I still sense a tension lingering between us, but it has to be in my head. Maybe it’s a good thing we are leaving now, so that I can clear my mind and get a grip.
“How far is the ranch from here?” Rupert asks, his voice as breezy and sultry as ever.
“Forty-five minutes or so. Why?”
He shrugs, another smirk on his face. “Just making conversation. Besides, if this horse you dropped off today does well, just maybe I’ll have to come by and see about getting one for myself.”
Right. It’s about business. That makes sense. And yet, why does my heart patter just at the thought of seeing him again?
We approach my truck and I unlock the door. “Well, thanks for not caring I totaled your super expensive, imported, luxury sports car,” I comment, turning to look at him.
He’s bathed in the light of the golden hour and honestly, I don’t think I’ve ever laid eyes on someone so beautiful. Not in person, at least. Rupert looks like he belongs in a commercial for cologne or something else fabulous and sexy. The tan of his skin is warmer, making his bright blue eyes pop even more. They’re like the color of Caribbean waters, or Neptune even.