by Stacy Finz
“We’ve all got weird shit.”
“Really?” She sat in the chair and folded her arms over her chest. “What’s yours?”
No way was he telling her all his baggage so he stuck with what she already knew. “Britney.”
“Britney was a witch. You have nothing to be embarrassed about where she’s concerned.”
Yet he was. She’d duped him and made him look like a fool to his entire family. Not to mention that the debacle had confirmed their opinion of him as a reckless, irresponsible womanizer. “Let’s just say it was an unfortunate situation. The point is we all have them, so get over it.”
She let out a breath and gave him a long, hard look that made him hot again. It was just the moratorium, he told himself. It had been a long time since he’d been with a woman. His eyes darted to her breasts.
“You never did tell me what happened.” He nudged his head at the stain that had now faded to a discolored, brown-edged kidney shape on the floral fabric of her dress.
“I spilled coffee.” She deliberately turned sideways in the chair as if she knew he was checking out her rack. For a small woman … He stopped and forced himself to level his eyes at hers. Cornflower blue. And those fucking dimples.
“I guess we should start strategizing.” The truth was he’d never had to work for an account. He’d attracted clients to GA like wasps to a Sunday picnic without much effort. Certainly not because of any sales job he’d done. He just chatted people up, made the less experienced outdoor-sports enthusiasts feel comfortable and the hot dogs know Win would up their game.
“All right. But I have to help TJ with payroll right now.”
“We’ll come up with a game plan at the rodeo tonight.”
She let out an exasperated sigh. “You really think beer-swilling, cheering crowds are a conducive work environment?” Clearly, it was a rhetorical question.
“Yup, I work better in chaos. Jeez, lighten up, Francis.”
She looked at him as if he was one electroshock shy of the loony bin. Apparently, she didn’t know the movie Stripes, his and his brothers’ favorite.
“It’s Darcy,” she said.
“Miss Wallace if you’re nasty.” Win winked and when nothing registered in that sweet-as-apple-pie face of hers, he blew out a long breath. “Don’t tell me you don’t know who Janet Jackson is, either?”
She shook her head, got up, and started to leave.
“Don’t forget to wear your shit kickers,” he called to her back.
*
Darcy didn’t have a pair of cowboy boots; she couldn’t get the shaft over her calves. But at six-thirty, Win showed up, wearing a pair of brown suede ones with pointy toes, faded Levis that fit him better than any jeans she owned fit her, and a straw cowboy hat that said HURLEY across the front. He looked more surfer than wrangler with his shaggy locks and golden tan. Actually, he looked like a model in a Guess jeans ad. All he needed was Claudia Schiffer and a motorcycle.
It was a little sickening.
He’d brought Hilde a bouquet of flowers that looked like something he’d picked up outside a gas station. But her grandmother cooed over the carnations like they were the most exotic posies known to mankind. Then she fixed him a sandwich and a glass of milk. He sat at the breakfast bar wolfing down the food, flirting with Nana until she blushed. The man was a serious ho. How had Darcy even managed to repel the sluttiest guy in Glory Junction? It didn’t say much for her skills at seduction.
“You ready to go?” she asked impatiently.
“What’s your hurry, you got a date with a bull?”
“The only part of the rodeo I like is when the flag girls ride out on horseback for the national anthem and we’re going to miss it.”
“Yeah, I like that part too.” He waggled his brows and she considered smacking him upside the head, except her grandmother wouldn’t like it. “Let’s go, then.”
He took his dishes to the sink, which surprised her. After seeing his studio apartment the other night, she’d gotten the impression that he didn’t know what a sink was. On the occasions she’d fed his cat it had taken all her willpower not to clean the place.
They got in his Jeep and made the thirty-five-minute trip to Reno with his radio blaring awful rap music, him drumming the steering wheel, singing at the top of his lungs. A couple of times when they’d stopped at signal lights a car would draw up alongside them and the female driver or passenger would gape at Win like he was a movie star. It was nauseating.
