Bad Bachelor

by Stefanie London

  Cynthia leaned back and narrowed her expertly made-up eyes. “That sounds a hell of a lot like ‘I think you’re making poor life decisions, but I’m not going to say it.’”

  “Who’s got the judgment face now?”

  A smile twitched on her sister’s lips. “I want you to meet him.”

  Darcy fought back a groan. The chance of her meeting this douche canoe without putting him in a headlock was slim. But Cynthia would continue to see him with or without her blessing, which meant it was better if Darcy stayed involved…just in case.

  “Anything for you,” she said.

  “Don’t worry, you’ll love him as much as I do.” A grin lit Cynthia’s face. “He’s wonderful.”

  “I’m sure he is, Cyn. If you’re dating him, he must be pretty amazing.”

  * * *

  Darcy rolled the empty coffee cup between her palms and watched as the dregs swished around. She never finished the last bit. There would always be one mouthful at the bottom like a sacrifice to the coffee gods. It was a weird quirk that had developed over the years, but she couldn’t seem to break it.

  She glanced up and looked around the small café where she was supposed to be meeting Reed to discuss the guest list and venue for the fundraiser. The place he’d taken her to on Monday was all kinds of wrong—too posh, too…fussy. She wanted somewhere with character. Hopefully he had other options up his sleeve.

  Except that Reed was supposed to meet her half an hour ago and he hadn’t contacted her with an excuse for his tardiness. Why would he? He’d probably stroll in here like he owned the place, without a hint of apology.

  Just the way he did everything else.

  Wednesdays were her sacred days. Since she didn’t get a typical weekend, like people who worked in an office, she relished having a free day midweek. She’d often spend it alone, taking her bike to Prospect Park to enjoy the scenery. Or she’d curl up on the couch with a book. She’d brought one with her today in anticipation of getting some reading done, but her concentration had waned. The words seemed to move about on the page, and eventually, she’d shoved the book back into her bag.

  Ever since she’d seen Cynthia last night, Darcy had struggled not to worry about her little sister. What kind of thirtysomething guy dated a girl barely old enough to drink and let her get a tattoo of his name on her thigh? It’d taken all her willpower not to tell her sister to dump this Brad guy. Warning flags had popped up all over the place. But she, unlike her parents, could accept that Cynthia was a grown woman capable of making her own decisions. However bad they may be…

  But Darcy would check in more often out of sisterly concern. Like, every couple of hours.

  Her phone vibrated against the café’s table and a number flashed up on screen. She swallowed. She might have deleted Ben’s contact information, but she would recognize his number anywhere.

  After she’d canceled the wedding, he’d called a lot. Left messages on her phone and with her mother, claiming that he wanted to make amends. That he wanted to apologize for how he’d handled things. Not once had she answered him. It’d been a year and he still called every other month, still left a voice message. And she still deleted it the second she heard his familiar, “Hi, Darcy.”

  She rejected the call and rubbed her hands over her eyes. If she ever figured out what to say to him, then maybe she’d pick up his call. But until then, she was going to play the avoidance game. Thankfully, he hadn’t decided to push the issue by turning up at her house or her work. For all his faults, he knew her well enough not to do that.

  Maybe this would be a good time to check out one of the men Annie and Remi had suggested—distract herself with thinking about the future instead of the past. She brought up the Bad Bachelors app and looked at her favorites list. The profile for Darren Montgomery sat at the top, his picture smiling up at her.

  Darren was the IT manager who built furniture in his spare time. He had a solidly positive rating corroborated by several reviews…but not too many reviews. There was a fine line between the two, she’d discovered. Too many reviews could mean commitment issues, higher potential for crazy exes, or some other reason why things continually didn’t work out.

  But Darren could be an option. He was kind and funny, according to one reviewer. A true gentleman, said another. The only negative thing was that apparently he worked a lot. That wasn’t so bad.

  “Not you too,” a deep male voice came from close behind her. Reed. “Is everyone using that goddamn app?”

  His voice was like liquid sex. Hot, deep, smooth.

  Get ahold of yourself, Darcy. Remember the thing about not becoming a puddle?

  “Research is important. If women read reviews online before they buy a book, why wouldn’t they read reviews before they go on a date?”

  “Maybe I’m old fashioned, but I thought dating was about getting to know someone without any preconceived judgments.” No apology for his tardiness…as she’d expected.

  “If you’d actually taken the time to get to know more women, you wouldn’t be in such a bind.”

  To her surprise, he laughed. “You know what? I like you, Darcy.”

  The words bounced around in her brain, colliding with the questions she would never dare ask—like whether her attraction was reciprocated.

  Today, he looked less done than he had on their previous meetings. His dark hair was rumpled, like he’d run his fingers through it one too many times. He didn’t wear a tie, and his open collar revealed a sliver of tanned skin. Reed certainly wasn’t the stereotypical pasty office worker, that was for damn sure.

  “Close your mouth, darlin’. You’re staring.” His lips quirked.

  And just like that, her buzzing anticipation was replaced by the resounding urge to toss a drink in his face. “You wish, Reed. You’re not my type.”

