“Harry, is something wrong?” I asked tentatively.
He turned the swivel seat of the barstool I sat on, so I was between his legs. He stared at me for so long, I thought he was finally going to confess whatever was bothering him.
He lowered his head and whispered, “I won’t give you up. I—” He closed his eyes. When they opened again, he said, “I don’t want to anger my dad. I don’t want to disappoint you. I just don’t want to lose you.” A blush burst on Harry’s cheeks, and lifting his head he rasped, “I’m falling for you, Faith. Do you know that? I’m falling so bloody hard for you.”
Sunbeams burst inside me. “I’m falling for you too,” I said, as a butterfly decided to swoop inside my heart and add a flutter to its already stupidly fast beat.
“Truly?”
“Truly.”
Harry sighed a breath of relief, like my response had given him a much-needed battle shield when he’d thought all hope was lost in his inner war. Who and what he was fighting, I wasn’t sure.
“I’m speaking to my dad today,” he said, and I felt the conviction of those words fill the air around us.
“Get ’em cowboy,” I said, play-punching his arm but feeling nervous for the first time in a long time.
Harry laughed, and I could breathe easy again when I saw the crinkles around his eyes. The ones that only appeared when he dropped his worries and frosty persona and let me inside, not all the way, but we were getting close. Those were my crinkles. I’d slapped a copyright on those bad boys and declared them my property.
“Let me meet with him today, and I’ll see you tonight. Okay?”
I saluted again. “Yes, sir!”
“Faith, I beg of you. Never join the army. I shudder to think what would happen to the fate of the nation if they resolved things as you just did.” Harry kissed me and headed to his room to shower and change.
“There’d be less wars and more love!” I shouted to his retreating back.
Harry stuck his head around the doorway. “And an ungodly amount of STDs and cases of lockjaw.”
I picked up an apple from the fruit bowl in front of me and threw it at the door, hearing Harry chuckle as it missed him completely. I drank my coffee and wondered what his father wanted. Something in my gut told me whatever it was, it wasn’t good.
But Harry was falling for me. Me. And I was most certainly falling for him. I’d given him head, and he’d literally banged me against the wall. We were fine. Everything was going to be fine.
I was sure of it.
“I feel like a true lady in this,” I said to Sage, showing him the hat that sat regally on my head. “I’ve never had an excuse to wear it. Now I have! All thanks to your colleague getting salmonella and your boss going to marriage mediation.” I held up my hand to the blazing summer sun above us. “Bless the gods!”
The minute I’d walked into my apartment that morning, Sage had run at me, telling me to get dressed and gather the troops (Amelia and Novah). He had scored box seats at the Belmont Park Race Track, and we were going to the races. I’d never been to see horse racing once in my life, but it had always looked like fun. And since my all-day sex plans with Harry had been thwarted by King, I was game as hell.
“I don’t know why, but in these white gloves I walk with the confidence of Miss Universe.” Amelia held out her hands and started to wave like the queen. “I’m thinking about incorporating these into my everyday life. I’m sure the other archeologists won’t mind me digging up dirt in such exquisite lace.”
“Never, darling,” Sage said, linking our arms. Novah linked mine on the other side. “Now giddy up, we have a private box with our names on it.”
I opened my mouth for the inevitable joke, but Sage covered my mouth. “Today we act like a lady, Faith. Decorum in the box at all times.”
I rolled my eyes at him, and we passed through the gates and to the main stand. Crowds of people stood waiting for the race to begin. In the distance the racing stalls opened, and people came alive, waving their bets in their hands and screaming to their horses to “go” or “run faster” as the thoroughbreds galloped toward the finish line.
“This way.” Sage led us into the foyer of the stand, and I groaned as the air conditioning caressed my face. New York summers were one humid, unrelenting bitch.
A host led us to the box owned by Sage’s law firm. We were handed glasses of champagne and shown to our seats. The boxes were lined up side by side, the partitions low enough to see the neighboring party but high enough for privacy.