Page 31 of False God

I’m no longer distracted by Lili. I’m hell-bent on beating her.

An hour and a half later, the match ends. The navy jersey I’m wearing is sticky with sweat. White froth drips from Amarillo’s mouth, her brown coat dark with sweat and her sides heaving against the stirrups.

I dismount, unbuckling the girth and tossing the leather strap over the saddle’s seat before one of the grooms approaches to take the reins. I pat the mare’s shoulder one last time, then pull my helmet off and run a hand through my damp, flattened hair.

There’s a brief awards ceremony.

When I approach Lili afterward—holding my shiny little trophy because I’m a bit of a wanker like that—she’s talking to the guy in the green2jersey, who I scored against at the start. Hedoesn’t seem to be holding a grudge, flashing me a wide grin as I near. As soon as Lili sees me, a scowl appears.

“I’m Charles. Just wanted to say, good match.”

I hold out a hand to the guy, and his smile widens.

“Conrad Randolph. You’re one hell of a player.”

Lili’s glower remains.

“Thanks.”

Conrad glances at Lili. “Have you met Eliza?—”

“We’ve met,” I interrupt before Lili can say a word.

The naked disdain on her face makes me think she’d claim we’d never met once again if given the opportunity.

It’s entertaining—and confusing.

Our conversation at the restaurant last night wasalmostfriendly, and I was perfectly polite to her flirty friend. I can’t come up with any reason for her frostiness, unless she’s that sore of a loser.

Conrad shifts his weight between his boots, clueing in to some of the tension hovering in the hot air. “I’d never seen you play before, Elizabeth. You’re as good as Cal is.”

Lili barely reacts to the compliment. She stares straight at me as she says, “Thanks.Somepeople think I’m just a vapid heiress whose only skill is spending daddy’s money. You know,unimportant.”

Conrad frowns. “I’m sure that’s not true. You’re, uh—” He looks uncomfortable and confused, fumbling for something polite to say.

Me? I’m frozen, an icy realization trickling down my spine.

She heard.

She heard what I said to Ellis about her last summer. I’m not sure how, but she did.

Except I wasn’t talking abouther. I was talking about the women who’d been circling me earlier that afternoon. The ones who’d perked up when they heard my title and contributed littleto the conversations except blatant flirting. I had no idea I’d met Elizabeth Kensington when I went off on Ellis.

Somehow, I’m certain Lili won’t consider that much of an apology.

“Remarkable,” Conrad concludes, finally finishing his sentence.

I clear my throat. “Elizabeth, I?—”

“Have awonderfulafternoon, Conrad,” Lili says, then turns and walks away.

I no longer feel victorious.

8

An impressive spread of patriotic-colored food is on display when I walk into the dining room for breakfast on the morning of July 4.

Cinnamon rolls with white frosting. Blueberry coffee cake. Raspberry muffins. Waffles piled with strawberries and blackberries. Vanilla yogurt. Slices of watermelon. Crepes topped with whipped cream.

---