  “Oh no? You’d prefer Five-Star Darren, would you?” He inclined his head toward her phone and she snatched it out of his line of sight. “Nice guys aren’t good in bed.”

  Her face was so hot she had serious concerns about spontaneous combustion. “And I suppose you’re the authority on what constitutes being good in bed.”

  “I see my reputation precedes me.” The smirk bloomed into a full-blown wolfish grin. “My offer still stands, by the way. If you want to throttle me, I’m definitely up for it.”

  “You…just.…” The words stuttered out of her mouth like a toddler had taken over her brain and was mashing the controls with its fist. “You’re a jerk.”

  He shrugged and signaled for her to follow him. “I’ve been called worse.”

  “I thought we were going to discuss the guest list,” she said, annoyed that he was getting under her skin so quickly.

  “We are. But I’ve got an appointment in the financial district, so we’re going to conduct our meeting on the way.”

  “And what exactly am I going to do down there?” Her protest might have had more weight if she hadn’t immediately followed him out of the café like a devoted puppy.

  “Whatever you like. The company driver will bring you back whenever you’re ready. Don’t worry. I wouldn’t leave you stranded.”

  “How do you know I don’t have somewhere to be?”

  “Do you?” His gaze swept over her. “I can tell you’re not going to work.”

  Damn it. She should have worn something other than a pair of tattered denim shorts, a black House Stark T-shirt, and Dr. Martens. “Okay fine, I don’t have anywhere to be. I’m just pointing it out so you know how rude you sound.”

  He blinked. “So we’re still having the meeting?”

  “Yes,” she huffed.

  They stopped beside a black car with tinted windows. Out of nowhere, a driver appeared and opened the door for them. Darcy suddenly felt underdressed, which was stupid since they were only going for a ride.

  “So tell me:
What’s so appealing about Five-Star Darren?” Reed asked as they slid into the back seat. A glass partition separated them from the driver.

  “None of your business.” Oh God, they were not having this conversation. Not while a billion dirty thoughts were driving her to distraction. Damn him, why did he have to mention sex?

  Her hormones hadn’t been this rowdy since high school. But the second he got close and his clean, warm scent invaded her nostrils, it was like the sexy bits of her body started doing tequila shots.

  “Oh come on, you can trust me. I might even be able to give you some advice.” His brown eyes twinkled. They were framed by full, thick lashes—the kind of lashes that had no business being on a man.

  God, they were far too close in the back seat of the car. Her bare leg was mere inches from his, and the scent of his aftershave invaded her nostrils. It was crisp, clean, with a hint of citrus.

  Damn delectable.

  “You were late today,” she blurted out, hoping the abrupt change in conversation might steer him away from delving into her nonexistent dating life—and perhaps jolt her brain into not focusing on how good he smelled. “Half an hour late and I was sitting there, waiting.”

  “My meeting ran over and my phone died. I could have gone back to the office to email you, but that would have meant being later than I already was.” He reached for a bottle of water that sat in a compartment in the door. When he offered her one, she shook her head. “I apologize for keeping you waiting.”

  “Thank you. I appreciate it.”

  “Now, back to your dating life—”

  “No. We’re not having this conversation.” She held up a hand. “Besides, why do you care?”

  “Because, after careful deliberation, I’ve decided that you are interesting.”

  “Gee, thanks.” Darcy snorted. “I’ll pass on that so-called compliment.”

  “So-called?”

  “You do know ‘interesting’ is usually a code word for ‘weird,’ right? It’s not much better than telling a girl she has a great personality.”

  “What’s that a code for?”

  “Ugly.”

  He brought the water bottle to his mouth and sipped. Full lips hinted at sinful activities and Darcy tried to quash the flutter low in her belly. He probably knew exactly what to do with his lips too.

  Stop it.

  “You are interesting…in the non–code word sense. Even if you do think I’m a jerk. And Five-Star Darren would be a terrible match, for what it’s worth.”

  Curiosity tugged at her. She knew nothing about the dating world, and it was clear he was well experienced. Surely there wouldn’t be any harm in gleaning some information from him…for research purposes, of course.

  “Why’s that?” she asked.

  “All these women have rated him highly, yet they haven’t stayed with him. Why would that be?”

  “I don’t know.” She frowned. “Maybe it just wasn’t the right time.”

  “For all those women?”

  Okay, so that did sound a bit suspicious when he put it like that. “But the reviews—”

  “What do the reviews say?”

  She pulled up Darren’s profile on the app and scanned down the page. “‘Great guy but the timing wasn’t right.’” She shot him a smug look. “See? Told you.”

  “Keep reading.”

  “He’s a total gentleman, but they didn’t have many common interests. Uh, another one says their jobs made dating too hard but that he was a nice person. Apparently, he’s romantic, but there wasn’t enough spark.” Darcy kept scrolling. “He’s kind and funny, a great conversationalist. I can’t see any red flags here.”

  “He’s got a small dick.”

  Darcy almost choked. “Excuse me?”

  Reed shrugged. “Or he doesn’t know how to make a woman come.”

  “Stop,” she hissed, the heat flushing through her body in a way that was entirely too pleasurable. Totally, totally inappropriate. “You can’t say that.”

