Page 86 of Late to Love

“I think Darcy needs a kitten, don’t you?”

Reid pretends to think. “I bet that Agatha does, even if Darcy doesn’t.”

Matty’s eyes light up. “Excellent call.” He starts to leave, waving as he goes. “See you later, man.”

Reid points two fingers at his eyes and then back to me in a classicI’m watching youmove as he starts to back away. “Don’t fuck this up, man.”

I raise my hands. “Working on it.”

“You better be. She’s perfect for you.”

I huff a laugh. “Believe me, I’m well aware.”

The rest of the day is interminable. But we finally close, and I head upstairs for a shower. I’ve got a woman to apologize to.

* * *

I findher exactly where I figured I would, back in Agatha’s garage that has steadily morphed into a full-on workshop over the months I’ve seen it. Gone are the lawn care tools and potting soil, replaced by tools I can’t name, and stacks of wood propped off the ground. Noah Kahan blares as usual from a speaker on the workbench, and Darcy bends over the lathe, her back to me, clad in her sexy-as-hell overalls. Sawdust flies as she holds what looks to be a table leg in place, the sound of the lathe barely drowned out by the music. I can picture her face, the concentration in her ice-blue eyes behind the plastic safety glasses, the way her bottom lip is sucked into her mouth, held in place by her teeth but slowly being released as she finishes with the task at hand.

I love her.

I love her so damn much.

She straightens, finishing the area and turning the lathe off, the act of which makes the music seem that much louder. With an exhale, she pulls the safety glasses off and sets them to the side, then releases the leg from the lathe and holds it up to inspect it. I can’t see if she’s pleased with the work or not.

“It’s beautiful,” I say.

She startles and jerks her head my way, her widened eyes relaxing when she realizes it’s me. “Anthony.”

I offer a smile. “Hi.”

She steps around to the speaker and lowers the volume, and when she turns back to me, her cheeks are flushed. “I wasn’t sure you’d want to speak to me again after what I said yesterday.”

I gape at her. “Seriously? Woman,I’mthe one who should say that. After I behaved the way I did—said the things I said—shit, Darcy. I’m so sorry.”

Her lips, free of her usual red lipstick but no less devastating, tilt up. “Ox was right.”

Furrowing my brow, I ask, “What do you mean?”

She shrugs. “I saw him this morning after I ran out of yoga, and he basically told me you’d come to your senses.”

I straighten from where I’ve been leaning against the side of the garage. “He’s correct. Amazing what having a literal bucket of ice water dumped on a man will do to his perspective.”

“It wasn’t a bucket,” she protests with a laugh, her eyes bright and playful.

“Sure felt like it.” I move toward her. “And it was cold as fuck.”

“I’m not apologizing for it.” She juts her chin up.

“Nor would I ever dare ask you to,” I murmur, wrapping my hand around her waist and pulling her to me.

She doesn’t relent, keeping her body stiff in my grasp. “You should know I won’t hesitate to do it again, either.”

I huff a laugh. “I would expect nothing less.” Tilting my head down to hers, I bring our mouths close. “I’m sorry. Truly. I’m going to do better.”

“Good.”

“I love you.”

---