Miles
Iwake before the sun breaches the horizon.
Birdsong drifts in through the open window, and the moon is still bright enough for its silver light to spill through the gap in the curtains and across the bed.
I can’t breathe.
Sitting abruptly, I swing my legs over the side as I try to drag in a full breath, but there’s a tightness in my chest.
It’s so . . . unfamiliar. And I hate it. It crawls beneath my skin as I force myself to breathe again and again until eventually, I have no choice but to stand.
Turning, my eyes drift toward the shape lying beside me. Her bare back glows beneath the moonlight, framed by a shock of bronze hair.
For the first time in my life, I can agree I’ve been reckless. Never have I had sex without a condom. And now that I have—every sensation heightened and magnified—I can’t ever see myself returning to them. Or being with someone who isn’t Ruby.
The pull becomes too strong to resist, and I slip back beneath the covers beside her.
She doesn’t even stir.
I’m not usually one for overnight guests, especially not sleeping beside someone, but the moment I settle next to her, breathing in the warm, soft scent of her shampoo and skin, something under my ribs loosens.
And only then—only when I lie back down—can I finally take a full breath.
“Miles. Miles.”
I blink and look up to find Billy and Jack staring at me. Judging by their expressions, I’d say they’ve been talking for a while, yet I haven’t heard a word they’ve said.
“Sorry,” I mutter. “What?”
Billy narrows his eyes. “You okay?”
“Yeah. Fine. Just tired. Didn’t sleep well.”
Billy’s eyebrow arches suggestively. “Didn’t sleep well . . . or didn’t sleep at all?”
It’s a fair question, especially given my history. It’s something I’ve never apologized for before, nor given a second thought to. But this morning, after last night with Ruby and waking up next to her, I feel . . . different.
So, I’m definitely not in the mood for whatever joke he’s trying to make.
“What’s up?” I ask shortly.
Billy’s brows lift in surprise. He’s not used to me snapping.
“Our first match is at twelve,” Jack says slowly. “We need to decide who’s going out first.”
“Well, we’ve got Piglet and Owl, Violet and Rose. They’ve all been performing well in practice this week. I think we should try them first.”
By the time the other horses arrive later this afternoon, they’ll have rested enough for tomorrow.
I pause suddenly. “Wait. Did you say our match is at twelve?”
Jack nods. “Yeah. Pitch nine.”
“Are you sure? I thought it was at one.”
“No.” He shakes his head. “Definitely twelve.”
I shove my cap back and scratch uneasily through my curls. It’s unlike me to forget something. I normally have every schedule memorized. Every time. Every match.
But this morning, something feels like it’s fallen out of my brain.
“Miles,” Billy says carefully, “are you sure you’re okay?”
“Yes. I’m fine. I just mixed the times up.” I glance around. Juan and Diego are still out on the practice pitch, stick-and-balling, but the rest of us came back in. “Where’s Ruby?”
“She’s with Piglet,” Jack says. “Checking her over.”
Right. God, I’m distracted this morning. I barely slept, and I still can’t shake the feeling that something’s coming, and I’m unprepared.
I stand, pulling my baseball cap on. “I’m going to the steward’s office—”
“Why?”
“Because I want to double-check the schedule. I know I had one o’clock in my head.”
I don’t know if Billy and Jack mean to hide the look they exchange, but I catch it anyway.
“It’s not a big deal,” I insist even though I can fully admit I’m acting like a weirdo. “I’ll be back in half an hour.”
But before I step outside, I make a stop at Piglet’s stable and lean against the doorway. Ruby’s inside, carefully plaiting ribbons into her mane. Technically, it isn’t her job, because that’s what the grooms are for, but old habits die hard.
I stand there quietly, wrestling between disturbing her and watching her, because I do enjoy watching her.
I love the expression she makes when she’s with the ponies, the way her eyes light up, the tiny dimple that creases her left cheek that I bet she doesn’t even know about, and the way she puckers her lips to kiss their velvety muzzles.
And I especially love the way she sneaks them all carrots and thinks I don’t know.
She drops the spool of ribbon, and my gaze follows.
Those jodhpurs should honestly be illegal for what they’re doing to her arse.
I can still picture the fingerprints I left on them last night, but what’s really going to give me a full boner is the shirt she’s wearing—my colors with my name stitched across the back.
