Page 54 of The Wingman

I don’t like him, and I don’t like the way he’s looking at Darcy.

“You’re not on the show, right?” He studies her with interest and arrogant confidence, like he knows he has this in the bag. “I would have remembered you.”

“No,” she laughs. “I’m not an actor.”

Grant’s eyes widen like he can’t believe it, and I turn away, shaking my head. This fucking guy. He probably uses this line once a week.

“Not an actor?” he repeats, like it’s the most shocking thing he’s ever heard. “Well, your beauty is wasted.”

“No, it isn’t,” I cut in with an edge to my voice.

She just laughs him off, though. “I’m an actuary.”

“Brilliant.” Every single overly whitened tooth is visible. “I love birds.”

Darcy bites back a smile, and I drag in a calming breath, studying her reaction. She doesn’t actually think his ignorance is cute, right? It’s funny whenIjoke that she works with birds. With this guy, it’s just annoying.

“What do you suggest I do on my evenings off in Vancouver, darling Darcy?” Grant asks, and my hand clenches at my side.

Protective feelings race through me, and I grit my teeth, because I can see exactly where this is going.

“Go see a hockey game.” She gives me a private smile that makes me want to grab her hand.

“Fantastic. I love ice hockey.”

“Really?” She lights up. “You’re a hockey fan?”

“Huge. The biggest.” He glances at me with a tight smile, likeI’mintruding ontheirdate or something. “And who’s this strapping young fellow?”

Hockey fan, my ass. I give him a bold, friendly smile, gritting my teeth the entire time. “Hayden Owens.”

We shake hands. I put a little extra grip into it, and he winces.

“Hayden’s on the Vancouver Storm,” Darcy tells him.

“Oh, yes.” Grant nods and rubs his chin like he’s Gandalf. “Thought I recognized you.”

“I’m sure you did.” I give him a tight smile, holding his gaze with challenge.

I don’t like this guy. Not one fucking bit. I don’t like the way he looks at Darcy, I don’t like the way she laughs at hisjokes, and I don’t like how he moves his arm to rest on the bar behind her. His body language is clear: he’s interested.

My heart jumps into my throat as he opens his mouth.

He’s going to ask her out.

On instinct, I clutch her hand. “We’re going to grab another drink,” I call over my shoulder, hauling Darcy away. “Nice chatting with you, Peter.”

He blinks at us in surprise, but I throw my arm around her, leading her to the bar upstairs.

“We could have ordered from the bar we were at,” Darcy says as I pull her up the stairs.

“This one’s quieter.”

We reach the bar, and I order another round, keeping a hand on Darcy at all times. I shouldn’t be touching her like this, but my protective instincts are in overdrive.

“He’s better-looking in real life,” she comments as we get our drinks. “I think they lighten his hair for the show. Also, you called him Peter. Did you realize that?”

“He’s not that good-looking,” I mutter. “It’s dark in here. Makes everyone look hotter.”

---