“Thanks for that.”
“You need to come up with something I can tell her,” Mo said.
“Yeah, we don’t want a replay of what happened when we were kids and you told Mom that I skipped soccer practice to talk to a girl.” Alec smiled at the memory.
Harking back to their childhood provided a momentary distraction, but he knew that Mo wasn’t going to let this go that easily. While neither of them believed in a psychic twin sense, they’d always been able to perceive when the other brother was in turmoil.
“And still it’s a woman causing you problems—wanna talk about it? We have some time before we are due at the polo grounds.”
Did he want to talk about it? Hell, no. He wasn’t a touchy-feely sort of guy, and to be fair, neither was Mo.
“Not really.”
“Okay.”
“Okay? Mom would be so disappointed,” Alec said.
“No she wouldn’t. I suspect that Bianca is going to be the next one to try to figure out what’s going on with you.”
Alec groaned. Their sister would be a lot more persistent. Even though she was a year younger than the two of them, she’d always had a way of getting what she wanted from all of the Velasquez men.
“I don’t think there’s anything that can be done about this,” Alec said. “It’s Scarlet. I can’t stop thinking about her but I can’t contact her because she thinks I’m you. If I say, ‘Hey, I was pretending to be my brother,’ I don’t think she’s going to want to see me again.”
There, he’d said it. And saying it out loud made him realize how ridiculous the entire thing was. He and Mo were thirty years old, almost thirty-one. The time for switching places with his twin had long passed.
Mo clapped Alec’s shoulder.
“That is a tough one. But if I learned anything from my relationship with Hadley, it’s that if you want a woman badly enough, you go after her. Apologize for your mistakes, tell her the truth and then tell her how you feel.”
“Ugh. That’s a lot of telling.”
“Maybe you could write an app that would do it for you,” Mo said sarcastically.
“Screw you.”
But Alec felt better after talking to Mo. Maybe he would call Scarlet or even take the jet to New York and see her. It wouldn’t hurt. And then he’d have an idea if this obsession was simply because she was out of reach or if it was something else.
When they finally arrived inCole’s Hill, Siobahn decided to stay at the house but Scarlet was eager to find Mauricio right away and talk to him about the pregnancy. She had Lulu in the large bag that she carried her in when they were in a new place and Billie by her side as they drove into town for coffee.
She wasn’t sure what kind of man he was; after all they’d spent only one night together and they’d both been drinking and dancing and laughing. When she’d woken up the next morning, he’d been gone, and she didn’t blame him after she’d seen the paparazzi pictures from the night before that had ended up on TMZ.
Her life wasn’t for everyone, but she’d gotten used to it. Tara used to say they’d been born a goldfish bowl and like good little guppies they’d learned how to preen for the press. There were times when Scarlet wished for a simpler, less public life, but to be honest she loved it most days.
In this town, though, no one seemed to pay her the least bit of attention. She could get used to this. When she stopped into the coffee shop to get her coconut milk latte, everyone left her alone.
“Do you know the Velasquez family?” Scarlet causally asked the barista after ordering.
“Everyone knows them. They’re legends in Cole’s Hill. I think they’ll all be out at the new polo grounds today. I don’t follow the sport but there’s a former professional scheduled to play today... Dee, do you remember his name?” the barista asked the woman at the espresso machine.
“Bartolome Figueras. He’s also a model. Oh, my, he’s good-looking,” Dee said.
“He is,” Scarlet agreed. She had met him and his sister at a polo match in Bridgehampton earlier in the summer. She might even have his number. “I love polo. Do you think thatwe could attend the match?” Scarlet said, turning to Billie, who smiled.
“I’m sure you could. They’ve been doing monthly matches to raise money for a housing charity that Mauricio Velasquez runs,” the barista said. She pushed a button on her register and some receipt paper came out. She ripped it off and jotted down a website.
“I think you can get all of the information from here,” she said, handing the paper to Scarlet. “Have fun.”
When they had their orders, Scarlet and Billie walked out of the coffee shop toward the parking lot.