Page 82 of Pretender

“This looks like quite the party,” I say, spying the lawn games at the far end of the garden.

“Where do we start?” Aiden asks. “What’s your goal for this garden party? Networking with Venetia’s friends? Meet the sponsor?” He nods towards the banner above the largest tent.

I press my lips together although I really just want to grin at him. Instead, I shrug. “Get drunk on English pretend-Champagne and beat your arse in croquet?”

“Oh, really?” He lifts his eyebrows and flashes me a playful smile.

“I suppose I could do some networking while I’m here, but the croquet mallets are calling my name.”

“Let’s do it,” Aiden says. “I’ll skip the drunk part, but I can most definitely let you beat me in croquet.”

“I want to see you drunk one day.”

“No, it’s… Not the best,” he says, preoccupied with something on his watch strap.

“One day you do need to tell me about the hole in the wall your mother alluded to.”

I bump him lightly with my elbow, and he chuckles but it doesn’t have that bass to it that makes it sound genuine.

“I won’t press it. Lightly tipsy?” I ask.

“Can do.”

“But Aiden?”

“Yes?”

“You should play your best. I’m a fucking croquet ninja,” I say, relishing just being myself with Aiden. I’d forgotten this side of me even existed. Last year, at a similar kind of party, Henry and I sipped the one drink he’d allow and walked around, arm in arm, and talked to all the potential clients for his business plans (that he neglected to tell me included taking half my company).

I really don’t want to do it like that today, and I’m fucking thrilled Aiden is on board with my childish, potentially embarrassing plan.

“Score!” I shout, throwing my hands up and I hear Aiden laughing behind me at the exaggeration—I’m only through the first hoop. I turn to him, making a mock sad face as I gesture to his ball still sitting at the start line. He chuckles at my silly humour.

I’m close enough to Aiden’s ball that I could send it across the lawn, and it could help me through the next hoop. I glance at him through my eyelashes. He’s doing the lip thing I’ve come to adore. Biting back a smile, making that dimple pop.

“I’ll just knock it into place here, and then it’s your turn.”

“Thank you, benevolent croquet queen,” he says with a bow.

“Give it your best shot. Don’t hold back.”

“Yep.”

He swings his mallet far back, as if he’s playing golf, and I can see this is not going to go well.

“Aiden!” I shout, just as he swings and hits the ball so hard it flies across the entire croquet field to the opposite end, rolls down the slight decline and stops just by the pond. When I turn back to him, I find him standing wide-eyed, his lower lip sucked in. The sight of this large, sexy man with such a helpless look on his face breaks something in me and I bend over laughing. I laugh so hard my abs hurts, and I can’t stand straight. When Aiden reaches me, I’m wheezing, hands on knees.

“Alright, lady, it’s not that funny,” he says, but I can hear the smile in his voice.

I’m a lost cause. It won’t stop. It’s a laughing fit, and the harder I try to speak or stop laughing, the harder it grips me. The tears are coming now.

“Help,” I say, clutching Aiden’s hand, and he kneels in front of me. His face is split into his biggest grin.

“Come, help me find my ball.”

“Oh my God,” I breathe as I finally manage to stand tall. I wipe the tears from the corners of my eyes, letting out the last laughs that were stuck in my chest.

But I’m stopped cold.