He found a parking spot in the VIP section of a dusty dirt lot that had been marked with chalk lines. A bunch of kids, wearing neon vests, directed traffic. The minute she got out of the Jeep, the smell of manure and hay hit her. Win grabbed a blanket from the back. Although it was close to eighty degrees out, it got cool in the desert at night.
He looked at his watch. “Shit, if we don’t hurry we’ll miss the mutton busting.”
She snorted. As far as she was concerned mutton busting was sanctioned child abuse. Win guided her across the uneven lot, through the rodeo grounds to their box seats. Oh goody, they were right up front.
Win shielded his eyes and checked out the unobstructed view of the bucking chutes. “These are righteous. You want a beer, some funnel cake?”
She wondered if that last request was a gibe about her weight. “I’m good.”
“Are you? You seemed a little sex-starved to me the other night.” His lips quirked.
She elbowed him in the ribs. “You promised not to bring that up again.”
“No, I didn’t. I promised not to tell anyone, which I haven’t.”
“Wow, such a gentleman. Someone ought to give you a Nobel Prize.”
He made a clicking noise with his tongue and made a pair of guns with his fingers. “That’s me, gentleman extraordinaire. I’m getting a beer. You sure you don’t want one?”
“I’m good,” she said, though she wouldn’t mind funnel cake.
He must’ve read her mind because he returned with not only the funnel cake but nachos and a tri-tip sandwich. A beer for him and a soda for her. “I’ll start my diet tomorrow,” he said, and put the food between them to share.
He was sort of a health nut, she’d noticed, living on green smoothies, acai bowls, and trail mix. It was nice to know that even he had moments of weakness. When she didn’t make a move to eat any of his offerings, he fed her a mouthful of funnel cake.
“Come on, Darce, live a little.”
“So good,” she said in between bites. Deep-fried stuff was her soft spot, though she had a healthy appetite for anything sweet. And fattening. And she sort of liked the idea of him feeding her, even though they were probably making spectacles of themselves.
Win stuffed a few nacho chips in his mouth and washed them down with beer and she was loath to admit that she liked watching him eat. There was something unabashedly masculine about it.
“Shit,” she said as a flash of something familiar crossed her periphery vision, then made his way across an adjacent box to get to her.
“Darcy, is that you?” Lewis stood over her in a pair of pressed jeans, a pearl-snap shirt that looked straight off the rack, and a string tie. Who wore a string tie to the rodeo, for Chrissake? He took in their array of junk food and sneered.
“Hi, Lewis. What brings you here?” The dust and animals had to be wreaking havoc on his asthma.
He pointed across the arena at one of the bucking chutes that held a large banner with the Snyder Real Estate logo on it. “I’m a sponsor,” Lewis said proudly, and suddenly seemed to notice Win.
Win rose, stuck out his hand, and introduced himself, only to be interrupted by the opening chords of “God Bless the USA.” Darcy hoped it would be Lewis’s cue to leave but he stood there, looking ridiculous in his Woody from Toy Story getup.
When the song was over Lewis turned his attention back to Darcy. “Why haven’t you returned my calls and messages?”
“Things have been busy at work.”
Win l
ooked from Darcy to Lewis, clearly curious. There was a long, awkward pause and the announcer heralded that the bronco-bucking event was about to start. Darcy craned her neck past Lewis’s shoulder at the ring, feigning huge interest in the hopes he would take a hint and skedaddle.
He didn’t.
“How do you two know each other?” Lewis waved his hand between Win and Darcy.
Darcy started to say they worked together but Win cut her off at the pass.
“We’re engaged,” he said, and she watched Lewis jerk his head so fast that she thought it would snap off. Win draped his arm over her shoulder. “Yep, we’re living the dream.”
She tried to kick him in the shin but he inched his leg away. Win had good reflexes, she’d give him that.
