Page 46 of The Wingman

I paste my own smile on. This is exactly what I want, so I don’t know why hearing that is so disappointing.

His phone chirps, and he pulls it out of his pocket. “Volkov’s downstairs.” He stands and puts the cup in the dishwasher. “Thanks for the coffee.”

“Of course.” The words come out too high and too chipper. “Have a great trip. I’ll be watching your games.”

He winks. “Bye, Darce. Stay out of trouble.”

It isn’t until the door closes and I hear the ping of the elevator arrive that I realize I’m really going to miss him over the next week.

CHAPTER 21

HAYDEN

“Nice t-shirt,”Miller comments as I load my bag into the overhead bin on the plane.

“Thanks.” This t-shirt is now my most prized possession. “Darcy gave it to me.”

His eyebrows go up with interest as I drop into my seat. “I take it Valentine’s Day went well?”

My exhale is heavy as I think about what a mess I made of things.

Miller chuckles. “That bad, huh? Alright, tell the expert what’s wrong so we can fix it.”

I let out a dry laugh of disbelief. “Expert? You’re joking, right? Hazel hated you until, like, last week.”

“Darcy didn’t like the flowers?”

“She liked them.” I fold my arms over my chest and stare out the window. “She liked the bracelet I got her, too.”

Miller whistles. “A bracelet, too?” His grin stretches ear to ear. “Now you’re thinking. What’s the problem?”

“We, uh,” I spare a glance at him, “cuddled.”

“Cuddled?” he repeats loudly, and the guys around us look over.

“Shut the fuck up,” I hiss. “Someone will hear.”

“My bad. Wouldn’t want someone to know you and Darcycuddledout of wedlock.”

“We were cuddling as friends. It didn’t mean anything.”

It sounds so fucking stupid out loud.

He stares at me for a long moment and bursts out laughing. “Cuddling as friends?”

“It’s a thing.”

It’s not a thing. I needed to touch her, and it blew up in my face when she made it clear that nothing would ever come of it. That my body turned her on but nothing was ever, ever going to happen between us.

It didn’t mean anything, she said. That’s me. A pretty face and a good fuck. Even Darcy, who knows me better than anyone, can see that.

And yet, for some reason, I tucked the framed photo of us into my bag to bring on my road trip. I like torturing myself, I guess.

Or maybe I’ll just miss her.

Miller looks over the seats. “Hey, Streicher, do you want to cuddle later? As friends?”

A few rows away, Streicher gives him a surly glare.

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