Miles #3
I turn to Ruby, her face red with exertion, and give her a boost onto Clover. “Next half, trail Alex. If you see him go wide, I want you to pull back and go around. No one’s marking you at the moment, so take advantage of that. Clover will look after you.”
She nods. “Okay, got it.”
“I’m so fucking proud of that goal you scored. Let’s get another one.”
When I head back to the stands, the crowds have tripled. Clearly, word has gotten around that low-goal polo is the match to watch today. Before I left, one match photographer was taking photos, and now there are four. And if I’m not mistaken, a couple of sports reporters.
“Ruby’s playing really well. Clearly, she’s been paying attention in practice.”
I grin at Juan and appreciate the compliment he’s paid her.
Coming from a person who rarely speaks, let alone says anything more when a grunt will suffice, it’s huge.
But it’s true, she is. And I’ve never been so happy to be a bystander at low-goal polo.
I’ve also never been so focused on a game I have no stake in.
Turning back, the first thing I see is the opposing number three crossing the line in front of Alex, causing him to swerve Calamity hard.
“FOUL,” yell the boys in the row behind.
“FOUL,” yells Hendricks and Clementine.
“Ref, are you blind? That was a fucking foul,” I add when he doesn’t give the Otters a penalty shot.
The umpire immediately turns around and gallops over to our seats.
“Uh-oh,” sings Haven.
I know this umpire, and I like him. We’ve played together before, and I have to admit he’s fair. But I’m about to get a bollocking.
He pulls his pony up and peers down. “Miles, I understand you have a vested interest in this game, but if I hear one more peep out of you, you’ll be sent off from the stands. Got it? Let me do my job.”
“That told you,” says Clementine when he gallops off.
“Exactly, me.” I lean into her. “Next foul, you'd better be ready.”
When it happens—this time causing Ruby to almost tip from her saddle—I don’t say a word, but Haven, Story, Hendricks, Clementine, Billy, Jack, Diego, and Juan all make their objections known.
When the umpire turns around, I just shrug at him. This time, he awards the penalty.
Alex and Calamity trot up to the thirty-yard line, and he hits the ball clean between the goals.
The Otters lead three to one, and the crowd roars.
“Fuck. This is better than high-goal polo. Ruby is doing so well, don’t you think?” I turn to Hendricks, to find him staring at me. “What?”
He shakes his head. “Nothing, just happy for you.”
I know he’s not talking about the polo. “Elaborate.”
“I like you having feelings.”
“Feelings? What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”
“It means, Milo”—Hendricks lowers his voice to a whisper—“without sounding too high school . . . I think you have a crush on your wife.”
The rest of the match passes by in a blur, and when the final whistle blows, I rush to the side to take Clover’s reins.
The moment I lock eyes with Ruby, I realize Hendricks has a point. My wife is fucking beautiful. But this—heart-pounding, belly-curdling feeling—isn’t a crush. It’s crushing.
Oxygen traps in my throat, and when she slides off Clover and falls into my arms, it would take a team of wild horses to stop me from kissing her.
Sweat drips down her face, and I catch it on her lip before my tongue sinks into her mouth. Everything silences. The crowds, the ponies, the chanting of Ruby’s name.
A big hand lands on my shoulder. “Okay, Romeo, you’re attracting attention.”
Pulling away, I grin at Ruby, then Alex.
“Fucking brilliant game,” I tell him before a microphone is shoved my way.
Ruby’s way.
“Ruby, where did you and Miles meet?”
She turns to me, startled. I’m expecting her to tell them to fuck off or focus on any part of the match they just won, but she slowly grins.
“We met at New Year’s.”
“So was it love at first sight?”
A smile curves up her lip, and even I’m on tenterhooks waiting to hear what she’s going to reply.
“Actually I hated him.”
I can’t decide which I love more, the shock on the reporter’s face or Ruby’s loud cackle. But when another one butts in with another question about our relationship instead of Ruby’s insane talent, I cut it short.
“We’re done here. Next time, focus on the match.”
The helicopter blades start up in a slow whirr. As we climb into the cabin, one of the grooms runs up and hands me a thick manila envelope.
“Room assignments for the hotel, boss,” she says cheerfully, because we both know she gave them to me yesterday and I left them on my desk.
“Thank you,” I call back over the noise of the blades speeding up.
Stepping into the cabin, I take my seat opposite Ruby. Her cheeks are still pink from the match, her hair damp from her shower, and her eyes stay closed as I settle in, but I notice a tiny smile flicker on her face.
“Miles, are those the room keys?” asks Billy as the helicopter rises, and Ruby’s eyes fly open.
“Yeah.” Ripping open the envelope, I pull out smaller ones, each with our name on, and start handing them out.
Diego, Juan, Billy, Jack. I stop. The fifth envelope is labeled Miles and Ruby.
Slowly, I look up at my wife.
The person I’m sharing a room with for the next week.