“You didn’t tell me you were engaged.” Lewis actually looked hurt, which made Darcy want to tell him the truth, though being Win’s fiancée, even if it was only for a few seconds, made her feel vindicated for all the nights she’d slept alone.
“It just happened,” Win said. “Saturday night she surprised me by coming over in the middle of the night and—”
This time she managed to land the toe of her tennis shoe in the middle of Win’s calf. His boot had probably protected him from the brunt of it but he got the message loud and clear.
He winked at Lewis and said, “Well, you know how it is.”
No, Lewis didn’t. He was as dense as he was frigid.
“When’s the wedding?” he asked, his expression glum.
“Uh …” Darcy stammered, and Win deftly came to the rescue.
“Winter,” he said. “A destination ski wedding for two hundred in St. Anton, Austria.” Whoa, scary how that had just slipped off his tongue. Who knew Win Garner was such an accomplished BSer? Either that or he’d given a great deal of thought to his dream wedding. Doubtful.
“But you don’t ski,” Lewis said pointedly to Darcy, who felt her cheeks heat. The farce was getting out of control and it would be Darcy who wound up with egg on her face. No one like Win married someone like Darcy. Of all people, Lewis had to know that, had to know he was being played by a guy who played for a living.
“I gave her lessons last winter,” Win said, and Darcy shot him a death glare. Enough was enough.
“Huh.” Lewis tilted his head. “Coordination has never been one of Darcy’s strong points, has it, Snookums?”
Win’s brows shot up and his lips curved in the corners as if to say, Snookums? Really?
“Well, it’s been great seeing you again, Lewis. But they’re getting ready for calf roping and it’s Win’s favorite event. Isn’t it, hot buns?”
Win choked on his own laughter. “Yep. Love me some calf roping.”
Lewis wasn’t the best at reading social cues but even he realized she’d just told him to get lost. In the nicest way possible, of course. But if he stuck around much longer, Win was liable to tell him more outrageous lies that would wind up humiliating Darcy in the long run.
“I’ll be on my way, then.” Lewis stood there for a beat. “You’ll still help me transfer my records to that new software program, right?”
She’d promised, despite being bogusly engaged to another man. “Of course, Lewis. I’ll call you as soon as my workload at Garner Adventure lightens up.” He wouldn’t wait. Even though it had been more than a year since their split-up, Lewis hadn’t been able to let go. At least not of her managerial skills.
Win watched Lewis climb the bleachers to his own seat, then turned to her. “How do you know Howdy Doody?”
“We were married for two years,” she said.
Chapter Four
“How come you got divorced?” Win asked on the ride home. It had taken the rest of the rodeo for the fact that she’d been married to sink in. Shy, quiet, horny little Darcy. He never would’ve guessed it. Not in a million years. Then again, he didn’t know much about her personal life. All their conversations had either been work-related or about him.
“It didn’t work out,” was all she said, signaling that it was none of his business.
Bullshit! If they were going to be engaged he deserved to know.
“Why not?” he asked.
“It just didn’t and I’d appreciate it if we didn’t talk about it anymore.”
“That doesn’t seem fair, since I told you about Britney. Jeez, Darce, learn to share.” He got into the left lane so he could pass the slowpoke doing forty-five in a seventy-mile-an-hour zone.
“Britney was just another one of your side pieces. Lewis was my husband.” She grabbed the oh-shit handle on the roof of his Jeep. “Could you please slow down. This isn’t the Indy 500.”
He switched back to the slow lane. At least he was in front of Snail Car. “Britney was almost the mother of my child.” She’d been pregnant but as it turned out the father was some dude named Cortland. Britney had waited to give him that little piece of information until after Win had put the Rock of Gibraltar on her finger. “We were engaged.”
“For fifteen minutes, which I suppose is fourteen minutes longer than our engagement.” She grabbed the bar again. “Watch out for the guy on the left, he’s weaving like he’s drunk.”
“Stop side-seat driving. I’ve got this.” He passed the weaver and took the turnoff for Glory Junction. “We were engaged for nearly a month.” The longest month of his life.
