“Yup. My bad.”
My jaw clenches. “Yourbad.”
She spins. A pair of bright green eyes glare at me, and for the first time, I get a look at her. Agoodlook. Dressed head to toe in black, standing against the stark white walls of the shower, she’s a nineties Herb Ritts ad. Long limbs, tight curves, full lips. Stunning.
Lust stirs in me, but only until she opens her mouth again.
“Do you need me to clean your ears? I’m about to do Maverick’s here, so I can do yours too if you want.”
Whatever the hell’s going on right now, I don’t like it. I might not be based full-time at Aspen Polo Club, but I’m a nine-goal player. I’ve spent thousands of hours on polo pitches around the world, scoring goals, winning matches.
I’ve earned the respect she should be paying me a hundred times over. People know me here.
And she’s asking me if I want my ears cleaned.
“No. I fucking don’t.”
She shrugs and goes back to hosing poor Maverick, who would rather be anywhere else. If she gets kicked, it’ll be her own fault.
“You shouldn'tbe hosing him?—”
“You’d better not be tellingme how to look after my own horse?—”
“You clearly don’tknowhow to do it.”
Normally, my reflexes are much quicker, but I’m jet-lagged and not entirely sober. So when she turns the hose on me, I don’t jump out of the way in time.
“What the fuck is the matter with you?” I fume, wiping away the water dripping down my face. “This is cashmere.”
Her head falls back with a laugh. Loud, animated, and annoyingly infectious. But I’m too soaked through to find anything amusing. Too soaked to appreciate how beautiful she is—back arched, the delicate curve of her neck tipping her head back, and her full mouth, wide open, revealing very straight white teeth.
Exceptional beauty aside, it’s obvious she’s a lunatic who will not be reasoned with.
“My bad,” she calls behind me as I storm off, leaving a trail of wet footsteps. “There are towels in the locker room if you need them.” Another bellow of laughter follows her voice.
Fuck the towels. She has no idea who she’s messed with. I’m already plotting my revenge by the time I reach the outside.
More infuriating, I can’t decide if I want to fuck her or kill her.
Either way, this isn’t over.
CHAPTER 1
Ruby
Four months later
“What did you say to me?”
Damn, I thought it was quiet enough he wouldn’t hear. He’sstupidenough not to, his brain two-thirds cotton wool between his ears. On second thought, I don’t know why I’m trying to hide my feelings.
“I said you’re. An. Asshole.” There. Maybe that was clear enough for him.
A smirk curves up the right side of Scott McTavish’s thin lips, like he’s caught me with my fist in the cookie jar. God, I hate him.
“That’s it. You’re fired, Ruby.”
I take one step forward, enough that it shocks the hell out of him, and he steps back. I get perverse pleasure in watching the fear grow in his eyes.
