Page 38 of The Faking Game
“Are you really my friend?” I ask Alex. “Because right now I’m starting to wonder.”
He grins, a deep smile in his auburn stubble. “A real friend wants you to suffer a little.”
A whistle sounds out, and we all look at where the game is about to begin. I nod. “You should go change ponies.”
“I know. You bet on me?”
“Of course.”
He grins again and tips his helmeted head to Nora. “My lady. I shall win in your honor.”
She laughs a little. “I’ll have a rose ready for you.”
“It will be my honor.” He winks at her and then turns his horse, setting off in a canter across the field. Flirting with her is easy for him, I’m sure, because he’s not actually considering crossing that boundary. It’s harmless fun.
He’s never thought about what her lips might taste like or how her body felt when he lifted her down off the ledge.
Not like me.
We make it a few steps back on the grass when Nora stumbles beside me. Her left leg folds, and I reach out on instinct. Catch her with an arm around her waist.
“Merde,” she breathes. “My heel just snapped.”
I look down at where the bottom of her dress kisses her ankles. Sure enough, one of the thin heels on her strappy shoe has broken off. It dangles, half loose, from the sole of her shoe.
She’s balancing on one foot, her hand gripping my arm.
“This is so embarrassing,” she mutters. “Good thing I got them for free after a shoot.”
“Can you walk?”
She puts her foot down gently, balancing on the balls of her feet. “Yes. But it will look like I’ve had way too much champagne. I’ll take them off and go barefoot, I guess.”
I glance around, noticing the not-so-subtle looksfrom people around us. We’ve been here long enough. We’ve been seen and we have seen in return.
“We can call it a day,” I tell her. “I’ll carry you to the car.”
“Carry me?” Her voice comes out thin. “West, you don’t have to do that.”
“I know.” Without waiting for her response, I sweep her up into my arms. One locked beneath her knees and the other behind her back. “Hold on to me.”
She gasps and grabs a hold of my shoulder. “West,” she protests, but her hand is tight around the back of my neck. Her feet dangle to one side, the broken heel clearly visible. She’s warm, and soft, and a comfortable weight in my arms.
I start walking toward the exit.
She glances over my shoulder. “Everyone’s staring.”
“Good,” I tell her.
“For someone who hates spectacles, you definitely turned this into one.”
My lips curve. “Yes. But I told you, trouble. I’m fine if it’s on my terms.”
CHAPTER13
NORA
For our first practice date, West texts me to wait on the steps to Fairhaven at eight.I’ll pick you up.