“Why’d you tell Lewis we were getting married? For all you knew he was a guy I wanted to date.”
He slid her a sideways glance. “That dweeb?” Lewis’s jeans actually looked pressed, like he’d put a crease down the middle. And that string tie, WTF?
“Win, I was married to that dweeb.”
“We both know you can do better.”
She sneered. “Like you?”
“Don’t start that again.” He got into the slow lane to let some asshole in a Jaguar pass. “You know, Darcy, you used to be sweet.” When she’d first started working at GA she was afraid of her own shadow; now she had a smart mouth and a bad attitude. And truth be told he kind of liked it. “For the first time in my life, I’m trying to take responsibility, be a better person. You could be more supportive, you know. So what does Little Lord Fauntleroy do for a living?”
“Don’t call him that. He owns a very successful real estate company in Reno. They sell ranchettes, farms, and large parcels.”
He turned to look at her and she admonished him to watch the road. “Why, is it doing tricks? Did you used to work at the real estate agency when you lived in Reno?”
“I was Lewis’s assistant,” she said, and continued to squeeze the grab handle as if he was going to veer off the mountainous road and kill them both.
“You didn’t want to stay on after you two broke up?” He was interested. Darcy had always seemed so … staid. This new side of her intrigued him.
“I moved here, so how could I?” Reno was only a thirty-minute drive. Twenty if you drove it like he did.
“Why’d you leave Reno?”
“Who are you, Inspector Clouseau?” she said, and glanced at his speedometer. “My grandmother needed me.”
Hilde appeared pretty spry to him. She’d lived in that cottage alone since Win was a kid. “If you’re not working for Lewis anymore how come you’re helping him transfer records?” He didn’t know what that entailed but Darcy already had a full-time job.
“Because I said I would.” The question appeared to irritate her.
Win got the impression the entire conversation did. Darcy looked cute when she was irritated so he kept up his rapid-fire questioning until they were parked in front of Hilde’s house.
“You want to grab dinner at Old Glory?” he asked, not quite ready to end the evening, even if it was a school night. He looked at the clock on his console. Shit, it was past eleven.
“We just stuffed our faces—and clogged our arteries—with fake cheese and grease. You’re still hungry?”
“I just thought we could talk about the FlashTag account. We never got around to it a
t the rodeo.”
“Is Old Glory even still open?” She gazed out the window at Hilde’s house. There were a few lights on, besides the one on the porch. “My grandmother’s up. I better go inside.”
“All right,” he said. It was late and he had a white-water rafting tour at ten. “Thanks for going with me.”
“Thanks for taking me. It was … fun.”
Did it kill her to have to say that? In the past, he’d gotten very few complaints from women about his company. Right off the top of his head, he could think of quite a few women who would’ve been happy to spend the evening with him at the rodeo, or anywhere for that matter. And after meeting Lewis, Win had to think he was a better date.
“Yep,” he said, and helped her out of the passenger seat only because her Lilliputian legs might not find the ground on their own. And since he was already out of the Jeep he walked her to the door. “I’d kiss you good night, but I’d hate to get you all hot and bothered and have you break into my apartment again.”
She threw it right back at him. “As long as we’re engaged I wouldn’t want you to break your vow of chastity. It’s good that you’re saving yourself for our wedding night.”
Unassuming Darcy had become a real smartass.
“See you tomorrow.” He jogged down the cobblestone walkway and got back in his Jeep.
The neighborhood cat was on his front porch when he got home so he let it in the house and gave it a bowl of milk. The thing was probably full of fleas. He put his phone on the charger stand and noticed he had a few missed calls and checked his voice mail to see if anyone had left a message.
The first one was from Deb. She and TJ were having a family dinner at their house on Wednesday and wanted to know if Win could come. The next three were from women who all held various levels of interest in hooking up with him. He quickly erased their messages and got ready for bed.
