“You heard too?”
“Sheila, our publicist, has had her phone ringing off the hook. Before you worry, she’s skipping through the office. She loves this. ‘Because if I get another call about how you feel about fracking somewhere, when the answer is always, he’s decisively against fracking, I’ll scream,’ her words. And she knows the response is, it’s none of their business, not in those words, but she still thinks this is the shit.”
“Well, there’s that,” I muttered.
“Is that why you called?” he asked.
“Well, yes, and no, since I have not spoken to my publicist. But she does have experience with this. And my PA is no fool. So she shared ahead of my publicist doing the same that this could get ugly.”
“How?”
“Well…” God dammit! “Tom and I were really a favored couple, Bowie. And things can get nasty, and inappropriate, but there’s no stopping it and—”
“Again, do I give a crap about this?”
“Well, when Team Tom wins in the race over Team Duncan, you might.”
He burst out laughing.
I sat in stunned silence, listening to him.
When he got control of himself, he asked, “I get the sense you two salvaged things, so your kids don’t have to deal with your garbage, like me and Dora did, but is it over?”
“I wouldn’t start things with you if it wasn’t.”
“So I’ll repeat, do I give a crap about this? Team Tom can win, but you’re still about to ride my horses, have lunch with me, dinner at my house, you’re gonna be in my bed, and we’re gonna work it out so we’re in each other’s lives. Not that it’s a competition. But still. I win.”
I closed my eyes and turned my head, taking a minute, and not simply because I was glad he’d stated we were having dinner at his house.
“Gen?” he called when I said nothing.
I opened my eyes and said something.
“It means a great deal to me that you’re taking this like you are, Bowie. Being Imogen Swan is a lot. That I can be Gen with you, hell, that I’m just Gen to you, means everything.”
“Baby, you are not just Gen to me. You’re Imogen Swan, famous actress. You’re also Genny, the girl who didn’t mind getting mud up to her knees and twigs in her hair when we went off trail on our hikes. And Gen, the girl who I looked to in the stands when I played football and could hear my father shouting over everyone else, coaching me from the sidelines. Also Genny, the hot piece I came home to who met my hunger, stroke for stroke. And now, Gen, a great mom, an interesting woman, and still a really hot piece I wanna sink into. Yeah?”
“You can’t talk sex talk if you’re going to slow things down, Bowie.”
“I’m speedin’ a few things up tonight, since Chloe just texted and told me she has to get back to her shop, which means she’s returning here at some point, but we got a window. She’s leaving after your ride. And you’re spending the night at my place. So when you come over tonight, bring clean panties. And Cookie.”
Oh my.
“Can I make spaghetti and meatballs?”
“You can do whatever you want.”
“I need to get showered and go ride with my girl, Bowie.”
“I’ll let you go then. But Gen?”
“Yes?”
“It wasn’t our time before. This is our time. Don’t let outside shit fuck with your head. We’re us. We always connect. We’ve got this.”
“You’re right, darling.”
“I am, baby. Now go. See you in a few hours.”
We said our goodbyes and hung up and I instantly thought of Tom.
Perhaps his jealous spate had not subsided.
He would feel no joy if Team Tom won out.
Because he’d know Duncan was the true winner.
And Tom had held up a number of shiny trophies to the cheering crowds.
So he was an excellent competitor.
And a very sore loser.
Chapter 15
The Meal
Duncan
* * *
Duncan probably broke a record, by a long shot, getting out of his car and hauling his ass to the door to the kitchen after he’d pulled into his garage and saw Genny’s Cayenne there.
Clearly, Bettina had seen to things as he’d asked, giving her a remote.
He’d also instructed she give Genny a set of keys.
He doubted she failed in this endeavor.
He walked in and was accosted by dogs.
And the smell of garlic.
Last, his first vision of Genny, his old Genny, from back in the day, standing at his range.
Bare feet. Jeans. And a River Rain tee Chloe had stolen and given her to wear riding so she didn’t sweat on her fancy duds.
She’d changed when she came to meet him for lunch but had admitted then that her daughter had light fingers.
He’d told her he’d already learned that, and he didn’t care.
It was too big on her and she’d knotted it at the waist.
She looked amazing in it.