“Excellent. I’m going green then. They have the best choice in uniform color,” I say, firmly behind a team I didn’t know existed until ten minutes ago.
“I’m going purple. They have the best-looking players,” Cindy announces to the group, undressing multiple players at once with her eyes.
I fix a smile on my face, hoping she can’t see the grimace. Cindy’s as old as my mom, and although I wish her and her downstairs parts the best, it’s disconcerting to witness any part of it.
“I’m rooting green, too,” Gavin says. “Their horses have the prettiest hair.”
Nate gives Gavin a worried look. I get it; Gavin and his “refuse to take anything seriously” attitude annoyed me a lot before this trip too.
I feel a little different about it now. Now it reminds me it’s nice to play every now and then.
Chapter Thirty
The game is a lot more...watching horse butt than I anticipated it would be. And being concerned for the horses.
“What if one of the mallets hits the horses?” I say. “I would be. So. Mad.”
I reclaimed my hand from Gavin two chukkers ago so I could watch the action through my fingers, same way I watch horror or suspense movies. Much more comforting that way.
“I think they’ve all trained well enough that we don’t need to worry about that,” Nate tries to reassure me.
“But why are the horses doing all the work? This seems unfair.” I’ve switched from the green team to team all the horses about a minute after the play started.
“Yeah. Think about the horses, Nate.” Gavin eggs me on.
“They still have to ride the horses and swing a mallet, without hitting any horses.” Nate tries to defend the sport of kings, one that started as a war game for military practice and evolved to be played while bored rich people in big hats sipped alcohol.
I sip my mint julep and comfort myself with the fact that I’m not a stereotype. I’m not bored, and I have no hat.
“Go horse, go!” I yell encouragement at a pretty brown horse that has green socks to match his rider’s shirt. Gavin seconds my horse cheer, brushing against me to do it.
I file this game away in my memory. I only have one more day until reality intrudes and I don’t know if we’ll last. I need to start hoarding the memories like a squirrel hiding nuts for winter. For when the cold comes.
Harrison wanders over to our table as part of his mingling duties. “How is everyone enjoying the game?”
“It’s a lot of fun to watch,” I say, surprised at how true it is.
Harrison gives me a curt nod, with the same uncomfortable look he gave me when he came downstairs this morning. I really want to know what’s put that look on his face. Did he pick Gavin? He has to know there’d be no hard feelings if he did. Well, not against him. Gavin and my father, on the other hand, would not fare so well.
Harrison sits down at our table and watches the game with us for a little, talking shop with Nate and about Cindy’s new house with her. And he loosens up during the conversations, making me wonder if I’d imagined the initial awkwardness.
“This has been such an amazing week. Thank you for having us out.” Gavin sucks up to Harrison a little more before the final decision.
“It’s going to be rough getting back to the real world after this.” Well, hard not only because I’m leaving a beautiful mansion, but also because I’m afraid work might interfere with what Gavin and I have. That I won’t be strong enough to juggle Gavin and the competition, and I’ll have to make a choice about one or the other. “But I’ll be redirecting all my energy into planning your show.” I send Harrison a charming smile.
“Oh, but I thought... Priya, don’t you know?” Confused is a strange look on a billionaire businessperson.
“Um, know about what?”
“Have you talked to your dad today?” Now he’s back to looking uncomfortable, eyeing the open front of the tent like he wants to escape.
“No, he called earlier but I wasn’t able to answer at the time.”
“You should call him back.” Harrison gets up. “And please remember, I appreciate your work. You’re a good auctioneer and I look forward to working with you in the future.”
I share another look with Gavin and get my phone out of my clutch. “Excuse me. I should make a call real quick.”
Everyone looks relieved to not be in the conversation anymore, and I wake up my phone screen as I walk out of the tent and away from the game. Both so no one can overhear and so I can hear the phone over the match.
