Page 36 of Stuck

“It’s a sandwich, Darcy. You can get me a drink next time we’re in the Wig and Gavel if you really must, but I think I can stretch to a fiver.”

“A drink it is.” He pointed to an empty table. “Will you join me?”

Yikes. I hadn’t anticipated that consequence of helping him. I hesitated as I tried to think of a polite excuse, but he didn’t give me time.

“Bingley wouldn’t be happy if he knew I’d let you eat at your desk. You need a proper lunch break.”

I sighed as remorse forced the long overdue confession to my lips. “Darcy, Bingley wouldn’t care. We’re not together.”

He didn’t look outraged, only chastened, and his voice was soft as he said quietly, “I beg your pardon. I forgot you’re trying to keep it quiet.”

“That’s not what I⁠—”

“But I’m not going to sit at the next table over and ignore you after you paid for my lunch.”

I wanted to scream. Not even the truth could get me out of this juvenile fakery, apparently. But I couldn’t bring myself to try being honest again. Darcy had only just stopped scowling; I didn’t want to see it replaced with disdain when I confessed to making up stories like a preschooler.

I acquiesced with a resigned smile. “Okay, sure.”

I slid into one of the seats, hoping he didn’t notice that I bashed my hip on the corner as I did. I styled it out, gritting my teeth and unwrapping my sandwich as though it hadn’t happened.

“You okay?” he asked, very much noticing.

I winced and nodded, wondering when, if ever, my interactions with this man would cease to be cripplingly cringeworthy. To stave off my embarrassment, I grinned and said, “That was kind of mortifying for you, huh?”

His slight frown disappeared, replaced with a miniscule quirk of his lips. “I’m not sure how I managed to forget my wallet and my phone.”

“You don’t have a smart watch you could have paid with?” He could surely afford one.

He shook his head and lifted his left wrist slightly to indicate the watch he wore. “I prefer this. It was my father’s, and his before that.”

“Very sophisticated! Does it still keep good time?”

“It’s been known to run late. I missed the flight to my cousin Anne’s wedding because of it.”

“Uh-oh! Did you miss the actual wedding?”

“Thankfully not, which was fortunate, as I was the one walking her down the aisle.” He broke into a full and unexpectedly boyish grin.

I didn’t ask why his uncle hadn’t performed the role—most likely the reason wasn’t a happy one, but it didn’t matter anyway. All that interested me was that Darcy had stepped up to take his place. “That was a really nice thing to do. You and your cousin must be close.”

“We are. She has a chronic illness and was in and out of hospital as a child. I spent a lot of time visiting her there and stayed weeks at a time at my aunt’s house.”

“You really don’t like being at home, do you?” I said it without thinking but regretted it immediately when his expression shuttered.

“I like being at my home in Derbyshire very much. It’s my flat in town that I don’t…” He pressed his lips together, his glower back in force. “It has some bad memories attached to it.”

I hadn’t meant to force an explanation out of him. Jane was right—I really did need to learn not to run my mouth. I smiled brightly in an attempt to lighten the mood. “I’m glad I invited you swimming, then.”

He smiled slightly—and gratefully, I thought. “It was fun. You’re a good swimmer.”

“I used to swim for the county when I was younger. What about you? Do you do any sports?”

He nodded, refusing to speak until he’d finished his mouthful—something I found unreasonably attractive after dating too many men who snuffled their way through meals with their mouths open.

“Rugby,” he said eventually.

I felt my cheeks heat. Of course he played rugby; thighs like his didn’t occur naturally in the wild. I concentrated on picking up the few bits of grated cheese that had dropped out of my sandwich onto the open wrapper, hoping to disguise my blush. I really wished I hadn’t agreed to lie to this beautiful man, because he was never going to look twice at me once he found out. Realistically, he probably wouldn’t have looked twice at someone like me anyway, but I’d rather he didn’t hate me.