“Um—”
“Max, that’s not entirely true.”
He turns to Miles. “Yes, it is. I’ve ridden Clover, and Chester, and Lemondrop, and Owl,and?—”
“Well”—I stop him so he can take a breath—“let’s see how he is when we arrive in England. He’s not the friendliest.” Although all evidence from this week points to the contrary, I’m not having my visa revoked because Maverick ate Max.
Hendricks slaps a gentle hand over Max’s mouth before he can continue giving me his résumé, which is depressingly more impressive than mine. “Sorry, Max and animals of any kind are a dangerous combination. If he had his way, we’d be living in a zoo.”
“We went to the zoo in Sydney the other day, and we saw kangaroos, and crocodiles, and koala bears. But you’re not allowed to take them home. They’re protected at the zoo.”
Over his head, Hendricks rolls his lips, and his brows shoot up as if to say “see?” I get the impression that Max needed to be reminded several times that he had to leave them behind.
Thankfully, there’s a welcome change of subject.
“Ice creams?” Story thumbs behind her when no one appears in any hurry to leave the office.
“Yes, let’s go.” Hendricks stands, puts his arm around her, and drops a kiss on her temple.
“And . . .” She peers around sheepishly. “Is congratulations in order?”
“Sure is.” Miles grins, looking exceptionally pleased with himself, while my insides are churning butter. “My future wife and I will be officially betrothed tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow? Does that mean tonight is your bachelor party?”
“Absolutely not . . .” He pauses, scratching through his beard. “Although, come to think of it, I suppose it is. I've never pictured myself getting married. Therefore, no, never thought about a bachelor party?—”
“You've never pictured yourself getting married?” I ask, trying to keep the shock from my voice.
“Not really. Takes a lot to capture my heart.” He winks, and despite myself, I laugh.
I don’t know why it seems so odd to me when nothing about him remotely screams commitment.
Which begs the question, why am I doing this again?
Before we all manage to get outside, Story turns around and stops us, hands up and blocking anyone from passing.
“I’m taking charge of events tonight, and I’ve decided we’re going out for dinner. The four of us, Max . . . and Ruby, is there anyone you’d like to bring?”
I shake my head. The only person I can think of who would want to come is Meg, but she’s got the week off and drove to Denver to see her sister.
“No, it’ll just be me.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes. Positive.”
Her head tilts, regarding me with curiosity before she speaks again. “Okay then, next question, have either of you given any thought about what you’re going to wear?”
Miles’s heavy brows drop, and he glances at Hendricks. Hendricks shrugs. I’ve noticed they do this a lot, even in the brief amount of time I’ve spent with them. They communicate silently. But more than that, it seems like Miles looks to Hendricks for approval, and for someone who doesn’t seem to give a fuck what anyone else thinks, it’s almost endearing.
“No, Story, we haven’t. Considering this was only decided yesterday and today’s been taken up with getting the horses ready for flying, court filings, and paperwork meetings, wardrobe hasn’t been a top priority for us.” He glances down at his jeans, then over to me in jodhpurs and a shirt. “This is fine.”
“It isn’t fine.” If Story hadn’t already told me she was a schoolteacher, I could have guessed. She’s got that tone where you do what she says, whether you want to or not.
“If you’re getting married, then it won’t be in a pair of horse hair-covered jeans and smelling of manure.”
Turning to the side, and as subtly as possible, I take a deep sniff. She must have been talking about Miles, because I donotsmell like manure.
