“Three hundred yards,” Linden says. And he must have seen my look of confusion when I can’t picture it, as he adds, “It’s about nine football pitches.”
“What is it with you English and the need to explain size in football pitches?” Andrés asks, looking perplexed.
“Pretty much everyone knows what a football pitch looks like, either from watching football or playing it. It’s almost a standard unit of measurement in the UK.” I can’t help chiming in, because I can absolutely imagine the scale of it now, and it’s big.
“Well said.” Gabriel beams at me and Andrés frowns. “Don’t worry Drey, we’ll turn you into a Brit in no time.” He claps him on the shoulder and I feel I might have won their approval in some way.
While we’ve been talking, the players and horses have come back off the pitch for a break. It isn’t long before they’re filing back on, though, and I ask about the structure of the game. It’s Gabriel who explains the basics.
“Each section, or chukker, is seven-and-a-half-minutes long. There are four chukkers to a match, though on grass we might play six. After each goal we swap ends.”
I stand with them and watch some more of the match but soon begin to feel cold. My thin coat isn’t adequate, especially after the coating of snow I received. I shiver slightly.
“Are you cold?” Andrés asks and I give a slight nod.
“Then let’s go inside,” he suggests. “I could do with a hot drink as well.” Linden and Austin agree, and we walk to the marquee. As we near the entrance I slow down.
“I don’t think I should go in there,” I whisper to Andrés, hanging back.
“Why?” he asks, confusion taking over his face.
“Lots of reasons,” I say quietly. “For a start, I don’t belong here with these people, and on top of that I could be seen by other staff.”
“Well, the first part is bullshit. But hold on.” I watch as he catches up with Gabriel. They have a short discussion and return together.
“Andrés says you’re worried about coming in. I’m inviting you as a guest, okay? And I’ll be upset if you refuse my invitation. Surely you’re allowed to do what you like in your free time?”
“Yes, you’re right. Thank you.” I don’t tell him there are definitely some things I shouldn’t do with a guest in my free time, but he doesn’t need to know that and I’m already in way too deep there.
“Good, then that’s settled.” He ushers me in through the door and the warmth hits me immediately. We make our way over to where Austin and Linden have found a table overlooking the pitch, where play is still going on. I take a seat next to Andrés and return his silent smile.
Gabriel asks us our orders, and they all opt for either Irish coffee or a hot White Russian. A coffee laced with whiskey sounds perfect to help me thaw out, so I opt for an Irish coffee as well. Gabriel goes off to the bar to place our orders, and Linden and Austin fall into discussing the game. I look around trying not to feel even more out of place. Andrés leans forward, his hand briefly brushing against my thigh—a small gesture, but I’m grateful for it.
“What do you think of them?” he asks with a hopeful expression, like my opinion means something.
“They seem like great guys, not stuck up like I thought they’d be,” I whisper, and he laughs out loud.
“What’s funny?” Gabriel sinks down into the chair on the other side of Andrés. Oh damn, my stomach clenches. I should’ve kept my mouth shut.
“Simon said he thought it’d be like hockey but it looks faster.”
“He’s not wrong. On grass the horses can get up to forty miles an hour.” Gabriel grins over at me and my stomach eases until he asks his next question. “Where are you from Simon?”
“Reading,” I say, not giving any more away and hoping he doesn’t pry. He might not be so accommodating of me being in here if he knew I grew up on a council estate on the edge of town, where my mum was a school cleaner and my dad was a bus driver.
“It’s a nice town, not too far away. I’m in Oxfordshire, as are Linden and Austin.” He settles back, his attention drawn to a goal scored in the game outside, and I take a deep breath, allowing myself to relax for exactly three seconds before I see the tray of drinks being brought to our table, carried by Avery. Fuck!
He sets the tray down on the table and looks straight at me. I freeze; there’s nowhere to hide. It feels like time stretches, but it could only be the merest of seconds before his eyes slide away from me. He calls out each drink and distributes them in turn to everyone, leaving one remaining.
“Then this Irish coffee must be for you, sir.” He places my drink in front of me. He looks at me, gives me a quick wink and a slight smirk, and then straightens up. “Enjoy, gentleman,” he says and retreats. I drop my shoulders. His look told me he won’t expose me but he’s not going to let me get away without telling him everything. I put it out of my mind; that’s a problem for another time. Right now I want to try to enjoy the company I’m in, especially with Andrés
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
ANDRÉS
“Okay I have a confession,” I say when I pull into a parking space in town. I cut the engine to the rental car Austin lent me for the evening and look over at Simon.
“What is it?” A small crease forms in his brow and I fix my eyes on it for a few seconds. Damn, he’s cute as fuck, and those expressions just make him cuter.
