Over You (A Mr. Darcy Valentine's Romance Novel)

by H. M. Ward

  “If that was the highlight your high school career, I almost feel sorry for you.”

  “You still remember our moves?”

  “We only practiced them ten thousand times. They’re ingrained in my muscles. We would’ve won, too, if not for Cinnamon Taylor and her pole dancing routine.” We both make a face.

  "Her routine wasn't that great," Colin says with a smirk, “but her boobs popping out while she was hanging upside down might’ve sealed the judges decision. They were pretty nice boobs.”

  “You noticed that?”

  “Everyone noticed that! I’m gay, not dead.” Colin's preference for men over women is a closely guarded secret my sisters and I have kept for years.

  “Here comes the opening beat.” Colin spins me out and then pulls me back to his chest. He smiles down at me, and we’re off.

  “This is still my favorite song,” he pants as the beat picks up. He starts to sing, “Bei Mir Bist Du Shein… Dude, it means that you’re grand.”

  I can’t help it. I start laughing instead of worrying so much about the other people in the room.

  “And beautiful! And what’s the last major hit that had any Yiddish? Plus it’s a song about hotness, and you’re hot—I’m hot.”

  “Yeah, it’s a hot time in the old town tonight.” He leads me into a spin and twirls me out, lifts my hands up and then slides them down my sides.

  What the? “Uh Colin, dear—that’s not swing dancing.”

  “I know, but there are some hot guys here.”

  “Don’t make me lead. You know I’ll do it.”

  Colin smirks and the head tilt he offers suggests I couldn't lead even if I wanted.

  My jaw drops into an O, and I stare at him with big cartoonish eyes for a moment. “Yeah, you’re done, pretty boy. My turn.” I tug his wrist and pull-push him into submission.

  He frowns and balks slightly when I pull him close. He whispers into my ear, “That was low. You emasculated me in front of my friends.” He’s grinning. I can feel it.

  I tease back, “Don’t be silly, you don’t have any friends. Now, can we finish this little dance with a bang?”

  “We better, everyone is watching.”

  I blanch as I look around. Crap, they are watching—even Darcy who is looking extra judgmental with Anne at his side. He walked away from me. And he’s an ass.

  “Done, and if you feel like you can do the throw, go for it.”

  Colin seems surprised. “Really? You sure?”

  “Yup. Go for it.”

  Colin takes the lead again, spins me out, and we fall into the routine, William Darcy completely forgotten. I feel confident, sexy, and not the least bit klutzy, as we move across the dance floor. Other guests move back and form a circle, watching us dance. Briefly, I catch sight of Jane, Cameron Bingley still beside her, both clapping and cheering for us. I lock my eyes on Colin's, anticipating his moves and following where he puts me. The guests around us become one big blur until nothing remains but the music.

  It's been a long time since I've danced like this, and my breathing sounds more like panting. Colin spins me again, sending my hair flying into my face, and I toss it back, laughing. Colin chuckles too, and I notice he's also breathing heavy with the effort of the routine.

  Then, with a dimpled smile, he pulls me to him and slides his hand along my cheek. He dips me back and says, “Kiss me.” He sings the words, perfectly on pitch, and watches me. He knows I won’t kiss people I don’t love, but I do love him.

  I pull on the back of his neck, and his lips come down on my mouth. It’s a long, sweet, chaste kiss. A moment later, he swings me out again, and I giggle in a whirl of emotion.

  I wonder what Darcy thought about that kiss. I wish I could look at him and see if he’s still there, jealous or cold. Odds are he’s still standing there with an icicle up his ass, but you never know.

  The couples that were dancing have faded away. I’m no longer certain if they’re there or not. Colin keeps my gaze fixed on his face as we come close before twirling me out.

  “Let’s do it,” he says, breathlessly.

  “Go for it.” He spins me out and then back. People love seeing spins and the flutter of the hem of my dress. The only thing they love more are throws. Have I mentioned throws are hard? It requires complete trust, and I rarely offer any.

  This is crazy.

  It’s been ten years.

  This is insane.

  I’m going to fall on my face. Insta-nose job. The hotel will probably sue me for ruining their floor.

