Minus the goat and the drama, this is the moment I’ve thought about for six years. Story MacIntosh here with me, again.
Pushing through her damp hair forces her head back, and against my better judgment, I find her eyes again.
“Hen . . . Hendricks, what are you doing?”
“What I’ve been waiting to do for a long time.” My mouth dips to hers.
Her eyes close, but mine stay wide open. I don’t want to miss a second of something I’ve dreamed about for so long. That I finally get to experience her lips on mine.
Except that’s the moment Churchill stirs in his bed, letting out a confused bleat.
Fuck.
And for the second time, my first kiss with Story is interrupted.
CHAPTER 15
Hendricks
Age 16
Kicking open the door to Miles’s room, I flop on his bed.
“Milo?”
A face half covered in shaving cream appears around his bathroom door. Just like our older brothers, we inherited our dad’s thick beard. It’s such a pain to shave, though, so we usually don’t bother during the holidays.
“What’s up?”
“Mum wants you.”
“Why?”
I shrug, and he disappears back inside the bathroom, and the sound of running water starts up.
“Why are you shaving?”
“Official photos for the England Under 21s are being taken before the first match.”
His beard isn’t the only thing Miles inherited from our father. He also got his skills on the polo field. Better, even, according to some who used to watch Dad play. Iremember hours spent on the sidelines every weekend during the summer when Miles would run around with his polo mallet, shouting commentary as he followed the match.
All four of us can play and have done so since we learned to ride, but Miles is obsessed. And the only one who can play like our father. He’d have been so proud to see him selected to play for the England Under 21s during this summer.
I’m proud. We all are. The only dampener is that Dad won’t be there to see it.
So I’m thankful he can’t see me grimace. “I thought it was next week.”
“Nope. Today, we’ve got to be at Foxleigh by twelve, and then the match is at three. You’re coming with Mum, Clemmie, and Al, right? Lando’s at the boring lunch thing beforehand, probably poncing about, but he’ll find you after.”
“Yeah. Course.”
Fuck, fuck, fuck, and bollocks. I’d completely forgotten. I had plans this afternoon, important ones.
“Unless you want to go to the lunch?” He walks out, patting his face dry with a towel on his way to his closet, which he tosses at me, and I promptly drop on the floor.
“Nope.” Couldn’t think of anything worse, frankly.
Hanging out with a load of stuffy Londoners who like to pretend they live in the country and being pawed at by mothers who want me to meet their daughters.No thanks. Not to mention that if Miles is playing, he won’t be at lunch, which means I won’t have a buffer. He deals with shit like that much better than I do.
