Page 31 of Demons

She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth, and I could see the indecision on her face. It was a simple question. Was she hungry or not? Why the fuck did women make everything complicated?

“I probably shouldn’t eat. I had the cookies, and I don’t normally eat sweets or fats on race weeks.”

The jockey life. I didn’t much care for the fact that she was hungry, but depriving herself. One fucking meal wasn’t going to make her gain weight before Saturday. I respected her dedication, but she could have food when she needed it.

“I’ll order lean meat, salad, and vegetables,” I told her.

“Order?” she asked.

I smirked. “Room service.”

She glanced back toward the balcony.

What’s on your mind now, little doll? Just say it.

“Do we, uh”—she stopped and scrunched her nose—“have time to maybe go out there?”

“The balcony?” I asked.

She shook her head and gave me a shy smile. “No, the city. I just want to see if it feels like it looks.”

I had no idea what the fuck that meant, but I let it slide. I would need to make a call to have a meal prepared for her that she would be comfortable with and to have preferred seating handled at my favorite restaurant. I set my drink down.

“If that’s what you’d like to do.”

“But we have time?” she asked.

“We have the rest of the day.”

I could see the question in her expression.

“When do we leave for the track?”

I shook my head. “Not going today.”

Yeah, little doll, change of plans because I like watching you smile.

“Really?”

The way her voice hitched up a notch and her gray eyes danced with pure fucking joy made me want to take her more places. I wouldn’t. That would lead to problems. More than she could comprehend. Things were unfortunate enough, and they had been for a while.

“I’ll show you your room,” I told her.

I wanted her to have the master bedroom, but I had to draw a line for myself. She was the jockey. I wouldn’t give another jockey the master. Her head needed to stay clear on what we were. My issues would stay mine alone.

I pointed to the door to the room farthest from mine. “That’s yours. Luggage will arrive soon, and you can get a shower if you’d like. But you’ll need to change into something a little nicer than jeans. A sundress, if you have one, would work.”

There was a dress code at the restaurant we were going to, but I also didn’t want her being hot outside. Her comfort was one of those odd things I couldn’t quite shake. I cared about little. Until her, that was. She made me care about shit that I’d never cared about before. If I could stop it, I would, but I’d just come to accept it.

• Fourteen •

Fantasy and reality were two very different things.

Capri

The dark gem tones of the swanky restaurant that Thatcher had brought me to set the mood for the jazz pianist in the center of the two stories of tables, which had a perfect view of the ground floor and the second, where we sat. The railing was low enough so that those seated at the circular booths overlooking the ground floor could see it all. The floor was full of tables while up here, booths were farther apart and curved so that you didn’t see the guests at other booths. Your main focus was the piano player, who sat on the center stage.

I took another bite of the grilled chicken he’d ordered. It, along with the array of grilled vegetables, was delicious.

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