Page 43 of A Searing Acquaintance
Rich settled onto a barstool at the kitchen island. “Talk to me. It’s not just the dog, is it?”
“No, I’m fine…it was her time.” Darcy closed his eyes and leaned on the counter. He was exhausted and, suddenly, the weight of the past two weeks hit him, and he felt his eyes misting.No. Not now.He turned and wiped his hands on a towel and collected himself.
Rich cleared his throat. “Well…?”
Darcy flinched, mishearing his cousin.No…he said “well,”not “Will.” No one had called him Will since his mother died. But he yearned for that comfort and felt himself crumbling.
“I, um, I made the mistake of asking out Elizabeth Bennet,” he said softly, “only to discover that she can’t stand me.”There’s the understatement of the century.
“Why?” Rich said, undisguised surprise in his voice.
“Why did I ask her out or why does she hate me?”
“Bad news first. Why does she hate you?”
He took a deep breath. “It’s a long list. I’m a snob who sleeps with anything that moves and thinks everyone is beneath me. I’m judgmental and stupidly wrong for thinking thatshesleeps with anything that moves and has bad taste in men. Oh, and she thinks that I’ve tried to break up Charles and Jane and that I’m not a gentleman.”
“Wow,” Rich let out a low whistle. “You really do know how to make an impression.”
“Oh yeah, I’m gifted.”
“But you obviously don’t feel or think any of those things she accused you of.”
“No.” Darcy had a sudden realization.I should tell him about Wickham. All of it.
“But she thinks you do. Did you actually say something to her about her, um, dating habits?”
“I jumped to conclusions based on empirical observation. I neglected to ask pertinent questions.”
Rich groaned. “God, you’re a charmer.”
“I kept seeing her with different men. I didn’t know it was work related.”
“So, with all of that in your mind, why did you ask her out?”
Darcy took a deep breath and reached over to pull out a beer. He handed another one to his cousin and slowly walked past him to the darkening living room.Because I’m in love with her.He fell back into a chair.
“Because she’s smart and pretty. And fun to be around. And completely unpretentious.”
Rich, settling into the sofa, snorted. “All of that is true, but it describes a dozen women I could name. Please be more specific.”
Darcy took a long pull on his beer. “She’s…she’s somebody I want to know better,” he said quietly. “She’s so lively, but I feel comfortable around her. She makes me… I feel alive with her—happy.”
“Wow. I knew you liked her.”
Darcy shrugged. “Butshedidn’t.”
“Yet, she is the oil that makes your rusty locks swing open?”
Darcy looked up, annoyed. “Stop trying to use ridiculous Moldavian proverbs in America. They don’t translate well.”
Rich nodded. “Sorry, man. But whyher—why does she do that?”
“I have no idea. I just like being around her. Ineedto be around her.”
Rich cleared his throat. “So you can talk to her about your big, important life? Your professional triumphs, your awful taste in music, and your disgrace on the tennis court at the hands of your beloved and brilliant cousin Rich?”
“We neglected to cover most of those areas, nor did your name ever come up.” Darcy took another sip of beer and stared at the wall. Hishand twitched involuntarily, ready to stroke Coco’s head. He closed his eyes, fighting a familiar, unwelcomed wave of pain. As sudden as her death had been, it was going to take time to adjust to her absence. He missed her, especially now. She’d been a sweet dog.
