Total pages in book: 127
Estimated words: 129951 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 650(@200wpm)___ 520(@250wpm)___ 433(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 129951 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 650(@200wpm)___ 520(@250wpm)___ 433(@300wpm)
Battle was frowning.
“Oops. I think Hamish just got in a good shot,” Prue mumbled.
“My turn!” Chassie yelled and bellied up to her ball.
I watched as everyone watched, a good deal of my attention on Hamish, who—new to all this drama and being introduced to it rather dramatically—had a keen and concerned eye on Chassie even as he slid an arm around Tempie’s shoulders.
Yeah.
He was a good guy.
Chassie’s hit connected with my ball and sent it flying.
She twirled to me. “Oh no, Vivi! I’m sorry!”
“Honey, that’s the game,” I said as I trudged to my ball.
I had to get it back on the appropriate trajectory.
My hit failed and it went too far the other way.
“Revolting luck, darling,” Battle cooed, coming to me, curling his arm around my shoulders and tucking me into his side.
“Luck has nothing to do with it. I suck at this,” I replied.
“You’ll get the hang of it.”
Maybe I would.
But even if I never did, when the croquet set came out, I’d be there.
Because the sun shone, the flowers bloomed, spring was in the air, croquet was fun (no matter how bad I was at it), and I was happy.
I leaned my weight into Battle and whispered, “I wish Mom could be here.”
His arm tightened and he kissed the side of my head.
He didn’t need to say anything.
That was perfect.
In the end, Hamish won, and I thought Battle would pitch a low-key aristocratic fit (one could say my guy was competitive).
But he just said to Hamish, “Shall we set up the thrower and shoot?”
Hamish’s strong white teeth emerged from his bushy red beard. “Works for me.”
But me?
I knew Battle’s game.
Hamish was an outdoorsman.
And here we were, doing a bunch of shit outdoors.
He was doing his bit to help his sister win Hamish to The Downs.
So falling for my fucking guy.
And with his suggestion, people scattered.
Then we reunited in the south parkland (for your information, Tempie had a pair of shiny red, short shaft wellies that she was so cool wearing them, she made them look hot).
The thrower shot clay pigeons in the air that Battle, Tempie, Hamish, and even Chassie shot out of it (if they hit it, and just to say, Battle definitely excelled above all the others in this, though Hamish wasn’t far behind and Tempie rocked it) while Prue and I sat on a thick blanket wearing ear protectors (Battle insisted—we all had them, then again, shotguns were loud) and looked through her sketchbooks.
Admittedly, it wasn’t super close to spending time with Battle in his bed.
Still.
Lawn croquet and trap shooting in the sun with all of these lovely people was second runner-up for how I liked to spend time at The Downs.
The chicken was under foil and resting.
The potatoes were done and in their pot of hot water waiting to be whipped.
I’d just put the Yorkshire puds in the oven.
And the pavlova smeared in thick cream, lemon curd and covered with berries was in the fridge.
This meant I could dash up for a drink before I had to come back down and finish everything.
When I made it to the plum parlor, I saw everyone was there but Prue.
The minute I stepped in, Battle pushed up from his chair.
“Drink, darling?” he asked.
“Please. Can you make me a Cosmo?”
“Of course,” he murmured as I made it to him.
I got a lip brush, a gentle shove into my chair, and he headed to the drinks cabinet.
“You sure you don’t need help in the kitchen, Vivi?” Chassie asked.
“It’d help if you’d go back down with me in twenty minutes,” I answered. “I can tell you how to mash potatoes while I whip up the gravy. Then you can help me carry everything up.”
“Oo, that’d be great,” Chassie replied.
I looked from her to Tempie and Hamish, tucked close together on the sofa opposite Chassie.
“Where’s Prue?” I asked.
“Somewhere,” Tempie said unnecessarily.
I gave her the side eye.
She smiled.
“Maybe I should text her,” Chassie suggested. “She’s usually always one of the first ones down.”
“She probably doesn’t want to be pressed into kitchen drudgery,” Tempie remarked.
Hamish chuckled.
“I’m going back to London with Hamish in the morning, dears,” Tempie said to Chassie and me. “Is that all right?”
“That’s perfect,” Chassie whispered.
I just smiled and transferred my smile to Battle who was heading my way with a Cosmopolitan in a martini glass.
He didn’t make it because he stopped dead, his eyes to the door.
I looked over my shoulder.
And I nearly burst out laughing.
Prue was walking in.
With Christian.
His eyes went right to Chassie.
Chassie emitted a panicked peep.
Prue spoke.
“I asked Christian to join us for our Sunday roast!” she announced superfluously. She looked to me. “I hope there’ll be enough, Vivi.”
“Oh, there’ll be plenty,” I replied.
She clapped. “Brilliant!”
Battle stopped scowling at her, put on his host’s face and said to Christian, “Good to have you, mate. Would you like something to drink?”