  The movement feels normal, like I’ve done it before, so when he grabs my waist, dips down low, and then swings me up high the first time, I’m all smiles. When I slam into his body, my legs V around his torso with my feet next to his head. I know what’s coming next. There’s enough adrenaline flowing through me to power LIPA.

  I dip backward and reach for the floor, crawling between his legs while he swings a leg over my head. He jerks me upright, spins me around, and grabs my waist. This time, I’m going straight up, all the way upside down.

  The song crescendos as my heart slams into my chest, exhilaration flooding my body in waves, and then he does it. I swing up, our arms lock, and I kick my feet over my head for a beat before he swings me down so that my legs wrap around his waist. He spins us in a circle, laughing, and kisses my face—grinning so widely I know he’s truly happy in that moment.

  Colin’s life is such a mess it’s rare to see him like this. I kiss him back and hold up his arm, encouraging the crowd to clap for him, and they do.

  He shifts me up higher to unlock my legs, then lowers me back to the ground. My arms and legs are shaking, and I fall into his face, smooshing him. It’s totally graceless, but I don’t cower or cry—this was too perfect.

  “Mour fer lel.”

  I pull back and laugh. “I’m sorry. What’d you say?”

  “I said yours are real.”

  “Colin!” I feel a blush set my cheeks on fire as I swat at my friend. He sets me down and beams at me.

  “That was awesome,” Cameron says from behind me. We turn to face him, and Colin drops his hand to my waist, loosely holding me. “Mr. and Mrs. Bennet, you have a very talented daughter.”

  Mother rushes over, no doubt horrified by my lack of conformity. I hope I don’t have to live in a box because of this. She did suggest I dance with someone.

  “That’s very kind of you to say, Mr. Bingley. Though I wouldn't call that spectacle talent.” Mother shoots an icy glare in my direction. “Now, Jane, on the other hand, is very talented.”

  Colin glances at me, letting Mother's comment roll off. The next song begins, and couples are dancing to slower swing this time. I feel Colin start to sway to the beat next to me.

  “Mother,” Jane murmurs, embarrassed. Poor kid.

  Dad claps Colin's shoulder affectionately. "That was quite a finale."

  “Really, Beth,” Mother says. “That... That... Whatever that performance was should be left for professionals. Oh! Your gown!”

  I look down to find the beautiful rented dress torn at the hem. Damn, I hope she insured it.

  “I’ll mend it when we get home,” I say. Mother glares down her nose at me disapprovingly.

  “Oh, Mr. Darcy," Mother says gesturing behind me, her voice dripping with desperation. "What did you think of Beth’s dancing?”

  He turns to me. He’s so close, I can catch the scent of him. My stomach twists and I notice Colin holding me tighter. Damn it, he can tell what Darcy does to me.

  Darcy carefully selects his words. “What you did out there was... something. Like nothing I’ve ever seen before.”

  I scowl.

  Before I can respond, Mother steps between us, ending our stare down. “Mr. Bingley, Jane dances divinely, don't you think?”

  Jane gasps, pink flooding her perfect face.

  Cameron’s green eyes glow as he looks at Jane.

  “She most certainly does. It’s like dancing with an an
gel.”

  “She’s had lessons from the top dance instructor in the city. He came highly recommended from Catherine Degatto. Do you know Catherine, Mr. Darcy?”

  “Of course. She’s a trusted business associate.” William emphasizes the word ‘trusted,’ but Mother babbles on without catching his insult.

  Mother goes on to tell him how she and Degatto are close friends (they aren't) and how my father often gives Degatto financial advice (he doesn't).

  I glance over at Dad to see what he thinks about Mother's little white lies, but he doesn't seem to be paying attention. After checking several different screens on his cell phone, he absentmindedly excuses himself to make another call. Mother doesn't even notice him leave.

  “Dancing isn’t the only talent Jane has, Cameron—may I call you Cameron?" She doesn't wait for him to answer. "She’s also an outstanding artist. She painted the mural in the new wing of the children’s hospital. It’s magnificent. Even the mayor said he’d never seen such beautiful art. He’s considering commissioning Jane to do some pieces for his Martha’s Vineyard home, you know (he's not).”

