Page 40 of Last First Date
But as I'd made my way toward her, I could only watch as he pawed at her, then pulled off his tuxedo jacket and wrapped it around her. And then they disappeared into an alcove, all wrapped up in each other.
They were so obviously about to kiss. Maybe he was even now trying to talk her into coming upstairs, where no doubt he'd arranged for champagne and strawberries.
Well done me on the wooing lessons, I guess. I have only myself to blame for this entirely shitty situation. I knew that trying to help her get a date with some upper crust snob was a terrible idea from the very beginning, but I couldn’t find it in myself to say no to her.
I genuinely like Darcy.
And I kept getting the feeling that maybe she liked me too, especially when we had that insanely hot night together. For a little while, I believed that we could end up together for real. But am I really this bad at reading her? I could have sworn she was going to choose me, at least maybe after she sweated me a bit over my apology.
But there she went, canoodling with that posh douchebag Hesse Kotner. And if she enjoys being with a man like that, then I am really, deeply wrong about how she might have once felt about me.
I can see now that I never stood a chance with her. So once I apologize to her, I'll get out of her way and let her enjoy the rest of her night. Hell, the rest of her life. Whatever.
I'm guessing by the way they were snuggled up together that she'll be very happy with him. And as for Hesse Kotner, he’s damned lucky to have her.
No matter what, Darcy has always been a what-you-see-is-what-you-get type of woman. Maybe he can appreciate that about her, or maybe she brings out the best in him. Or maybe I’ve been all wrong about him because of the waves of jealousy washing over me every time I think about her with anyone other than me.
Well, she deserves better than that from me. What really matters is what she needs, what she chooses for herself. Even if that means she’s with the man that her mother wants for her, rather than the man that I want for her.
And when I think about it, neither of those things matter. Darcy gets to choose for herself what she wants, and whatever that is, I should be man enough to be happy when she’s happy. Even if that means that she isn't with me. Crap.
Not only am I the man who ambushes her date, but I'm the man who buys in to this ridiculous scheme to win her back and then instead lets her go. And there is no way I wanted the night to end like this.
Let's just be honest, I was hoping that I'd be taking her for some sort of waltz right about now, leaning forward and kissing that spot right underneath her ear that makes her go crazy. And then after I’d kissed the breath out of her, I’d beg her to forgive me and give me another chance.
Obviously, the daydream does not end there, because there’s a part later with some whipped cream and a few selectively placed ice cubes, but let’s not pour any more salt on that wound.
Right now, I owe her an apology, and then I need to get out of the way of her happiness.
And here she comes, gliding out from the hallway toward me, looking more beautiful than ever. "Darcy," I say hoarsely. No, quit it. I've got to be cool about this.
"Abernathy." Her face is still, just like mine is when I'm hiding something. But what is she hiding? She already told me that she was coming to the gala with Kotner, and God knows I watched them head down the hallway together not all that long ago. So that isn't it.
"You're breathtaking." I manage to squeeze the words out around the knot in my throat.
Because she is. The dark blue of her gown looks like the color of the sky at midnight, and all it does is set off the dark curtain of her hair and the sparkle of her eyes. That creamy expanse of skin that I spent the night kissing once is bare and glowing, and just looking at her all dressed up like this is doing something excruciating to my chest right now. I feel like I can’t breathe.
Damn it, I want to fight Hesse Kotner for her. I want to fight every man who has undoubtedly undressed her with their beady little eyes this evening. And then I want to drag her upstairs to the hotel room that I booked for the two of us, just in case this stupid plan actually worked.
But the room I have the key to doesn't have any rose petals or champagne in it. Just a great big bed that I'm more than willing to make good use of. Probably plenty of other flat surfaces too. Several walls even. And oh, the filthy things I want to do to her.
Unfortunately, Darcy is still staring at me like she’s seen a ghost. I’m probably ruining her night simply by being here and wanting to talk to her. I take a step toward her and then pause.
"Darcy, I owe you an apology for the way I acted the other day."
She scans my face for a long moment and apparently decides I'm serious. "True. You were a total fucking asshole to me." She folds her arms and stares at me, every bit as angry as she was before I worked up the nerve to speak to her.
I shove my fingers through my hair in frustration. She's certainly not making this easy, is she? "Yes, I know. I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have said any of that crap to you. It hurt my feelings that you'd agreed to come here with Kotner, but I had no business talking to you like that."
She waits and eyes me skeptically, like I’d better have a lot more words stored up to use in my apology to her. Then she reaches for my hand. "Can we go dance maybe?"
"What about Kotner?" I ask stupidly. Because why do I care about him when she's asking to dance with me right now?
"He won't mind," she answers serenely, then pulls me closer to her. I can smell her now. That beach smell of her hair. Some kind of fancy perfume that is probably her mother's. And that undercurrent of smoke that seems to always hang on her skin.
I take her into my arms carefully, because if this is the last time I get to dance with Darcy Albrecht, then I'm going to make it as good as possible for both of us.
"Did you actually block my number?" I murmur into the dark curtain of her hair.