Almost like this marriage of ours is real. Because, despite the time limit hanging over us, it somehow feels more real than anything I’ve ever known.
I should probably leave before she notices me. Instead, I knock lightly against the stable door. “Hey.”
She turns instantly, smiling brightly, and even though we just spent two hours in practice, seeing her again eases the pressure in my chest. Like I’ve been underwater for too long and can finally take a breath.
“Hey.”
“How’s she looking?” I nod toward Piglet.
“Good,” she replies, patting her hind quarters. “You should ride her first.”
My grin widens. “That’s what I was thinking.”
Which is exactly part of the problem. Ruby and I are so similar in our approach, and I feel like I’ll just get used to having her counsel and then she’ll be gone.
I might play for a team, but I also own it.
I pay the salaries of the players, and at the end of the day, that’s always in the back of their minds.
Therefore, there’s an invisible line that is never crossed, but it’s not there with Ruby.
She gives it to me straight and isn’t afraid of hurting my feelings. Maybe because she knows this deal is finite.
“Great minds.” She chuckles.
Looking at Piglet’s finished braids, there’s nothing more for Ruby to do in here that the grooms can’t take over.
“What do you say to walking to the steward’s office with me? And afterward, I can show you around the grounds if we have a little time.”
As predicted, her eyes light up. “I’d love to.”
Picking up the comb and ribbon, she pats Piglet affectionately and drops a kiss on her face. Annoyingly, even after last night, jealousy flickers in my stomach.
I hold the stable door open for her, but as she passes, I trap her gently against the wall and surround her mouth with mine. My fingers curl around her nape, our tongues slip together, warm and soft, carrying too much emotional weight. But only when she moans quietly do I pull away.
“I could get used to that,” I murmur against her mouth, but don’t add that the thought terrifies me. Instead, I remove my baseball cap and place it on her head.
“What’s that for?”
“Because it suits you,” I reply, honestly. “And I like seeing you wearing my things.”
Holding my hand out, I wait until she takes it, and my fingers brush against her wedding rings. At this point, I don’t know if it’s become like a comfort blanket to check they’re there even though I can see them.
On the way out, Ruby places the comb and ribbons in the equipment room and picks up a tournament card.
“I’ve been studying this.” She waves it at me. “I think we’ll meet the Grasshoppers in the third round.”
“Really?”
She nods. “Yes. Before that, there’s the French team and a few others, but if we both keep winning, we’ll meet them in round three.”
I don’t want her to think I’m taking the piss or being patronizing, so I hold in the smile at how happy this makes me.
“And then?”
“If we win every qualifying match, we’ll face the Mighty Oaks in the final—assuming they also win all theirs—”
“If they don’t?”
“We’ll probably see the Maximum Effort Devils again.” She nods thoughtfully. “But if we lose a qualifying match but win the rest, then we’d meet the Devils in the quarterfinals. After that, there’s the Hampshire Roses—”
I stop walking and face her, chuckling at her confusion, at what I’m looking at, and why we’re not walking. But I want to see her. Because fuck me, she’s impressive.
This is what I do, and it’s what I pay Angus to do. But I know Billy, Jack, and Juan don’t. They like to focus on one opponent at a time for the big tournaments.
They prefer not to add unnecessary stress to their game. While I’d desire the same, I don’t have that luxury. I like to see all the pieces of the chessboard before I plan a strategy.
“You’ve been studying.”
She shrugs. “I like being prepared for every eventuality.”
“What a coincidence.” I grin, starting us walking again. “Because I like that you like that.”
“Good,” she says and winks at me. Such trouble. Yep, I definitely like this woman.
The polo grounds stretch around us as we leave the stable yard and enter the main thoroughfare.
The sweet scent of summer flowers hits us like a thunderbolt.
It’s not subtle or delicate, either, because flowers are everywhere.
Overflowing hanging baskets bursting with pink, orange, and red flowers fall from the lampposts, purple wisteria curls around the buildings in thick waves, and cultivated beds mark out the shapes of ponies in white and blue.
It’s bright enough that I’m grateful for my sunglasses.
We make our way down the wide central pathway that joins the grounds. It’s still early, so the groundskeepers are tending to beds, sweeping up fallen petals, and giving the flowers a much-needed watering as polo fans begin to filter through the gates.
