Page 32 of Demons

The entire thing felt like a movie. This city felt like a movie. I couldn’t believe I was getting to see it, much less experience it the way Thatcher was providing.

“I could just eat this chicken for the rest of my life and be happy,” I said as I reached for my glass of water.

“And not have your cookies?” he asked.

I glanced over at him, wishing I had the nerve to ask him about the cookies left on my porch so many times. “Okay, so maybe not just the chicken.”

He smirked at me, and my chest fluttered. Yes, I was making a mistake with him. My attraction to him was growing, and this trip was only going to make it worse. I was battling with the belief that I wasn’t his type. Perhaps he didn’t have a type. It felt as if I had his complete attention and he’d done all this when I asked. Was that what he did with all jockeys, or was it just for me? I was scared to think he might be attracted to me. The letdown would be painful if I was wrong.

Not to mention my job. Riding for Shephard Ranch was a dream I didn’t want to mess up.

“Thatcher,” a sultry voice said, and I swung my gaze from the piano player to the gorgeous blonde who had appeared at our booth.

“Cressida,” he replied.

She placed a hand on our table and leaned closer to him. “I had to hear from my brother that you were here.” She pouted, not once acknowledging my existence.

Thatcher picked up his drink. “Just got in town,” he told her, then took a drink.

She lowered her long lashes and leaned even closer to him so that her cleavage was on full display. If she wasn’t careful, a nipple was going to pop out. “Are you busy later?”

I tried not to let this be a blow to my ego because I was trying to fulfill that goal of being happy with myself. However, the fact that this woman, who had been given all the good things when it came to looks, didn’t even consider that I could be on a date with Thatcher slapped. Which I wasn’t, of course, but she didn’t know that.

She might as well have looked at me and said, I know this can’t be a date. She’s not attractive enough.

“Depends,” he drawled, and her eyes flickered with something I really didn’t want to watch.

I turned my attention back to the piano player.

“My number hasn’t changed,” she told him. “And neither has my address.”

Thatcher said nothing, and I wasn’t watching to see what was going on.

She let out a soft laugh before straightening and leaving. He hadn’t introduced me. Not only had she ignored me, but so had he. That was worse than a slap. They both should have taken a swing at me. I would have liked that better. No matter how much I told myself I loved who I was and my body in this moment, I felt homely and plain.

“Are you finished?” Thatcher asked me.

I had stopped eating, and now, I had no appetite. “Yes,” I replied.

He nodded, then moved out of the booth. I took it, we were leaving. I slid out, and he began walking toward the stairs we’d come up when we arrived. We walked in silence through the downstairs and back out onto the busy street.

We had walked here so that I could experience the city, but a black limo pulled up, and Thatcher led us over to it as the driver got out and opened the back door for us. Thatcher waved a hand for me to get inside. I slid in, and instead of getting inside, too, he closed the door.

I watched as he spoke to the driver, who nodded, and then he walked back toward the restaurant we had just left. I sank back onto the smooth leather and let out a sigh as the sting in my chest grew to something that was achingly more painful. He was getting rid of me so he could go back to the blonde. Closing my eyes, I didn’t even want to watch the city pass me by as the limo began to move.

“You’re a stupid girl, Capri,” I muttered. “Stop trying to make this something it is not.”

No matter how much I loved myself, it didn’t put me in a league with Thatcher Shephard. I had to keep that in mind and stop letting my imagination take over. Fantasy and reality were two very different things.

“Capri!” Sebastian called out, lifting his hand in a wave as I walked toward the track where Miller had taken Bloodline.

I waved back while making my way toward him. He was completely different from his brother. But just as off-limits and out of my league. He also didn’t make me feel all giddy and anxious. No need in thinking about him in any way other than a friend and horse owner.

I wasn’t sure Thatcher had come back to the suite last night. I’d gone to bed after sitting on the balcony, watching the world below for two hours. This morning, the doors to the room I believed was his were closed, but they’d been closed yesterday too. He hadn’t come out, but breakfast had arrived, and with it was a note saying that the driver would be there to pick me up in an hour. The scrambled eggs and fruit had been heavy on my stomach.

I’d spent the entire ride here scolding myself for caring about where or what Thatcher was doing. Not my business. He was a sexy man with women at his fingertips, and it wasn’t like I hadn’t known that already. One nice day with him didn’t change who he was.

“Thatch not come with you?” Sebastian asked when I reached him.

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