The words rooted him to the spot. On one level, it was validation, proof that someone could see the real him. That he could allow someone to see the real him. But that was exactly the problem—with Darcy, he had let down his guard. He didn’t feel the need to give her the facade he showed everyone else. Which was exactly why her declaration that he was no one had cut him straight to the bone.
He could see it now, Darcy facing judgment from her friends about being with him. She’d been…embarrassed.
“Was that before or after you said I was nothing?” He let the sarcasm give his words a razor-sharp edge.
“How is that different from what you do?” She was on the defense now, her hackles raised. He hadn’t played into her sweet, little hands like she’d thought he would.
Damn it, he was hurt. And that pissed him the hell off, because he was supposed to be better than that. It was his own fucking fault for being tempted by the sympathy she’d shown him and his father that day at the hospital. He’d gotten a taste for it, let himself crave more than was safe.
Already, she was throwing things back in his face. If he let himself fall for her, how long would it be before he was in his father’s shoes—broken and hopeless?
“How is it different from what I do?” He curled his hands around the edge of his chair to stop himself from slamming a palm against the desk. “Do you mean when I introduced you to my father? When I let you into the one part of my life that I keep to myself?”
Emotion flashed across her face like a bolt of lightning. He’d said too much.
“No, you’re just quick to listen to a bunch of anonymous women on a website.” He let out a bitter laugh. “Not all of them are even real reviews. I don’t screw so many people that I forget them.”
“I never said—”
“You implied.” He leaned back in his chair and watched the kaleidoscope of realization shift over her face. “How easy would it be for them to hop online, create a fake account, and pretend to be some jaded woman? My job has been hanging on by a thread and there are people waiting for me to fall.”
“Reed, I’m sorry—”
“No.” He held up a hand, his whole body pulsing with frustration. “Thanks for proving you’re like everyone else.”
She pushed up out of her seat and planted her hands on the table. “I came here to tell you I want to be with you.”
The words sucked the life out of the meeting room. He didn’t know she’d shouted the words until two of his colleagues gaped at them from the other side of the glass wall. When they caught the end of his glare, they hurried on, heads bowed. No doubt headed straight for the office kitchen to pass on the gossip.
“I mean…” Darcy shook her head. Clearly the confession wasn’t planned. “I just… You’re right. I judged you and I’m sorry. I was worried about my friends meeting you and passing judgment because they do believe what people are saying.”
“I’m glad you’ve found it in yourself to be honest,” he drawled.
“You’re not going to give me an inch, are you?” She clucked her tongue and the little silver ball flashed in the light.
His brain was trying to do too many things at once—namely, processing that she wanted to be with him (whatever the hell that actually meant), and fortifying the walls he’d put in place long ago to protect himself from this very situation.
The only way he’d be able to put a stop to this once and for all would be to make sure she stayed away. Frustrated and worn out as he was, he didn’t want to hurt Darcy. In fact, the only thing he did want was to bundle her up in his arms and kiss her until they’d smoothed over all the mistakes and missteps and hurtful words.
But his life was already in the toilet, and he couldn’t afford anything that might throw him off track. It was taking every ounce of his willpower to keep coming into work and making small talk with the assholes he knew were talking shit behind his back. But he was doing it for his dad.
“Darcy, I have nothing to give you. Not an inch, not an apology, not an excuse.”
Her large blue eyes blinked at him, blinding him with her determined sincerity. For once, she didn’t have a mouthful of comebacks and snark…which made him feel even worse.
“I feel like we have something. I’m not experienced at the whole casual hook-up thing…but that night you came to my house wasn’t just sex.” Her perfect, pouty mouth pressed into a tight line. “We talked about some really painful, personal stuff. You trusted me with that. And I trusted you.”
“I thought I could win fucked-up family bingo.” He shrugged.
“Okay, Mr. Smart Guy. So that’s normal, is it? You sleep with a girl and tell her all about your life?”
Hell no. It was the furthest thing from normal. He’d told Darcy more even than Barbie Waverly, who was a true friend. Ice dripped down the length of his spine. It terrified him how much Darcy could cut through his bullshit. In mere weeks, she knew him better than anyone else.
You were too busy not taking her seriously to see how much she’d gotten under your skin. She crept into your life via the side door when you were fortifying the front.
“You’re right, I don’t.” He stood, hating himself more with every breath. “But I’m not looking for a relationship. And even if I were, I wouldn’t be looking for it with someone like you.”
The blue of her irises looked even more vibrant as tears glimmered, threatening to spill. “What do you mean, someone like me?”
“This whole ‘fancy pants’ fundraiser thing—that’s my world. Gala dinners, media, and reporters. Places like that restaurant where we had lunch with Dave Bretton.” The words burned on the way out like cheap liquor. Her expression was totally unfiltered, the hurt pouring from her like he’d cut her open. “When I settle down, I need someone who fits in with that scene.”
