Page 45 of Seduced By You

Fenella clapped her hands like an overexcited child. I managed not to laugh out loud. People who did that always amused me. It was the oddest thing for an adult to do.

“Wonderful. Do help yourselves to the buffet.” She motioned to the tables weighted down with food as if we were incapable of finding the scrambled eggs on our own, then linked arms with Benedict, who hadn’t spoken a single word during the entire exchange. He gave us both a curt nod, his eyes lingering on Lee a moment too long, and in there, I saw yearning.

I knew it.

The jerk still had feelings for Lee. Well, he could fuck off. He’d had his chance, and he’d blown it. Spectacularly. Only a prick would choose politics over the love of a woman like Lee, and Benny was at the top of the pile of pricks.

“We’re meeting for the shoot at ten,” he finally said, looking at me. “Out front by the statue.”

“Oh, the one with the tiny dick, you mean?” I schooled my expression to one of innocence, but Benny caught my drift, loud and clear. Lee tried to hold back her laughter, her shoulders shaking. Benny’s ears pinked up, and his lips became a thin white slash.

“Yes,” he snapped.

I yawned, leaning back in my chair. “I’ll be there. Can’t wait.”

He gripped Fenella’s elbow and steered her away from our table. He’d only traveled a few feet when Lee laughed loud enough that he must have heard.

“You are so bad, Kingcaid.”

“He got off lightly. I almost added ‘like yours,’ but I refrained. I should get a prize for such admirable restraint.”

She laughed again. “I wish you hadn’t refrained.”

“There’s time. After all, I have to find some way to entertain myself today.”

“If you do make the comparison, please film his reaction.”

I winked at her. “You got it.”

* * *

I arrived at the meeting point at five after ten—dick move but I was beyond caring at this point—to find the assembled group dressed in tweed jackets and checked pants tucked into knee-high boots. They were all wearing flat caps, too, which did not belong on anyone under seventy-five. Clearly, I hadn’t gotten the memo about the dress code. Not that it would have mattered if I had. I wouldn’t be caught dead wearing that outfit.

“Ah, there you are, Kingcaid.” Benny made his way through the group, looking me up and down with a disparaging sneer on his face. What a child. If he thought his stupid games would bother me for a microsecond, he was more of an idiot than I’d originally thought. And I’d set the bar pretty low.

“Would you like me to loan you some appropriate clothing?”

“You mean like what you’re wearing?” I smirked. “I’m good. Besides, those pants would be half-mast on me.” I loved a bit of passive-aggressive messaging. “I don’t think the birds care either way.”

He pursed his lips. “Pheasants.”

I faked confusion. “Aren’t they birds?”

“Yes, but we call them pheasants.”

“Why?”

Benny’s face grew redder than a ripe tomato. This was too much fun.

“It’s the way it’s done. The British way. I wouldn’t expect an American to understand.”

If he thought that trashing my culture would irritate me, he’d better ready himself for disappointment. I beamed.

“If you don’t know the answer to something, it’s okay to say you don’t know.” I jerked my chin at the other men gathered around chatting. “You should ask one of your countryside buddies if they know why you’re so offended that I called them birds when that’s what they are.”

I could do this all day. The entertainment value was priceless.

“It doesn’t matter. Have you fired a shotgun before?”

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