Page 17 of Big Stick Energy
Dread rolls through me. “Oh no. What did I saynow?”
DeLuca looks thoughtful. “It was a little weird, actually. She was working late at the bar, if you can believe that…”
I can, though. Now that he mentions it, I recall spotting Darcy in a corner of the lobby bar, hunched over her laptop, probably trying to reorganize her boss’s travel plans now that his summer vacation just got extended by ten days.
When I’d lurched over there, she’d looked up at me with those big turquoise eyes, all concern. But then…
I let out another groan. “Let me guess—I was trying to explain myself to her, but I was too drunk to do it.”
“Yup,” Merritt says, taking a deep pull of his coffee. “But after she excused herself, you became more articulate. You told the whole bar how pretty Darcy is. And how you can’t tell if she likes you or not. You seemed really confused.”
“Christ.” I roll over and bury my face in the pillow.
“Didn’t know you had a thing for Darcy,” Merritt adds with a chuckle. “You should date her instead of that harpy you keep bringing home.”
“No chance,” I grumble into the pillow. “I was such a dick to her yesterday.”
Honestly, my little episode outside the arena is more embarrassing than anything else that happened yesterday. It’s worse than getting sloppy drunk or even taking a stupid penalty.
“What was so bad that you were trying to apologize?” DeLuca asks.
“I…”Ugh.“I was having a rough moment yesterday before the game, and I took it out on her.”
“On Darcy?” Merritt yelps. “Bummer. I always thought she might have a thing for you. She gets, like, tongue-tied when you talk to her.”
I lift my eyes and find DeLuca smiling at me. He winks, buthe doesn’t say anything. He promised me he wouldn’t tell anyone else about Darcy’s rogue text message.
“Who’d want a piece of this?” I point out. “She could do better.”
“That’s the spirit.” DeLuca slaps me on the ass. “Pull yourself together, Captain. The bus for the airport leaves in ninety minutes. Get up. Go back to your own room and shower. Eat a bagel, drink some coffee.”
“Everything looks better after breakfast,” Merritt says.
Does it, though? “How comeyou’reso cheery? We lost the fucking game.”
“You could look at it that way,” Merritt says. “Or you could feel a little gratitude that we made it to the third round, which is better than last year. And now we get a vacation. I’m hoping to take my girl to the beach.’’
“And I’m hoping to tag along,” DeLuca says. “We might rent a house, if we can find one. Drown our sorrows at the beach. You should come.”
“He has to go to some wedding shower,” Merritt says. “He ranted about that, too.”
The fucking wedding.“I hate my life.”
“Last night was brutal,” DeLuca agrees. “That’s why you need coffee and a shower. Things might look better then.”
I heave myself out of the bed to find out if he’s right.
He is. Sort of. I still have a pounding headache, but a shower and some clean clothes help. At least I look human.
Then I head for the lobby, where I purchase a black coffee for me and a double cappuccino with skim milk for Darcy. It won’tbe hard to find her—on road trips, she’s never far from the lobby. Her responsibilities seem to include anticipating anything that could go wrong and then fixing it before it does.
True to form, I find Darcy standing beside a potted fern near the front entrance to the hotel. She’s wearing a dress in Legends blue that makes her legs look endless, and she’s frowning at her phone.
Don’t look at her legs, asshole.I yank my chin upward. “Morning, Darcy. Could I have a minute of your time?”
Chapter 8
That’s My Coffee Order