  At this comment, Darcy's eyes snap toward Mother disapprovingly. His head nods slightly, as if confirming something to himself.

  “Really? I didn’t know that,” Cameron says with genuine interest. He runs his hand through his silky hair and offers a shy smile. “I don’t know if you’ve heard, but I—”

  “May I have a word with you,” Darcy interrupts, his voice stern.

  “Excuse me,” Cameron smiles as Darcy pulls him aside.

  Mother's jaw drops at the rude interruption.

  I'm not surprised. Despite my dislike for the man, if I were in Darcy's situation, I'd want to protect my friend from being manipulated, too.

  I watch Cameron frown at Darcy, shaking his head as if he can't believe what he's hearing. All of this is easily solved by people just minding their own business. It's obvious Cameron likes Jane. Darcy and Mother just need to let things sort themselves out.

  “Jane, don't just stand there. Do something, anything,” Mother hisses. “Mr. Bingley must invite you to his home.”

  “I-I-I don't know what to say,” Jane stammers, her skin turning green.

  “Well, figure it out before he returns.”

  Jane nods and looks like she may hurl on the spot. I hate this. I wish Mother wouldn’t push her so hard, but I have no idea how to make things easier for her.

  Just when we could all use a good distraction, Gwen runs up to Colin, her face shining.

  “That was spectacular! Where did you learn to dance like that? Hi, I’m Gwen, by the way," she says to Colin, "William’s sister.”

  At that moment, Darcy suddenly joins us again, as if we can't be trusted alone with his sister.

  “Colin Frey,” Colin says while shaking her hand.

  “Oh, Colin Frey! I know your mother, Andrea,” Cameron exclaims on Darcy's heels. He reaches out to shake Colin’s hand as well. “I sit with her on the Children of the Military charity board. Sorry to interrupt. You were saying?”

  “I was telling Gwen that Beth and I learned the moves from...” Colin glances sideways at me and grins. “A dance studio that uh, well—”

  “We took lessons at Arthur Murray,” I interrupt, rescuing Colin from his memories.

  “You remember the Russian?” Colin asks me, his eyes glittering with mirth. Our instructor was a very friendly Russian, who preferred to instruct Colin how to move with his hands.

  “Who could forget the guy? He was hot.” I say the last word about two octaves higher than normal. Colin leans in and whispers in my ear. When I glance up, everyone is talking—everyone except Darcy. He’s staring straight at me, looking as though he wants to tear Colin apart.

  I smile and don’t look up again.

  CHAPTER 6

  A bright light hits my face, making me wince.

  “BETH! Wake up!”

  I groan, opening my eyes, disoriented. Jane is perched on the edge of my bed, shaking me awake.

  I was dreaming about Darcy and that kiss. “I’m dreaming about him now? Wonderful!” I pull the pillow over my face, horrified, remembering the way he made me feel—the way I wanted him to make me feel. Disgust coils in my stomach like an angry snake.

  Jane’s panic recedes for a moment. “Wait, you had a dream? About who?”

  “More like a nightmare,” I mumble from under the pillow.

  “What?”

  “Nothing,” I say peaking around the pillow at Jane, who looks radiant even at this ungodly hour “It’s not important. What time is it?”

  “7 a.m.”

  “Ugh, Jane, it’s too early!” I roll over, pulling the pillow fully back over my head. The instant I leave the bedroom, Mother will nag nonstop about last night—about the party, about my shenanigans with Colin, about insulting William Darcy. Thank God she doesn't know I kissed him on the balcony.

  I sigh, allowing the corners of my mouth to rise into a peaceful bliss. If I don’t think about what a horrible man he is, that kiss could be a magical memory for cold, lonely nights. As is the jealous look Darcy shot our direction when I walked off with Colin last night. Secretly gay BFFs rock!

  “Don’t go back to sleep. I need you to tell me what to do. I got a text from Cameron,” Jane says, biting her lip.

  “Really?” I'm impressed. Apparently, whatever William Darcy told Cameron last night, Cameron chose to ignore it. “That’s great Jane!”

  She pushes a strand of blonde hair behind her ear. Her face scrunches up as she says the next part. “He wants to know if I’m available to paint the mural in his new cottage.”

