Page 92 of Darcy
“But you failed to show her your exhibition in the gallery down the road.” Dodger raises a brow.
Arlo shrugs, and his cheeks flush pink. “I was working up the courage.”
Damn it, there goes the last of my walls. I’m pretty sure Arlo, the softest, shyest of the band, is going to always be my kryptonite.
“Let’s go and relieve Emma of babysitting duty,” Slate suggests. “Then we can have a group date.” He hesitates. “Unless… you don’t want to.”
It’s visibly killing him to say the words. His brows are pinched, and his shoulders have dropped a fraction of an inch.
I take a deep breath and finally give in, letting the walls drop. “Yes, I’ll go on a group date with you.” I pause. “The trial period is over. I’m all in.”
Slate whoops, snatching me from Arlo and lifting me into the air, twirling me around until I have to swat at his shoulder to get him to let me go.
“You’re not going to regret this,” he promises.
“Put her down,” Dodger complains. “The rest of us want a turn.”
Slate rolls his eyes but does as he asks, and Dodger wastes no time crushing me in an all-encompassing hug.
“I swear, baby girl,” he whispers against my ear. “I’ll never, ever let you go again. Even if it’s dangerous.”
“Good thing I’ve got enough firepower to protect all of us,” I retort. “Now come on. I’m hungry, and you promised me a group date."
He releases me, and I instinctively reach back and grab Arlo’s hand. He didn’t come here expecting his apology to be ambushed by the other guys. He’s taking it pretty well, but I don’t want him to feel left out.
“There’s a little cafe in the gallery,” Slate says, leading the way and leaving Dodger free to take my other hand. “They do these amazing loaded bagels.”
Just as he promised, the bagels were the best I’d ever eaten. The guys almost don’t manage to tear me out of the tiny cafe, but in the end, the promise of seeing more of Arlo’s art is too tempting to resist.
There’s so much to see, and we wander around the brightly lit rooms slowly. The guys don’t complain, even when I drag them this way and that, searching out all of the coolest pieces. My favourite is a room filled with amorphous sculptures which somehow manage to trap human sensuality in multicoloured glass.
Well, it’s my favourite for all of five seconds, until we turn the corner.
“This is all you,” I gasp, staring at the walls in awe.
Arlo’s work is just as bold as before, a complete contradiction to the quiet man himself. The gallery has dedicated an entire room to his massive canvases, and I grin as I begin to recognise people from his life.
“Emma?” I guess, looking at a blown up painting of a teenager with a pixie cut glaring through the triangle of a clothes hanger.
“She was trying to force us into suits,” Dodger comments. “Even at fifteen, she was bossing us around.”
“You two almost caved that time,” Slate grouches. “If not for Prophet, we would’ve been infamous as the preppy losers of the metal world.”
I squint, pretending to imagine it. “Could’ve been cute.”
Arlo shakes his head, shaking in quiet laughter. “I don’t wear suits, Dark. Prophet might if his mom makes him, but the rest of us are allergic to that shit.”
“I guess I’ll just have to take Prophet with me whenever I want to feel fancy,” I reply, grinning.
Dodger raises a brow, knowing I live for comfort wear. “Does that happen often?”
I snort. “Only when I need to seduce a mark to get close to them.”
All three men freeze. Arlo looks away sharply, Slate’s hands curl into fists, and Dodger pins me with a look I can’t decipher.
“Is that something that happens often, baby girl?” he grates out.
Oh.Oh.They’re jealous.
