Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 75705 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 379(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75705 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 379(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
“She’ll have the same,” Amelia said. Then she leaned towards me. “Trust us, they’re the signature cocktail here. I don’t know what they put in them, but I’m pretty sure it’s illegal.”
“If not, it should be,” Charlotte agreed.
“They use your family’s bourbon,” Reid said, rolling his eyes and sitting back, his arm slung casually over his wife’s shoulder. It was adorable, but he still looked so uncomfortable.
“That explains why they are just so good.”
“So, does your father like to coach the team or something?” I asked, trying to figure out exactly what was going on.
“No,” Charlotte answered. “Well, he’s the captain of the team. Luc is chomping at the bit to take over, but I don’t think Father is going to let that happen for several more years.”
“It annoys Luc to no end that your father can still outplay men half his age,” Amelia said, laughing before taking another long sip from her drink. “But Lucian is the captain of the team and the owner.”
“He owns the team so he can be captain. That seems a little heavy-handed.”
“No,” Charlotte said, scrunching her nose as her eyes drifted up. “Father earned his place as captain years before he bought the team. The previous owner was talking about buying cheaper horses, like Kentucky Derby rejects or something, and said they would be just as good with some steroids or something, and Father wouldn’t hear of it. He said he wouldn’t destroy the sanctity of the game like that. So he bought the team and makes sure everyone has the best equipment and mounts money can buy.”
“Really?” So he didn’t mind playing by the rules when it was a game, but with my life, he would bribe judges and break as many laws as he needed to.
“Yep, the next step is to get this one out there.” She patted Reid’s arm.
“I don’t play polo. I can rope a calf, but I refuse to get on a horse just to hit a little ball with a big hammer.”
Amelia and Charlotte both teased him about life on the ranch and how now he was a big boy and could do big boy sports.
His response of football was met with more jeers and laughter.
I had to wonder, was this what my life would have been like if I’d had siblings?
The good-natured teasing and poking fun at each other while also knowing they would always have your back.
I envied Amelia and Charlotte. They had both grown up with older brothers who loved and protected them, and sisters who were like their best friends. Seeing them like this—so easily accepting of spouses into their circles and the relationship they had with their siblings extended to those spouses so easily, just to make their family larger—it almost hurt.
There was nothing quite like the joy and peace of others to make you realize exactly how alone you were in the world.
I was lost in my own thoughts, not really paying attention to what the others were saying, when I saw Lucian lead his team onto the field.
And it struck me again how unbelievably handsome he was.
He was sitting on top of his mount in polo attire, ready to do battle.
The look on his face was nothing short of fire and intensity.
This wasn’t a game to him.
It was a war.
He sat on his horse in front of his men ready to lead them into battle like a true king.
CHAPTER 25
LUCIAN
She was a distraction.
My head should have been in the game.
I should have been focused, ready to take down the opposing team, but instead, I was watching her out of the corner of my eye.
Stella was sitting with my daughter-in-law, as well as my daughter and her husband.
Stella should have been safe.
And she would have been, despite the way the liquor flowed in the VIP tent, if she’d had enough sense to sit in the fucking middle.
Instead, she was sitting on the edge, leaving the married women in the center.
Every man at this club knew who Amelia was married to, and there was no way that a fucking security guard was going to let anyone near Charlotte.
Stella, however, didn’t have that kind of protection from the vultures that liked to pick up women at polo matches for a quick nooner.
The fucking spineless bastards who liked to sit in the white tent, drinking the whisky I so graciously gave to the club at a heavy discount, and socialize like they didn’t have a care in the world.
They weren’t real men.
They were children who liked to pretend that they were refined enough to enjoy the art of polo, the mastery of the horses, and the thrill of the game, but without the balls or talent to actually play.
I couldn’t count the number of times I’ve heard them laughing, joking about the number of women, usually someone’s wife, they had lured into the forested area for a quickie.