Double fuck.
Miles doesn’t wait for me to respond. He gallops up the field and spins Clover without slowing, positioning her at forty-five degrees. And now I have a nine-goal player charging toward me on a world-class polo pony with the ferocity of a jousting knight.I squeeze Lemondrop, and she accelerates from standing to a gallop in less than three seconds.
It’s no wonder Miles thought Maverick was fat-looking compared to his ponies. They’re athletes honed to perfection.
Just bump, I tell myself. Bump. You’ve seen it happen thousands of times in matches.
Lemondrop gets nearer. She seemed much smaller five minutes ago when she was standing patiently next to me. Now she’s enormous.
“Shift back in the fucking saddle, Ruby, or you’re gonna?—”
Just as Miles said, Lemondrop would know what to do. She dropped her shoulder, and we bumped Clover. We bumped so hard, I bumped myself off. I fall in slow motion. Miraculously, my feet slide from the stirrups as I tumble to the ground, landing on the grass. My head flops back, and I lie there, wind knocked out of me.
Maybe if I stay long enough, the grass will grow around me, and I'll be able to have a bit of rest.
Like the good pony she is, Lemondrop stops immediately, trots back to stand over me, and sticks her soft face in mine to check I’m okay.
Miles isn’t quite so courteous.
“Well, that's one way of ending a lesson, I suppose.”
My eyes open to find him staring down at me, Clover once again looking bored. I wish the first thing popping into my head wasn’t that his eyes are the same color as the sky today.
Dismounting, he holds his hand out to me. I smack it away because I might be on my ass, but I can certainly get up by myself.
“Let’s call it for today,” he offers. “I think you’ve had enough.”
“I had enough fifteen minutes in,” I grumble, trying my best not to let him see me wince.
I already know my body is black and blue.
“You'd better get used to it, Buttercup. The season begins proper in two weeks.”
“Buttercup?”
He shakes his head. “No, you’re right. You’re too much trouble to be a Buttercup, aren’t you? Don’t worry, I’ll come up with something.”
I’m too tired to argue, so my effort is weak. “I have a name.”
“C’mon, let’s go and hose the ponies down. Maverick and Calamity should be arriving soon,” he says, totally ignoring me.
I perk up at the idea I’ll see my horse soon. It’s only been two days, but I’ve missed him. He’s the one reminder that what I’m doing isn’t completely nuts. That I’m realizing my dream of becoming a professional polo player.
Gathering up Lemondrop’s reins, Miles and I walk slowly out of the field and down the path to the stable yard. And we do so in silence. Me, because I’m too tired and too sore to think of anything to say, but that’s not Miles’s excuse. He looks like a million thoughts are going around his head, his brow pensive under his sweat-soaked curls.
I don’t ask what he’s thinking. It’s none of my business. Plus, it’ll probably be much easier to get through this summer without us knowing every sordid detail. It’s enough that we’re living together, and I’m intimate with aspects of his life I shouldn’t be.
Entering the yard, I’m surprised how calm it is.
Four hours ago, when I first arrived, it was a bustle of activity. Feeding time at the zoo. Miles arrived minutes later and promptly whisked us off to the first polo field, where two grooms and two ponies—Owl and Chester—were waiting.
But now that we’re done, I’m hoping I’ll get a tour because, on first glimpse, it’s obvious that he’s running a seriously impressive operation. In fact, I’ve never seen anything like it. Even in the polo world, where sustaining a team year in andyear out is virtually impossible on less than a net worth of one hundred million dollars, it’s still above and beyond.
As much as I’m still tempted to smack him over the head with a mallet, I can’t stop myself from complimenting him. “You have an amazing place here.”
“Ruby,” he gasps, hand clasped to his chest, “that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”
My cheeks flush even more than they already are, and a laugh escapes before I can stop it. “Shut up.”