  “Why not? It’s just sex. And sometimes you have to look at what people aren’t saying to understand what they are.” He nodded. “Words can be unreliable like that.”

  Darcy shook her head and stuffed her phone into her bag. This conversation had shot out of her comfort zone. Like a whole solar system out of her comfort zone. Listening to Reed talk about sex was… God, she didn’t even know. Her imagination was serving up all kinds of dirty scenarios, but she tamped them down.

  Reed was off-limits. Not only because of the bad reviews, but also because it was clear he could run circles around her verbally. There wasn’t a doubt in her mind that he would do the same thing in the bedroom.

  Maybe that’s what you need. Someone to show you the ropes…with his rope.

  No. Stop. Right now.

  “You’re staring again,” he said. “You got a crush on me or something?”

  “I’m trying to see if telekinesis is a real thing so I can pop your head like a grape.”

  He barked a laugh. “Right, well, at least you’re honest. Shall we get on with the work?”

  “Yes, please.”

  Chuckling, Reed reached for his laptop, which was jutting out of the pocket behind the driver’s seat when the driver lowered the glass partition.

  “Sorry to interrupt. There’s an urgent call for you, sir.” The driver took his earpiece out and handed a cell phone back to Reed. “Someone’s been trying to get ahold of you.”

  “Hello?” A moment later, the color drained from Reed’s face. “Of course. I’ll be right there.”

  Chapter 7

  “Reed McMahon doesn’t give a crap about anyone but himself.”

  —ILoveBagels88

  Reed kept the phone to his ear a moment longer than necessary so he could put reality off for as long as possible. There weren’t a lot of things that could throw him off balance. But this…this was his Achilles’ heel.

  Your father’s been admitted to the emergency room. He had a fall…

  His chest clenched. They’d admitted him over an hour ago. He fought the urge to pound his fist into something. Why today of all days did his phone have to flake out? Donna had likely tried the office first. But it probably took them a while to figure out which driver he’d gone with, since he didn’t use the booking system like he was supposed to.

  The thought of the old man lying there while Reed had no idea anything was going on made him want to scream.

  He’s okay, but they’re keeping him overnight for observation. It was lucky I was there with him…

  What if she hadn’t been? What if he’d been alone like he always wanted to be? Reed’s breath came short and choppy. What if he’d hit his head?

  You don’t have to come now. I know you’re busy…

  Is that what they thought of him? That he would leave his father to suffer alone while he took care of more important things? He wasn’t his mother, for crying out loud.

  “Reed?” Darcy touched him tentatively on his arm. “Is everything okay?”

  She snatched her hand back when he sucked in a breath, his fist curling around the phone tight enough that the screen was close to cracking. He would not lose his shit now, not while someone might see. Not while she might see.

  “We have to postpone this meeting.” He ground the words out, packing down the worry and concern until it was nothing more than a little lump behind his breastbone. He’d deal with it later. “I have something to attend to.”

  Darcy’s gaze tracked his face, her concern a foreign expression to him. It wasn’t the kind of look people aimed in his direction too often. Since he’d met her, she’d looked at him as one might an intimidating dog. But now her brows were crinkled and her blue eyes were unusually soft. It made the vicious churn in his stomach even worse.

  Reed directed the driver to take them
to the Brooklyn Hospital Center. Luckily, they were headed in the right direction. “We can let you out here, if you like,” he said, turning back to Darcy.

  “It’s okay.” She toyed with the hem of her shorts. “I’m in Park Slope, so the hospital isn’t too far from me. I only came into the city to meet with you.”

  He nodded stiffly. “I’ll get Phil to give you a lift home after he drops me off.”

  During the week, the roads were like a clogged artery. As much as he wanted to be at the hospital right this second, there was no rushing the lumbering beast that was Manhattan traffic.

  He stole a glance at Darcy and her eyes were still on him. But this time he couldn’t bring himself to tease her for staring. Usually women’s appreciative gazes slid over his skin, stroking his ego but otherwise having little impact. Darcy didn’t stare so much as study. Her eyes picked him apart, peeling back the layers until he was nothing but bone.

  “Why do you look at me like that?” he asked.

  She blinked. “Like what?”

  “Like you’re trying to figure me out.” He ran a hand over his jaw, his finger feeling for the little nick he’d made when shaving that morning. “You look at me like I’m a hieroglyph.”

  “You know, that’s very poetic.” Her lips twisted into a smirk. “You might be a frustrated writer.”

  “Is this the point where you tell me I should spend more time in your library?” He looked out the window and willed the traffic to move faster.

  “You never know, you might enjoy it.” She wrinkled her nose. “Do you enjoy things?”

  The question—along with her exaggeratedly inquisitive expression—caught him by surprise and a hearty laugh erupted from deep inside him. “Do I enjoy things? What kind of a question is that?”

  She sat up straighter, clearly pleased by his reaction. “A genuine one. All I’ve seen so far is your ability to talk circles around me, but it’s mostly insubstantial fluff. I wondered if you ever take the time to enjoy things…like, having a hobby or something.”

  “That’s a little insulting,” he said. “I’m a regular guy, and I take pleasure in regular things.”