Eventually, she responds, “Okay then. I’ll check when it’s arriving and let you know.”
“Sounds good.” I smile. “I’ll look forward to it.”
Very adult. Very mature. I wonder if I should hold my hand out to shake hers, then decide it’s a step too far.
“See you in the morning, Hen.”
“See you in the morning, Stor.”
She walks out of the pub, ignoring Miles standing at the bar, and never looks back. I know because my eyes don’t leave her until she’s out of sight. Then my head drops, and I question every decision I’ve ever made.
I am an idiot. There is no doubt.
“Hen, what are you drinking?” Miles yells through the gap between the bar separating the front of the pub with the back.
I want a double scotch, but I go with Guinness instead. Picking up the final couple of chairs, I move them back to where they came from and join him by the bar. I get there right as my drink is placed down.
“Well, that was fun.”
“Was it?”
He nods. “Yes, I particularly liked the part where you were squirming in your seat about having to spend the day with Story?—”
“I want to spend the day with her.”
“I know you do. That’s why you were squirming.” His smile reaches from ear to ear. “Your plan to be ‘friends’ with the woman you’re in love with will crash faster than Max when he’s had too much sugar. If you ask me?—”
“I didn’t ask you,” I snap, ignoringthe air quotes. “She’s leaving, so being anything other than friends is pointless.”
“Maybe see what Agatha thinks,” Miles says loudly at the moment she walks past us.
“Milo, for fuck’s sake,” I grumble as she turns around, brow raised.
She peers at Miles over the top of her large, black-rimmed glasses. “Yes, Miles. What do you need? Aside from enlightening.”
I bark out a laugh. Agatha never fails to crack me up, especially when it has to do with Miles. She’s the only one I know who can legitimately wind him up, and I love how haughty she gets with him.
“Don’t you worry about me, Agatha.” He winks, though his voice is tight. “Just curious if you’re sensing anything about Hendricks.”
Her mouth purses, and she clicks her tongue. “Like I said to Story, it’s not long now.” Her eyes slide to Miles. “Nor for you, alarmingly. But you must be careful.”
Miles’s eyes widen, his shock is almost amusing. Like me, he has no idea what she’s talking about, though people rarely do, but I’m not planning to get into a conversation about it either.
I go with, “Thanks, Agatha.” To which she nods deeply and walks away. Miles scowls until she’s across the other side of the pub.
“Why do you let her get under your skin?”
He shakes his head. “I don’t think so. No one gets under my skin.”
My brow arches. “What about the girl in Aspen?”
Miles takes a long sip of his pint and swipes a hand across his mouth. “What about her?”
During our New Year’s trip to Aspen, Miles was very nearly run over by a woman galloping on a pony while yelling at Miles for being an arsehole. After he tracked her down at the stables, an argument followed. He declared that she was the most obnoxious person he’d ever met and stormed off.
Most people would have let it go, but not Miles.
In all the years I’ve known him, he’s never beenthisinterested in a woman. I already know her polo stats—handicap, where she played, and where she’ll be playing next season. It’s the only woman anyone has ever known Miles to show the slightest interest in.
