Page 63 of Puck and Prejudice

“Shit!” I run to the grill and attempt damage control. Unfortunately, some of the burgers are charred beyond saving.

“What’s that burning smell?” Chad asks as he joins the party by the pool.

“Darcy scorched the burgers,” Duncan replies.

My ears are burning. Never in my life have I fucked up a barbeque before. I let myself get distracted by Izzie Bennet, and this is the consequence. I can’t allow a repeat, especially not with so much on the line.

“No way!” Chad comes closer. “Do I need to assist?”

“I just burned a couple. No big deal. You can go back to entertaining your guests.” I push him away.

“Okay,” he replies with a grin. I’ll never hear the end of this.

I put new patties on the grill, then add the hot dogs for the kids, all the while trying to forget about Izzie Bennet in her wet dress. I’ve barely managed to push her to the back of my mind when she returns to the pool wearing a one-piece swimsuit and a sarong. I freeze and stare at her like a creep. Even though she’s mostly covered, the swimsuit has a deep cut down the front, and she has a nice rack.

Fuck me.

Roger and Amelia, Louisa’s kids, come running. “Are the hot dogs ready, Uncle Jackson? We’re hungry,” Roger says.

“They’ll be ready in few minutes. Why don’t you go dry off?”

“Okay,” they reply in unison.

I sense someone looking at me. It’s Izzie. Then a man I haven’t met before stops next to her and draws her attention. In an instant, I’m annoyed. I don’t know who he is, but it’s clear that he’s interested in her. Quickly, I look away lest I burn the burgers again.

First Wickham, now this man. I could reason that I didn’t want Wickham near Izzie because he’s a bastard. But I can’t use the same excuse with this guy I don’t know. I’m fucking jealous. I see only one way out of this, but it will have to wait. Tomorrow is the biggest game of my life, and that’s all I should be thinking about. Not how much I want to silence Izzie’s sharp tongue with mine.

* * *

IZZIE

What’s up with Jackson today? It’s like he has two personalities—a jackass and a gentleman. Today, the second one is on display. I wonder if it’s real, or if he’s putting on a show in front of Chad and his parents. I’d rather he have a split personality than be a fake. Either way, I’m not happy with the way I’m reacting to his attention, first the smile from across the room, then the offer of a towel and a new drink.

Now, we’re seated at a long table outside, eating a late lunch—more like early dinner—and he’s across from me. Why is he always sitting across from me? Does he do it on purpose, or is that fate pushing us together? Unfortunately, Colombo is next to me, and he’s trying to monopolize my time.

“You have to visit my hacienda in Seville, Izzie,” Colombo drawls in a thick Spanish accent. It’s more distinct now, probably because he’s been drinking. “My Lusitanos are beauties. You know… some of my stallions have taken part in the bullfights. They’re magnificent animals.”

I wrinkle my nose. Bullfights are one part of my Spanish heritage that I wish to forget. I’m not into them at all. I’ll never say that out loud in front of my mother, naturally. I don’t want to hurt her feelings.

“Oh, that’s right. You still have that barbaric practice,” Caroline pipes up. She’s sitting next to Jackson, which is no surprise. She’s doing everything she can to get his attention.

My mother sits stiffly in her chair. God, I can’t believe she heard Caroline’s comment from all the way down the table. “It’s a beautiful tradition.”

“What’s beautiful about torturing the poor animals in front of a crowd before ultimately killing them?”

Mom’s nostrils flare. Oh boy. I need to say something before she blows.

“You’re enjoying your steak, aren’t you, Carol?” Jackson beats me to it.

“Uh… yeah, but that’s different. The cow wasn’t tortured before they killed it.”

“How do you know?” He arches a brow.

Caroline’s face turns beat red, and my jaw hangs loose. I can’t imagine Jackson is in favor of bullfights. I haven’t met a single person outside of Spain who doesn’t think it’s an awful tradition.

“You enjoy bullfights, then, Jackson?” Colombo chimes in.

He looks at him briefly, then his gaze collides with mine. “I didn’t say that.”

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