She dropped her head, her eyes skating down over her kitschy T-shirt and denim cutoffs. To him, she looked like a million bucks—far better than any polished society girl in a ball gown. Christ, why did she have to keep pushing his boundaries? He was already hurting, frustrated. He was using that to push her away—and what had she done? She’d been honest with him and taken the sting out of his anger.
Reed felt like the biggest asshole on the face of the earth, but this was the only way he knew how to protect himself. To ensure she didn’t try again when his willpower was weak. Because the second he’d woken up in her bed, her smile lighting him up, he could see himself bending to this woman—he could see himself falling hard and fast until he ended up bachelor roadkill on the Manhattan sidewalk.
Given what had happened next, he was right to be concerned. She would ruin him like his mother had ruined his father, and he would allow her to do it.
“I see.” She bobbed her head, her gaze stuck on the floor as she wrapped her arms around her waist. “I’m not well dressed or pretty enough to be anything real to you. Good to know.”
She turned and walked from the room while every fiber of his being screamed at him to go after her. To throw himself at her feet and beg forgiveness. But it was better this way…no matter how much it felt like a colossal mistake.
Chapter 24
Dear Darcy,
I want you to understand why I did what I did.
A good part of my job is rewriting someone’s mistakes. I can turn even the most vile human into someone you might consider having a drink with. It’s a skill, one I used to be proud of. Something I almost never do, however, is issue an actual apology. It implies ownership of an error and means taking responsibility, two things I’m not very good at.
I behaved poorly. Reprehensibly. I really fucked up.
I wish I could take back every word I said because I intentionally hurt you and each day that kills me a little more. How I feel about you frightens me.
You were right. It wasn’t just casual sex.
I don’t know how to
make it better.
Reed stuffed the piece of paper, with what was probably the world’s most pathetic apology on it, into his pocket. Darcy was a librarian, for crying out loud. A bookworm. She’d probably read love letters from the Shakespearean period that made his attempt look like something a first grader had vomited up.
It’d been two days since she came to his office and there hadn’t been a peep since. He suspected she hadn’t breathed a word of it either, since Brad had mentioned that Cynthia wanted to get the four of them together after the game on Sunday.
He wasn’t sure if that made him feel better or worse.
His phone buzzed. A text from Peter Law: She’s here, give me a few minutes. Reed drained the rest of his Americano and forced himself not to turn and look. He was about to meet Leanne of Bad Bachelors…not that she knew it yet. After Peter had figured out who she was and what her schedule looked like, they’d devised a plan.
Peter was going to pose as a source—a colleague of Reed’s ready to spill the beans—and set up a meeting using a temporary Bath and Weston email address. Reed was going to be lying in wait, ready to hijack the meeting. Luckily for him, Leanne had suggested her usual café, which was full of business folk, so he blended right in at the bar.
His phone buzzed again: Back corner. Now.
He looked up and caught the back of Peter’s stocky frame and shaggy, gray hair. Leanne was hidden, her back to the corner, which would no doubt seem like the perfect, intimate spot for an interview.
Throwing a few dollars onto the counter to cover a tip, he slid off the stool and headed toward the back of the seating area. He was at their table before she even looked up, but the second his eyes met hers, he realized something was wrong. For starters, he knew this woman, and her name wasn’t Leanne.
The round pixie face of Darcy’s best friend, Annie, stared back at him. “Well, well.” Her pert, little nose turned up, but a deeper emotion flashed in her eyes as she swung her head between Peter and Reed. Fear. “Here to threaten me, Mr. McMahon?”
“It’s Reed.” He stood at the edge of the table, casting a shadow over her. “Since you seem to know me so well, there’s no need for such formality. Although I take it your name isn’t actually Leanne?”
“Legally it is. But everyone calls me Annie.” To her credit, she didn’t try to run from the confrontation. In fact, she seemed to relish it. Her dark eyes glinted as she turned her gaze to Peter. “I suppose this was all a ruse. Clever. I didn’t see it coming.”
Peter pushed up and shuffled out of the tight space. He planted a heavy hand on Reed’s shoulder. “Good luck.”
Reed dropped down into the seat opposite Annie, but a hard lump of ice had settled at the base of his spine. Any petty pleasure he might have taken from this meeting had dissolved the second he saw her face. It was hard to think of this woman as some cartoon villainess now that she was a real person—not to mention someone connected to Darcy.
He propped one ankle on the opposite knee and let the silence drag out for a few extra heartbeats. Annie shifted in her chair, but she didn’t attempt to leave. The woman was prepared for a fight. “Are we going to dance around it, or are you going to admit you’re not just a writer for Bad Bachelors?” he asked.
She cocked her head. “What makes you say that?”
“I’ve done some digging. I know Bad Bachelors isn’t deriving an income, at least not through any obvious means.” He cocked his head, studying her. “So I doubt you have money to pay staff.”
“Then you’ll also know Bad Bachelors was set up to maintain the privacy of the people who run it. It could be anyone.” Her voice was cool and calm.
“But it’s not anyone, is it? It’s you.”
