"We'll think of something without rackets," Richard offers a joke that's also a pointed remark.
"Have you checked on the polo?" Lisa suggests blatantly.
Richard blinks, thrown off for a beat.
"Not yet," he says and clears his throat. Then, noticing her pouting, he adds, "But in two weeks we'll go to the racetracks. If you'd... like to join."
Lisa practically bounces. "Oh, we'd love that!" She turns to Ben who's slouched under the shade. "Did you hear that? Richard invited us to horse racing. Time to force you into a suit."
"Never," Ben mutters dryly without moving an inch. "Next time I'm wearing it is at my sister's wedding. Or my funeral."
Lisa rolls her eyes, plucks the mist that was supposed to be mine, and spritzes herself as I push myself to my feet.
"I apologize for his behavior. He's better now. You wouldn't believe the project I started with. That's men—" She fans herself and throws Richard a coy look. "Unless, of course, we train them."
Richard chuckles, indulgent. "Sounds right. You women are far too patient with us."
My entire face pulls back like a bad filter. Really? Mr. Wife-Shouldn't-Do-That thinks that's funny?
"Marriage is about compromise, isn't it? You both give up on your dreams," Lisa giggles on her own joke.
I go still, every ounce of me itching to rip that bottle out of her hand and spray it straight down her fucking throat.
Doesn't she know Ben is way out of her league? Out of anyone's league.
Okay, calm down. Emma.
"I'm going for water. You two keep talking. I think Lisa wants to present you a business plan anyway," I bite to Richard.
Both of them flick their brows up. Richard looks at me confused, but Lisa recovers first with: "Well, actually..."
Good. Let's see how he laughs at this one.
I leave them behind and pace to the table where Ben's sprawled with arm over his eyes, legs thrown wide, chest gleaming like golden armor.
I perch beside him—close enough to see his eyes under thearm, far enough to avoid suspicion.
If he heard Lisa, he doesn't show it, but I'm furious. He might be an ass, but still deserves the world.
He pours a glass of water for me and lets his arm fall back, watching as I drink.
"You went down smooth," he says, eyes tracking the waterfall dripping down my chin. "Though not as smooth as when you drink."
I snort into the glass, not even trying to look dignified. "Screw you. Nothing tastes better than water when you're dying."
Across the court, Lisa claps. "I'm so excited about the horse racing! We might bet! Ben's weirdly lucky with chance."
"Emma always bets on a black horse." Richard chuckles like it's some kind of kink.
Ben's eyes slice to me from underneath his arm. He knows the story. So does Richard.
"That's because of Salvador," I call back to Lisa. "He was my horse. My first love. When I was ten, he got a sudden knee infection and we couldn't save him."
"Oh no..." She clutches her chest, sounding genuinely sad, surprisingly. "I hate when animals suffer."
"My mom didn't let me stay when they put him down. I should have fought harder, should have known better—"
"You were ten," Ben cut in, voice low and protective. "You don't know better at that age."
