“Oh, don’t tell me you don’t enjoy my teasing.” She pushed my hair from my face. “I know you better than that.”
There wasn’t much I didn’t enjoy about her. “You certainly seem to know what you’re doing.” She raised her eyebrows. “With Victoria, I mean,” I said.
“And I’m great in bed,” she said and winked at me.
I couldn’t argue with her there.
“Looks like it’s cousin against cousin,” Frederick called as he strode toward us carrying a mallet.
Scarlett turned in my embrace so we could face him as a team. I’d never in my life, other than with Darcy and Grandfather, been so certain someone was unquestionably on my side. I’d never thought it was even possible outside the three of us.
Eighteen
Scarlett
“Grip the shaft at the top with both hands, your right below your left,” Ryder instructed from his crouched position in front of me. “Make sure you’re clenched tight.”
His grin told me he was trying to provoke a reaction with his dirty croquet talk. I wasn’t sure if it was for my benefit or for Frederick and Victoria, who were looking on. “Like this?” I tilted my head. “Or tighter?”
Ryder stalked toward me as I stood over the croquet mallet and came behind me, smoothing his hand over my ass.
“Your arse looks fantastic,” he whispered into my ear.
Wasn’t that kind of comment wasted if no one could hear it? Or did he just like my ass? He crouched beside me, facing the little white hoop sticking out of the ground. “How many times are you going to say the word shaft to me during this match?” Ryder chuckled. I glanced up at the crowd at the side of the grass. Most of the guests were looking in our direction—as if the four of us were actors on a stage. As if they were waiting for the first punch to be thrown, blood to be spilled.
“That’s right. Now, take the shot.”
I swung the mallet and it cracked as it hit the ball.
“That’s my girl,” he said as my ball ended up exactly where he’d told me to put it. He wrapped his arm around my neck. Pulling me toward him, he placed a kiss on my head.
We watched as Victoria took her turn. I had no idea why Ryder spent any time with his cousin and his wife. There was clearly no love or affection shared.
I kept my eyes firmly on Ryder’s butt as he played. God, he had a great ass. Great legs. A great, great dick. I’d wanted to save my company so badly that I would have married him if he were the least attractive man on the East Coast. But I might not have been sleeping with him if he wasn’t so sexy it made my knees weak just being within a mile of him. And I definitely wouldn’t have been having so much fun if he wasn’t so easy to like. Easy to be with.
“Good shot, sexy,” I said as his ball went through the hoop. I still had little clue about what was going on in terms of the rules of the game. But it didn’t matter—Ryder was guiding me through it. He seemed to like teaching me step by step, and I liked him taking so much time doing it.
He winked at me as he came back to join me.
“Was it a good shot?” I asked under my breath. I was pretty sure the ball was meant to go through the hoop.
“Of course it was. I made it.”
I rolled my eyes. “Modesty isn’t your strong suit, is it?”
“Not false modesty. I’m very un-British like that.” He clamped a hand over my hip.
“Tell me one thing you don’t think you’re good at?” Surely he wasn’t 100 percent confident about everything.
He shrugged and I slid my arm around his waist. “Plenty.”
“Tell me,” I said. I wanted to find a chink in his armor, know more about this man I was sharing a bed with.
“I can make you a list of all my faults, if you like.”
“Ahhh, I see. You can’t admit when you’re wrong.”
“Maybe I don’t want to admit that I have faults to you.”
His words brought me back to reality. We weren’t a real couple. We didn’t share intimate stuff like this. This was a show. The touching. The whispering into each other’s ears. It was an act designed to convince our audience that we were in love.
I dropped my hand from his waist and tried to move away. I’d been so caught up in the sex, the fun. So happy to stop grieving the end of my marriage. I’d let my guard drop, forgotten that it was all a lie.
It was my turn, but Ryder wouldn’t let go of my waist when I tried to move forward to take it. “I’m bad with women,” he said.
It was such a ridiculous thing to say—such an obvious lie—that I yanked his hand from my waist without responding and took my shot. It went straight through the hoop and I couldn’t help but be proud of myself. Ryder hollered from behind me and I turned to find his smile as wide as Africa. Bad with women, my ass.
I narrowed my eyes as I approached him. “No lying,” I said.
“Lying?”
“Don’t give me some bullshit that you’re bad with women. I shouldn’t have asked. I was having fun and . . .” And what? Got carried away? Was trying to build intimacy? “Just forget I asked.”
As we watched Victoria take her shot, Ryder leaned down to whisper in my ear. “I have no idea what’s happening. Why are you angry?”
“It’s your turn,” I said. He looked at me as if I weren’t finished talking about this. “Your shot,” I said.
“Oh, right, yes.”
He went over, barely stopping to hit the ball and making what I was pretty sure was a shitty play before stalking right back to me.
“You didn’t answer my question. Why are you angry?”
I kept my forced smile in place feeling like a crazy person, trying not to let on what I was feeling to our audience. “I’m not mad.” I wasn’t angry at Ryder. I was irritated at myself. “I just don’t appreciate you lying to me.”
“I wasn’t lying. I am bad with women.”
“Right,” I said. What did it matter if he was lying? He was just a business deal; what did I care?
“I’m not talking about sex. Obviously, I can seduce a woman.” He swept his hand through his hair while his cousin took a ridiculously long time over his shot. I wanted him to get on with it so I could step away from this more than awkward conversation.
“I mean relationships. I’ve never spent time with a woman who wasn’t Darcy or . . . I don’t know what I’m saying, really. I just don’t have a track record for hanging out with women. But with you—”
Frederick finished his shot and before Ryder had a chance to finish his sentence, I walked back over to my red ball. Ryder thought I was fishing for compliments. But I didn’t want his platitudes. I needed to remember what this was . . . and what it wasn’t.
His hands were at my waist before I realized he was behind me. “Relax and hit a long, smooth stroke.”
“Ryder,” I said with a sigh. Couldn’t he tell I had to have just a few seconds to get myself together—switch my gears back to our deal?
“I’m not letting go. Take the shot.”
“If you don’t move, I’m not going to be able to make this shot.”