I figured it would be quiet enough that we’d go undetected, but it’s not long before we’re stopped for photos and autographs. Much to Ruby’s astonishment, they want hers too.
“This,” she mutters under her breath, “is what being married to a polo player must be like.”
“Fuck that,” I shoot out immediately. “You’re a polo player. This has nothing to do with being married to me and everything to do with how you played yesterday.” I nod to a group of girls around ten years old. “Look at them staring at you.”
Much to my amusement, Ruby checks over her shoulder in case I’m mistaken. I’m not, and when she turns back, she gives them a small wave.
“The polo world’s small,” I continue. “Everyone’s talking about your match yesterday.”
“I don’t want everyone talking about me,” she grumbles, and a pang of guilt twinges inside me.
“Sorry, Trouble. Not much I can do about that.” Dramatically, I drop her hand and take a meter-wide sidestep. “Unless you want me to stay away from you?”
“Hey,” she says, grinning, “I never said I wanted you to stay away from me.”
“That’s good,” I murmur, resuming my position and sliding my arm around her waist. “Because I don’t have any plans to.”
My fingers dig lightly into her side, making her laugh harder, and fuck—that sound—a deep, genuine wheezy laugh, that’s so fucking funny it does dangerous things to me.
And we walk into the steward’s office still laughing, disturbing the man behind the desk, who looks up. When his eyes land on me, his shoulders straighten.
“Good morning, Lord Burlington. Delighted to have you back with us this year. How may I help you?”
I smile back and swiftly glance at his name badge. “Hi, James, I just wanted to double-check our match time. I could’ve sworn we were playing at one, but apparently, it’s twelve?”
His keyboard clatters as he brings up the schedule. “No, sir. Twelve o’clock is correct.”
“Huh.” I rub the back of my neck. “Could’ve sworn—”
“Getting a bit forgetful?” he jokes politely, his eyes sliding to Ruby.
“Apparently so.”
“Happens to the best of us. And may I say, personally, congratulations on your wedding—”
“Thank you.” Ruby’s hand calmly slips into mine, without the momentary freeze like she has been doing when anyone has mentioned our nuptials. When she smiles at me, I don’t give one shit whether it’s for show or not.
“Good luck with the tournament. We’re all expecting an excellent week of matches.”
“We’ll certainly do our best.” I nod, taking a step toward the door. “Thanks for your help, James.”
Replacing my sunglasses, I’m too busy reaching for Ruby’s hand to pay attention to where I’m going when we step back outside and narrowly avoid walking into someone heading for the office.
“My apolo—” My words die, and I freeze, though my blood hits boiling point.
“Well, well, well . . .”
The voice scrapes through me like nails on a chalkboard.
I’m staring into the black eyes of the one person I’d happily never see again. Not to mention, what the fuck is he doing here?
I studied the tournament list thoroughly. Los Tigres Luchadores isn’t supposed to be here. According to the schedules, we shouldn’t cross paths at all at this tournament. They’re supposed to be at Guards, a hundred miles down the road.
“You wanna watch where you’re going, Burlington.”
“Why? It’s not exactly your strong suit.”
His eyes narrow because at some point in time, he decided it was intimidating alongside his body covered in tattoos, but he’s nothing more than a cliché. But then his gaze drops to Ruby, and she stiffens.
“Congratulations seem to be in order,” he says, his stare never leaving her. “I know you?”
“No,” I answer flatly.
“I think I do.” He drawls, “I never forget a face. Especially one like yours—”
“Take your fucking eyes off my wife.”
He does, transferring to mine with a smirk I want to rip off his face. “Being in love is clearly agreeing with you, Burlington. If only we could all be so lucky.”
My fists ball. The only reason I don’t hit him is because I refuse to give him the satisfaction.
Ruby, however, clearly doesn’t care about restraint.
Before I can react, she snatches the hose from the groundskeeper watering the hanging baskets beside us and turns it directly on Torres. Water blasts across his chest, soaking him.
“What the fuck is the matter with you? You insane bitch.”
Ruby lets out the same wicked cackle she made yesterday when she told the reporter she hated me on sight. “Whoops. Hope you’ve got a change of clothes.”
She doesn’t let up until Torres has stormed off out of sight.
I grin despite myself. “I think that’s becoming your signature move, darling.”