“I’ll let the club know. They won’t tow it. I’ll bring you back when you want to go home.”
Luce hedges, her eyes opening to study me a little more. Hesitantly, she nods and steps away from the horses. When she nears me, I hold out my hand to offer to her but hope she understands she doesn’t have to take it. The corners of her lips pull upward into a small smile. It should make me grin too, but my chest aches at the sight. I don’t know why, but something about it just really puts into perspective the pain that is now in her heart.
Luce takes hold of my hand and we walk out together as staff members come into the stalls to check on the horses. We move in silence toward the parking lot, only stopping briefly when I see one of the supervisors, to tell them about Luce’s truck. We approach my car, it’s my BMW, as the Bugatti is still in the shop. Opening the passenger door for her, I wait for Luce to climb inside before rounding the car and climbing in on my side.
“How many cars do you have?” she asks, her eyes scanning over the interior of the car.
“Just a few,” I chuckle, turning the key.
“A few, he says,” she mutters under her breath.
It’s a great relief to me to see her sense of humor shining through again. I hope the further away we get from the scene of the incident, the better she will feel. Laughing a little, I reply, “I need backups for when pretty women hit one.”
“Touché,” she snorts. I head out of the parking lot and shoot for the city. The Chuk Polo Club is only about ten minutes outside of the metropolitan area that borders the county border, and twenty minutes from my downtown apartment. “What is Anders’ problem?”
Her voice is meek and a little distant; understandably so. Sighing and pushing a hand through my hair, I glance her way before looking back at the road. “He’s always been a jerk… I never thought he would do something like that, though. I swear I wouldn’t have ever suggested you to go off alone with him if I thought that.”
“I believe you,” she sighs. “Just trying to understand what happened. It felt so… sudden and almost forced? As though he didn’t want me for me, but… I don’t know. My thoughts are kind of a mess.”
“It’s okay,” I assure her and rest my hand facing up on the center console. While I don’t want to force physical touch on her after something like that, I also want her to have the option if she’s someone who seeks it for comfort. After a moment, she takes it and squeezes my hand, and I return the gesture.
Even though I’ve had my hands in much more sensual places of her body already, there’s something rather intimate about hand holding. Usually, I’m not this guy. I don’t do things like handholding, hugging, or any sort of romantic PDA. It’s just not me. And yet, it feels almost instinctual with her. I haven’t any idea of what to make of that, but I know now isn’t the time to focus on sorting through that.
Mulling over her words again, I think on it for a bit before replying. “I hate to say it, but I think with a guy like Anders, it’s likely his ego.”
“What do you mean?” Luce asks softly.
Sighing, I take a moment to plan out my wording. “Anders and I are the top players in the Club. It’s possible he also found you attractive and went about it in a more aggressive way because he felt the urge to compete with me, so to speak. That stealing you away from me would be a double win for him. A win because he thinks you’re cute, and a win because it would hurt me.” I peer over to her. “But he’s an entitled jackass who took it too far because he thinks yes means yes, and no means yes.”
Luce’s eyes falter to the road and she mulls over what I’ve said. Hearing my own words aloud makes my chest ache again, fearing that my involvement somehow played a role in what happened. I suppose she wouldn’t have even been hanging around the stable that long for it to happen.
But… If he wanted to make moves on her, why didn’t he when they first came into the stable together? Something definitely didn’t feel right about it. Though, maybe he realized he had missed an opportunity and that’s why he came back and found an excuse to call her.
“Well, I hope I never have to see him again. Though, I think his horse-centered metaphors will haunt me for the rest of my days.”
“You mean you don’t wanna break me in like I’m a bad pony?” It’s a bad joke, but it falls out of my mouth before I can stop it— almost in the same fashion that comments come out of hers.