Page 30 of The Wingman

She rolls her eyes. “Your ego is big enough, but yes, I’m in. When were you thinking?”

“Tomorrow.”

There’s a long pause between us where her brow wrinkles with adorable confusion, and I wonder if I’ve gone too far.

“Tomorrow’s Valentine’s Day.”

“Yeah.” My pulse beats in my ears like I’m running drills on the ice. “I know. You said you’ve never been out on Valentine’s Day.”

“I haven’t.”

“Well, I’m your wingman, and we’re practicing, so it’s my job to show you what it should be like.”

Her eyebrows go up, but she’s smiling. “Taking your role very seriously, I see.”

“The most serious.” I’m smiling, too. Around her, I can’t help it. “You deserve to know your worth.”

My words linger in the air, hovering dangerously close to the truth: that I’m disappointed and furious that Kit never spoiled her the way she deserves, and that I’m disappointed and furious that I never noticed.

Kit had her for eight years, and he didn’t take her outonce?

Fuck him for making her feel like that. Fuck him for not treating her well enough.

Maybe I feel a sick sense of territorial pride, too, at being the first guy to take Darcy out on Valentine’s Day. She’s a knockout. She’s smart and funny and beautiful and kind, and she wants to go out on Valentine’s Day.

Even if she doesn’t want a relationship right now and we’re just friends, I want Darcy to have whatever she wants. It’s as simple as that.

I fold my arms and lean back against the counter. “What do you say?”

The corner of her mouth curls up in a shy smile, and I want to drag my thumb over her bottom lip, just to see what would happen.

“I’d love to go out with you on Valentine’s Day.”

“For practice,” I add, so she doesn’t think I’m getting the wrong idea. “Because I’m your wingman.”

“Sure.” She nods hard. “Totally.”

“Good.”

“Yeah. Good.”

We stare at each other for a long moment, smiling, and something expands in my chest.

I don’t tell her I’ve never been out on Valentine’s Day, either. I’ve always been careful not to lead women on—no meeting each other’s families, no sleeping over at each other’s places, and definitely no going out on Valentine’s Day. That’s a serious relationship kind of thing.

Tomorrow, though, I’m going to show Darcy exactly how she should be treated.

Later, I lie on my back, head on my pillow, and stare at the ceiling, listening to the soft sounds from Darcy’s room as she gets ready for bed—padding back and forth to the bathroom to brush her teeth, the muffled slide of her dresser drawers, and, maybe I’m imagining it, but the rustle of sheets as she climbs into bed.

Tomorrow needs to be special and memorable. It needs to be the best fucking Valentine’s Day she’lleverhave.

Should I be doing this? Kit thinks I’m watching out for her, taking care of her and making sure she’s okay, not changing her life. From his periodic texts asking how she’s doing, I suspect he’s taking the breakup harder than she is.

And yet I reach for my phone and open my group chat with Miller, Streicher, and Volkov.

I need your help, I text.

CHAPTER 14

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