“Are you one of those chaps?” I ask curiously.
“Guilty as charged. I followed in my father’s footsteps because he wanted me to take over his firm.” He sighs. “Given the choice, I would’ve preferred to do something with photography.”
“Oh, what type of photography? Portraits? Landscape? Animals?”
“Landscapes, specifically up toward Scotland. The moors and dales aremy favorite places to hike through and capture during the early morning.”
That sounds so romantic. There’s a lightness in my chest. I can picture the golden rays of the sun casting a soft glow on a field of lavenders. When Eric shares a part of his authentic self with me, I find him charming. But in my head, a red-flag alert is still blaring. How can a man be so rude to the waitstaff and yet so sweet to me? I’m so confused. Just what type of a person is he?
We chat a little more about how he got into photography and how he’s recently started to teach himself how to edit and retouch images with professional software. By now, we’ve finished our appetizers and moved on to our entrees.
“What about you, Alice? Tell me a little more about what you like to do in your spare time when you aren’t in the public eye,” Eric says, popping a chip into his mouth.
“If you were to ask Eddie, he’d tell you I’m predictably boring. I spend most of my free time reading, watching SearchTube videos to get ideas for DIY projects, or riding my horses.”
“None of those are boring, especially when it concerns horses. I assume you have at least one?”
“I have two. They’re both Irish Sport Horses. What about you? Do you keep any horses?”
“I do, actually. He lives at my parents’ home in Kent. I have a ten-year-old Norfolk Trotter, but he acts like a spoiled two-year-old.”
We share a laugh and fall into an easy conversation about horses, becoming so engrossed in our discussion that three hours pass by in a flash.
Eric glances at his watch. “Whoa, we’d better get going if we’re going to have time to squeeze in a ride! It’s nearly three.”
“Already?” I blink a few times in shock.
“Uh-huh.” He runs a hand through his hair. He’s rolled up his shirtsleeves, exposing a pair of tanned forearms. It’s a good look on him. I’ll have to add that to the list of things I find attractive in a guy—a man who rolls up his sleeves. “Amanda arranged for us to take a ride around the Rotten Row at Hyde Park. Is that something you’re still interested in? Or would you rather we stay here and keep chatting?”
I chew on my lip. As tempted as I am to stay here, I’ve had enough sitting for one day. My back is a little tight, but a little riding is something I will never say no to. Unless my body is screaming at me to rest. “Riding would be brilliant.”
“That’s what I’d hoped you say.” Eric signals to our server for the check. “Why don’t I take care of this, and you can get a head start on changing. There’s supposed to be some riding clothing waiting for you with the club’s concierge.”
Amanda has really thought of everything. I’ll have to thank her the next time I see her. I thank Eric for lunch and practically skip out the door. This date may have started off a little rough, but it’s gone better than I could have hoped. And now we’re going riding. I can’t imagine a better way to spend the afternoon.
Maybe Iwas wrong about Eric earlier. He’s been easy to get along with. Nothing is forced. There are way more positive takeaways so far than negatives. At this rate, he’s well on his way to earning a second date with me, which I can’t believe I’m even thinking about.
When I push the door open, Art jumps to his feet from a chair. A book drops from his hands. “Ma’am.”
Reaching down to pick it up, I glance at the title. “The Layman’s Guide to All Things Engineering. Doing a bit of light reading?” I joke.
“Yes.” He can’t grab the book from my hands fast enough, shoving it under his arm as if he’s hiding it.
Angela appears in the hallway with two coffees in hand. “Your Highness. Are you finished with your luncheon?” She offers a coffee to Art.
“Yes, we are. We’re planning to go for a ride next.”
Angela nods to Art. “This one is on you, mate. Horses and I don’t mix unless they can fly.”
It doesn’t dawn on me until then that unlike Bruce, I doubt either of my new agents has any riding experience.
“Is it possible to ring Bruce and ask him to meet us?” My old agent has increased the amount of time he’s spent away from me in favor of sending Angela and Art out in the field, but he’s still technically in charge for a little while longer.
“Not needed. I can ride.”
I turn my attention toward Art. He’s standing stiffly, as if it’s thelast thing on Earth he wants to do. He’s opening and closing his left hand. I wonder if that’s one of his nervous habits.
“Can you canter?”
