He knocks it into the goal and everyone cheers. I’m clapping and jumping up and down with excitement. I suppose the small crowd isn’t so invested, as they start to wander off already. I’m watching with eager eyes for Rupert to head our way. However, he’s moving toward the center of the field. He jumps off Delmar and stumbles a bit before standing straight and ripping off his helmet.
“Is this part of the game?” Sierra whispers.
“I don’t think so,” I whisper back. The two guys are yelling at each other. I see a commotion out of the corner of my eye and I glance over to see a couple stable employees, Rupert’s nephew, and a guy in a suit jogging out onto the field. “Let’s go,” I urge and hurry toward the gate with her.
We probably shouldn’t be on the field, but I don’t care. I want to know what’s going on. As we near, we can hear the argument more clearly. “He shouldn’t even fucking be here!” Rupert hollers at the man in the suit. “I want him removed from the property.”
“Now, Mr. Lee, please, let’s settle down…” the man in the suit urges.
“No,” he demands. “He’s harassed women, he’s making illegal moves on the field, and he thinks he’s entitled to it all just because he pays to be here.” Rupert jabs a finger in his direction. “Either you revoke his membership, or I’m not playing here anymore. I’ll find other boarding for my horses, rescind future donations, and ensure that my sponsors are aware of the behavior you allow to be conducted in your club.”
“Ru, please,” his nephew says as he goes to touch Rupert’s arm.
Rupert jerks away from him and raises a hand in a stop motion at his nephew before looking back to the manager. “Make a decision. I won’t be back until I hear from you. Luce, let’s go.”
He walks our way and we are quick to follow him. Sierra extends a beer his way, “Good job out there…”
“Thank you,” he mutters but shakes his head to decline the beer. “I’ll drive. You enjoy that one.”
“Eww, no,” Sierra mutters as she hands the beer to me. I’ve never seen her drink one in her life.
When we approach the parking lot, I gently take hold of Rupert’s hand. “What exactly happened?” I ask him, my face etched with worry.
He wipes his mouth with his free hand and takes a deep breath. “Supposedly my scrimmage partner couldn’t make it and Josh showed up. I told him to fuck off, but he got cocky and rude… I should have still walked off but I figured maybe mopping the floor with him would humble him or something…” Rupert explains and then shakes his head. “It was stupid and he purposefully hit my ankle with his mallet right before the final round. I’m guessing he thought it would hurt enough for me to fuck up so he could win. He should have never been here to begin with.”
I ease, glad that I had been right about his character. I’m sure he would have warned me if he had known beforehand that it was going to be Anders. There are more pressing issues now, though.
“How about I drive and we go to the ranch? So we can treat your ankle and you can relax,” I suggest.
He shakes his head. “I promised you both dinner… Hi, by the way,” he mutters to Sierra.
“I’ll cook,” I state. “Don’t argue with me. I won’t have it. Get in the truck.”
Rupert glares at me for only a moment before his shoulders relax and a faint grin cracks across his face.
Chapter Twelve
Rupert
I’m sandwiched between the two women as we ride into the countryside. Even though the ride is a bit bumpy, I’m soothed already by the country air, their duet of what I’ve been told is a soundtrack that has been lodged in the truck radio for a year, and Luce’s presence. It’s something a man like me needs, but doesn’t know it until we experience it again for the first time in ages.
Simplicity.
We pull up to a small, one level white house with cornflower-blue shutters and an adorable array of garden gnomes lining the walkway to the porch. Piling out of the truck, Luce puts an arm around my ribs and helps me inside. My ankle isn’t so bad that I need the help to walk, but I’m not going to tell her that. I like her this close. She smells like cherry blossoms and vanilla today. I wonder if it’s a shampoo or a perfume.
I’m sat on a plush, suede couch. My eyes study the room as Luce goes off to find her first-aid kit. It’s quaint and quirky. There’s an antique quality to the furniture, but the wall art looks to be homemade and outlandish. Bold faces, odd creatures, and what looks to be drunken attempts at Bob Ross paintings.