Page 20 of The Wingman

“Green plaid,” she says quietly.

The man in the green plaid shirt leans in while his friend talks. His eyes move to Darcy and then back to his friend. I scan over the group of them, scrutinizing for any red flags, but they look like a regular group of guys.

Darcy’s target glances at her again and smiles, pretending to listen to his friend while clocking Darcy’s every move.

I catch the bartender’s attention, and she comes over. I can’t believe I’m about to do this.

“Can we get a round of drinks for that group at the end ofthe bar, please?” Darcy watches with curiosity, and I give her a flat smile. “Just watch.”

“Owens.” Storm Hat nods at me with interest. “Who do you like playing with the best?”

Not sixty seconds after we sent the drinks over, the guys dropped by to thank us and tell me what huge fans they were. I’m a great wingman, so I introduced Darcy as my roommate and invited them to have a drink with us at the bar.

“Volkov, no question.” I’m only half listening, straining to hear Darcy and Green Plaid’s conversation.

My knee bounces with restless energy. Watching Darcy talk to another man while he stares at her with stars in his eyes feels so fucking wrong. Every muscle in my body is tense, and my chest is tight with a weird, protective urge to grab her hand and pull her out of here.

Confidence-wise, she seems to be doing okay. She’s biting her lip a lot the way she does when she’s nervous, but I don’t get the stranger danger vibe from her.

“…don’t know if you have plans for the rest of the night,” Green Plaid says to Darcy, wearing a hopeful expression, “but we were going back to my place?—”

“We can’t,” I blurt out, standing. “We have to go.”

Darcy gives me a strange smile, and I scramble for an explanation so I don’t look like her overbearing bodyguard. If I were wing-manning anyone else, Volkov or one of the other guys on the team, I’d be happy to tag along and keep the party going.

I don’t like the idea of Darcy in this guy’s apartment, though. Anything that gets us closer to his bedroom, which is what he’s trying to do—because anyone with eyes would want Darcy in their bed—makes me pissed off andnauseous.

“We’ve got that thing tomorrow morning.” I lift my brows at her before catching the bartender’s eye for the bill. “With Streicher and Pippa and Daisy. So we should get going.”

I’m bullshitting through my teeth. Sometimes, Pippa and Hazel organize hikes on the North Shore of Vancouver with Pippa and Streicher’s dog, and I tag along, but there’s nothing going on tomorrow, and Darcy knows that.

“Right.” She smiles, and the mischievous sparkle in her eye feels private, just for us. Our little secret. “The hike.”

“Streicher?” Green Plaid asks. “Like Jamie Streicher?”

Darcy smiles and nods at him. “Yep.”

He’s making moon eyes at her. “I love hikes.”

I fight an eye roll in response to him shamelessly trying to get an invite. “That’s great.”

The bartender swings by with our bill, and I pay, gently pushing Darcy’s hand aside when she tries to hand over her card. Sparks zing up my arm and I pull my hand back.

“Lots of great hikes in Vancouver,” I add.

I step between them to help Darcy into her coat while the guy backs up to give us space. I’m being a territorial asshole, and the exact opposite of a wingman, but I can’t seem to stop myself.

My expression is tight but friendly as I put a hand to Darcy’s lower back, forgetting my rule about not touching her. “Nice chatting with you, guys. Have a great night.”

“Wait.” Green Plaid’s eyes flare with surprise at Darcy. “Can I, uh—” He laughs lightly, pulling his phone out. “Can I get your number?”

She looks at me, her gaze full of uncertainty.

“She lost her phone,” I lie, hauling her out of there without looking back. “Maybe next time.”

A moment later, we’re outside in the cold night air, and I can breathe again.

CHAPTER 10

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