I turn to Story and grimace. “Sorry, he’ll only go on and onand onabout it. Why don’t you go to the bar and order? I won’t be long. I’ll have whatever you’re having. Put them on my tab.”
“I’m drinking a banana daiquiri with a little straw.” She smiles evilly.
“Delicious. One of my five a day,” I shout behind me as Max pulls me away.
With Max tugging me along, it takes five minutes to find my mother, and another ten to head back to thepath on the way to the drinks tent. I don’t know why I didn’t suggest going to the box, away from the crowds, where Story and I could have a perfectlyfriendlycatch-up, but I wanted us to spend time together without the gawking eyes of my family.
A week ago, we—I—assembled the booth, and now I’m spending another afternoon in her company. I’m seriously wondering how I can turn Saturdays with Story into a “thing” when I stop dead and focus on two people a couple of meters ahead of me.
There’s no way I’m looking at what I think I’m looking at.
They’re so deep in conversation with barely an inch between them that they don’t even notice me approaching until I’m two feet away and yelling in their ears.
“What the hell is going on?”
Clementine gasps, lets go of Santiago Torres, and jumps back. Though, as she’s already against the wall, she doesn’t get too far.
“Clem, what the fuck are you doing?” I don’t wait for a response. Instead, I pull her out of the way, shielding her with my body as much as I possibly can. “You know who this is?”
Not waiting for a response, I turn to the other member of this cozy little party. “Torres, I don’t know what you’re playing at, but stay the hell away from my sister.”
I’m so incensed that it doesn’t occur to me that Clementine didn’t seem to be resisting him. Quite the opposite.
“Burlington,” he drawls, in his distinct, thick American accent, “I have no beef with you, but if youtouch Clementine again, you and me are gonna have a problem.”
My eyes widen. I’m being glared at by a guy who looks like I’ve just slept with his mother and embezzled his life savings, and I don’t think I’ve ever been so confused in my entire life.
“Beef? What are you, the fucking Mafia?” I do my best to glare back, but truthfully, I’m no match. This guy nails the Goodfellas vibes. “Get the fuck out of here. You too, Clementine. You’re lucky it was me who walked into whatever the fuck this is . . .”
From behind me, where I’m still trying to shield her, my sister yells loud enough that my ears ring, “Stay out of my life, Hendricks. I didn’t ask for your opinion.”
“Didn’t ask my—have you gone insane?” I stare into her bright blue eyes. “Are you high?”
She spins around, freeing herself. “Who knows, Hen? Maybe I am.” And as I watch my sister storm away, she flips me off.
I might have no idea what’s going on, but I know I don’t like the way Torres’s gaze follows Clementine’s departure. Don’t like it one bit. When they come back to mine, my fists ball. Miles is right. He’s dangerous.
“I mean it, Torres. You have no business being here. Stay the hell away from Clementine and stay the hell away from Miles. In fact, while we’re at it, stay the hell away from my entire family. And Foxleigh.”
He nods, contrite, almost as his hands rub together. Hands covered in tattoos. “One thing you’ll learn about me, Burlington, is that I don’t make promises I can’t keep.”
It’s taking all my patience to remain calm. “Is that so? Well, neither do I.” I smile, one that doesn’t evencome close to reaching my eyes. “After what you did to Miles, Ipromisethat if I see you again, I will return the favor.”
I wait. And wait some more until Santiago Torres eventually does the sensible thing and decides to walk away. The moment he’s out of sight, I sprint off. Clementine’s vanished, but I track down two of the Foxleigh Park security and instruct them to escort Torres off the premises.
I’m still reeling when I return to the bar, my brain trying to reason with what IknowI saw with what I’m hoping Ididn’tsee, but I can’t shake the feeling I’ve just witnessed infidelity. Not a one-night stand either, the twenty-five years with a secret lover type.
“Hendricks. Hen?—”
I follow the sound of Story’s voice, her hand waving in the air until she comes into view, and find her laughing along with the guy standing next to her.
Fuck my life.
“Great match today, Hendricks.”
“Thanks, Pelling. Appreciate you coming to support.”
Story holds a beer out. “They were all out of banana daiquiris.”