She lifted a suit-clad shoulder in a delicate shrug. “Rumors are funny like that: lots of people like to take a guess, but no one really knows.”
He ground his back teeth together. “Yes, I am aware of that.”
“Did you come here to waste my time playing a guessing game, Reed?” She reached for the latte in front of her. “Because, believe it or not, I have a day job to get back to.”
He leaned back in his chair while his mind whirred, desperately searching for a solution. The plan had been simple—meet this mysterious Leanne and threaten to expose her as the owner of Bad Bachelors. Because, after trawling the site, he’d collected dozens of names of other men who’d be very interested in knowing the identity of the person behind the blasted site making their lives miserable.
But now his plan was anything but simple.
“You’re friends with Darcy.” He blurted the words out because the rest of the script had flown out the window the second he’d laid eyes on her.
What does it matter? You and Darcy are done.
But every time he said it to himself, his body rebelled, as if physically incapable of processing the thought. No matter how hard he tried, saying her name still caused his heart to thump and the feeling hadn’t lessened since their conversation. But he was out of his depth now, beyond the precedent set by any previous dating debacles.
He wasn’t supposed to regret calling this off.
“I am. Did she tell you we’ve known each other since we were kids?” She might have been able to keep her expression neutral, but her eyes betrayed her. They were hard. Judging. “We grew up together. She’s practically family.”
“So I guess you trusted her enough to tell her that you run Bad Bachelors, then?”
“No, I haven’t told her.” Her eyes searched his face as if waiting for a reaction. But he didn’t give her one. “What do you want, Reed?”
“You’ve caused trouble for a lot of people.”
“And by ‘caused trouble’ you mean I’ve given women a platform to help one another and be informed.” Annie sipped her coffee. “Yes, I have.”
“Please,” he scoffed. “Half the reviews on your damn site aren’t worth the pixels they’re displayed on. I know some of my reviews have nothing to do with my dating habits.”
“I work very hard to weed out fake reviews,” she said indignantly. “I’ve designed an algorithm that specifically targets bogus accounts. I know it’s not perfect—”
“So you know they’re not all real.” His jaw ticked.
“I take the steps any online business would to ensure quality data,” she stammered. “But if you have enough enemies willing to make fake accounts, that’s more of a reflection on you than it is on my business model.”
“Why are you targeting me?”
“I’m not. I don’t know you.” Annie sucked on the inside of her cheek, her gaze roaming him for a second. “But I know your type.”
“So I was simply the lucky guy who rose to the top of the shit heap?”
“Something like that.” Her lips twisted. “But the fact that you hurt my friend didn’t help.”
Ah, so that’s when it had become personal.
“Who do you think she came to in tears after her little visit to your office on Monday? She was a wreck, Reed.” Annie’s smug expression shifted to unadulterated animosity. “It took me hours to console her. How dare you treat her like that.”
Letting her leave his office had been one of the hardest things he’d ever done in his life. Her tearful expression had been a recurring image, haunting him nightly. He tried to tell himself it was a small pain now to avoid a larger pain later, but the more he repeated his mantra, the less impact it had.
“I deserve that.” He nodded. “But you’ve made my life hell, Annie. You don’t know me. You don’t know how hard I work, what I do for the people I care about.”
Guilt flashed across her face. “It’s not about how you treat the people you care about. It’s about how you treat everyone else.”
“It’s not really about how I treat anyone though, is it?”
She’d admitted it herself—she wasn’t targeting
him until the morning he’d walked out of Darcy’s bedroom. But Bad Bachelors had been talking about him for weeks before that.
“Why did you create the app?” he asked.
“Because I wanted women to know who they were getting into bed with.” She swallowed. Annie might have had a good poker face, but Reed could still detect the slight waver in her voice, the way she white-knuckled her coffee cup.
This was a woman who’d been hurt. Badly.
“It’s hard to find someone who doesn’t say whatever’s necessary to get what they want,” she added. “As I’m sure you’re aware. You’ve made a career out of twisting the facts after all.”
“I never twisted anything with Darcy. I was up front with her from day one.” Up front, yes. But he’d still shut her out the second things got complicated.
“You hurt her.” Annie frowned. “She really liked you, Reed. Against my advice and everyone else’s, she thought there was something worth pursuing.”
He could tell Annie was torn. It was obvious that Darcy was very important to her and that she was pissed at him for how he’d treated her. Rightfully so. But if she really had built an algorithm to fish out fake profiles, then perhaps her intentions with the app weren’t to bring people down. Maybe she really did want the truth.
And that was something he could appeal to.
“And you thought it would help Darcy to create a fake interview with my ex-fiancée?”
She looked down into her coffee. “That wasn’t one of my finest moments, I’ll admit. And I’ve removed the interview and apologized to Barbara.”
He bit back the urge to ask when his apology would be forthcoming. “Thank you,” he said. “She was really stressed about it.”
“So what, you’ve come here to change my mind about Bad Bachelors?” She looked at him warily. “I’m not going to shut it down.”
Bad Bachelor Page 27
