The Pretend Girlfriend (A Billionaire Love Story #1)(50)

And she meant it. The real question, the million dollar question, was whether he liked her, too.





Chapter 18


After that call, Gwen surprised herself by banging out an introductory paragraph and the first few sentences of her initial argument. She ran out of steam around lunch, stood up, and performed a well-deserved stretch. Her back and shoulders ached from sitting in the opposite-of-ergonomic office chair at her desk.

She'd just pulled out the can opener and a can of chicken noodle soup when her cell rang. This time it was Aiden's name listed on the caller ID.

She couldn't help feeling the thrill of excitement. Admitting her feelings out loud earlier to her mother had a recharging effect on her, it seemed. Once more, he was the handsome mystery man just waiting to be figured out. She'd found the chink in his armor once already, and she wanted another crack at it.

"Hey!" she said, smiling.

"Do you like racing?" He replied.

"I once ran a half marathon sophomore year of high school," Gwen said. She could practically see his frown. She knew that wasn't the sort of answer he was looking for, but she was feeling playful.

"Maybe I should re-phrase. Do you enjoy watching horse racing?"

"Well... all that running does get my throat a little dry," Gwen said, proud of spinning is words into a pun.

"Also not what I meant," Aiden said. The exasperation in his voice tickled her. And was it just her imagination, or did she hear a hint of some amusement from his end of the line, too? Perhaps this wasn't such a bad day, after all.


"Yeah, yeah. I don't know, okay? I've never actually been. I thought Sea Biscuit was a pretty good movie. Why? Did you buy a horse or something?"

Wasn't that something rich people did, buy horses and yachts and houses?

"No, but I am hosting an event, and I'd like you to attend it with me."

Well that was new. He wasn't demanding, wasn't telling her to just be ready in fifteen minutes for the car. He wanted her to. That, to her, meant that she could decline.

Not that she intended to. Though he didn't need to know that. Not yet, at least. She hopped up onto the counter, her legs dangling until she locked her ankles together.

"Actually, I do have this important essay I need to write..." she said.

"Oh, well then, I won't keep you. Bye," Aiden said.

Gwen hopped down off the counter, raising her hand as though he could somehow see it. "Wait!"

Aiden chuckled. She'd been expecting to get one over on him there, but he'd seen right through her and reversed it. "Changing your mind?" He asked.

"I really do have a paper I need to write, you know. But yeah, I'll come. Just so long as there's food, anyway." That can of chicken noodle soup looked less appetizing by the minute.

"Why is it you always seem hungry when I try to get a hold of you?"

Gwen was really enjoying this. It felt good to flirt with him. Natural, even. She could tell they had a connection. Chemistry. If only Aiden would let it grow into something more.

"I don't know. Maybe you don't pay me enough," Gwen said. Her heart lurched as soon as she realized what it was she'd said.

The flirty mood disappeared. She could feel it dropping from his end of the line.

"Apparently not," he replied, his tone reserved once more, "And yes, there will be food. I'll have the car come by your place in an hour. Please wear something nice. It's not black tie, but no jeans or anything like that. Okay?"

Gwen rubbed at her eyes with thumb and forefinger. Why did I have to say that? Stupid, stupid! "Yes, your majesty," she replied.

Aiden hung up.

***

It was a nice day to be outside. The afternoon had really warmed up, and not a single cloud obscured the apparently limitless depth of the blue sky. Gwen leaned against the banister that ringed the upper level of the main building as she looked down at the track.

It was just outside the city, nestled off the highway within what looked like some sort of artisanal farms perfectly preserved to look as they'd appeared a hundred years or so ago.

The sweetness of the countryside lingered in the air, like the notes of a fine wine. And, away from the constant buzz of the city, Gwen could actually make out the sounds of that breeze rustling through the fields.

The whole place smelled earthy, the dirt a rich scent. It also, of course, smelled vaguely of what Gwen assumed to be horse. She'd never really been a horse girl. She knew that many women, and especially young girls, were perceived to just love horses for whatever reason.

From this vantage point, she could see back behind to gate to where the horses waited. They all had colorful numbers hanging down off their sides (flanks?) and ranged in color from mostly white, to a sandy dun, to the shiny black that she associated with expensive luxury cars.

There was a certain allure to the beasts. They looked large and graceful, especially with the tiny jockeys standing around them.

There had been relatively little fanfare at their arrival. Their limo dropped them off in front of this building and then circled around to go wherever it was limos went when their owners weren't riding inside them. Gwen was fine without the notoriety. She'd quickly grown tired of the flashing cameras and microphones.

This was a private event, apparently. Organized by Aiden and held at a track owned by one of his friends. It was open to the public during most of the season, but today was the domain of the wealthy.