  “No way!” She nods. “So, then why do you look so worried? You’ll totally rock that mural.”

  “I don’t think I should take the job.”

  “Why not?”

  “While you were dancing with Colin, Mary texted me, warning me about William Darcy.” Jane twists her hands nervously. “She told me what he said about you.”

  “Jane, William Darcy is a condescending shit, and you don't need to worry about him. I do wonder how someone as sweet as Cameron Bingley would consider someone like him a friend? Maybe Cameron’s on some mission—you know, adopt an asshole, change a life.”

  Jane giggles.

  “I don’t care what Darcy thinks of me. Cameron is perfect for you, though, and I like him. I mean, what’s not to like? He’s attractive, considerate, and, most importantly, recognizes sensational dancing when he sees it.” I wink at her, and Jane’s face lights up.

  “Are you sure you’re okay with this?”

  “Of course. You like him don’t you?”

  “Yes, I do," she says, her eyes dancing. "Do you genuinely think he likes me, Beth?”

  “I watched him all evening, Jane. When he wasn't dancing with you, he still couldn't take his eyes off you. He wants you. He wants you bad!” I giggle as Jane smacks me in the face with a pillow before leaping from the bed.

  “I have so much to do. I have to draw out my plans and gather my supplies.” Jane suddenly pales at the thought of going alone. "If I panic, you’ll help me won’t you?"

  “Of course! That’s what sisters are for.”

  Jane bounces around the room grabbing clothes then hurries into the bathroom. I've never seen Jane so excited!

  * * *

  With Dad at work and Jane and Mother on their way to Mr. Bingley's cottage, the house is quiet. I pad into Mary’s room with a mug of hot coffee warming my palms. She’s face down, spread-eagle on the bed, her purple hair strewn over the pillow. She’s still wearing her black bra, a lace hipkini, and her shit-kicker boots. Very pretty. And funny. Damn, Mary.

  I give her a nudge. “Wake up, goober. I got you coffee.”

  She squirms and her angel wing tattoo peeks out from under the edge of her bra. Between the wings are the initials S.L.G, the initials of her best friend, Sofia Lynn Gonzales, who died of cancer a few years ago.

  Though a high school student at the t
ime, Sofia's death was national news. The Gonzales family lived in a trailer park near a field where Degatto Industries was drilling for natural gas. There were rumors the water was contaminated. Degatto Industries lawyers denied any wrongdoing on behalf of the company and convinced government officials that the sudden prevalence of cancer in the area was coincidental.

  Mary hasn’t been the same since Sofia's death.

  Mary can be rash at times, but her end goal is justice for Sofia. Every cause Mary takes on helps those who can't fight back on their own—like Sofia’s family. It’s not a bad way to lash out and deal with loss, but I still worry about her.

  I want her to find some peace before she implodes. If she can make a difference, even a little one, I think it’ll help.

  Mary groans, flipping to her back. Black lipstick is smeared all over her face and across her pillow. Dark smudges shadow the skin under her eyes, giving her already pale complexion a deathly aura. I shudder.

  “We’re the ninety-nine percent,” she mumbles.

  I chuckle. Even in her sleep, she’s in activist mode. “Mary, wake up. I need your help.”

  “Ink, not mink,” she breathes, hugging a pillow to her chest.

  “Mother just got back from Kaufman’s furs. You should see the coat she bought.”

  She jolts out of bed in a panic. “No way! She promised me she wouldn’t do that. I can’t believe that woman!”

  “Wait, Mary. Wait!” I laugh, catching her before she sprints out of the room. “I’m kidding. She took Jane shopping and then to Bingley’s cottage. Here, have some coffee.” I shove the steaming mug into her hands.

  “It’s too early for this. Remind me to beat you with a stick later.”

  “It’s three o’clock in the afternoon.”

  “Oh,” she takes a sip, making a face. “Man, my head’s pounding. I shouldn’t have taken on Colin’s bet.”

  “You were with Colin?”

  “Yeah, after the gala. I ran into him at that new club, Six Degrees. He was hooking up with some Latin hottie.”

  I’m impressed. Six Degrees is the newest and hottest club in the city—and almost impossible to get in.