Page 56 of The Wingman

Darcy gives me an indulgent smile. “Don’t go easy on me. I’m trying to learn. You must have some feedback.”

I rest my arm along the top of the love seat we’re sitting on. I’m not touching her, but my body language is clear.

Mine.

“You’re doing great.” When I look down into her eyes, all the jealous, territorial feelings melt away, and it’s just me and her. The way it should be. “I’m having a really fun time with you.”

We should have fucking stayed home, though. I don’t know why I opened my big mouth and told her about the cast party tonight.

Because she loves the show, I remind myself. Becauseshe’shaving fun. Because she’s figuring out what she wants, and going out and making new memories is an important part of that.

“So if this was a real date and it was going really well, what would you do next?”

“What do you mean?”

“What’s your next move? Do you ask her out on a second date? Do you drop hints to get her to come home with you?” Her mouth quirks up, and I want to kiss it. “Show me your moves.”

“I’d make up an excuse to kiss you.”

Oh, shit. I really did just say that.

Her lips part, surprise rising in her eyes. “Like what?”

My pulse picks up, and I vaguely remember vowing not to do shit like this, buthe’sover there, staring at her, andshe’sright beside me, looking so cute and pretty and sweet, and the smart part of my brain has taken a back seat.

“Like… Patrick Grant keeps staring at you and I don’t want him to think he actually has a chance.”

Her breath catches and her eyes dart to the bar, where Grant is indeed watching her while listening to someone else talk. “He doesn’t think that.”

“He does.”

She gestures at herself. “Me?” She widens her eyes and glances over at him. “Him? Just bizarre.”

Jesus fuck, she has no idea what she looks like or how funny and lovely she is. No fucking clue.

“Not that bizarre, Darce.” I work my jaw, shifting so I’m facing her on the seat. “It would be the humane thing to do, though.”

“What, kiss?”

“Yeah.” I swallow, watching her expression for any sign of discomfort or hesitation. “You don’t want to lead him on.”

Kissing Darcy would slam the door of possibility closed on Patrick Grant, send a loud and clear message.

And more than anything, I really, really fucking want to. I’ve wanted to kiss her for years. My knee bounces in anticipation as I study her face.

“Right.” She blows out a long breath, nodding. “I don’twant to lead him on. You know all about that.” She pulls her bottom lip between her teeth as a crease forms between her eyebrows. “It’s probably good to practice, too.”

I raise an eyebrow at her in question.

“Kit isn’t the only guy I’ve ever kissed,” she explains. “I kissed a guy in high school, but we were sixteen and it was outside and rushed and kind of…” She mashes her palms together, and I huff a surprised laugh. “Mushy?” she says, laughing and wincing.

“Yikes.” I grin. “You’re a mushy kisser?”

“No,” she sputters, laughing harder. “I don’t think so. Kit never had any complaints.”

Another stab of jealousy hits me in the gut.

“I’m happy to help you,” I say, staring at her mouth.

---