Written in the Stars(10)

Darcy bit her lip and stared hard at the jar of peanut butter on the coffee table as she considered the question, and her answer, carefully.

Scary thing was, they had hit it off. Not at first with Elle’s tardiness, but there’d been a spark. For a moment. Until their many differences—and different desires—had become apparent. “Elle’s not like anyone I’ve ever met. That’s for sure.”

Brendon laughed, drawing her focus back to his face. He grinned like it was the best news he’d heard all day, and for a moment her stomach panged, guilt corroding her insides. “You’re seriously smitten, aren’t you?”

“No, I’m—” Denial was instinctive, but she was supposed to be selling it. “We’re obviously total opposites, but there’s . . . something there. Potential.”

“And here I thought with you being home early and already in pajamas that your date hadn’t gone well.” Brendon’s crooked grin was sheepish, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

“Well, you know what happens when you assume.” Darcy smiled, softening the gibe.

Brendon shrugged as if to concede the point and hunched forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Tell me about it. Tonight.”

To Brendon, every moment was a meet-cute waiting to happen, each first date he went on captured in his memory in case he found the one and needed to tell his future children about the night their mom and dad met.

She needed to sell it. Hard. Lucky for her, personality clashes and restaurant disasters were the stuff meet-cutes were made of.

“It’s actually a funny story.”

Brendon shook his head. “Don’t leave me in suspense. I’m dying over here.”

“Settle down.” If her pause was overly long, it was only because she was gathering her thoughts. And okay, fine, she was milking it, but only a little. “I won’t lie—at first, we got off on the wrong foot. Elle was late and you know I’m a stickler for punctuality.”

He rolled his eyes.

“She offered to buy me a drink and she told me about her job, which she’s extremely enthusiastic about. Even though I don’t believe in astrology, that sort of passion is attractive.”

Brendon waggled his brows.

“Stop.” She laughed.

“Sorry.” Brendon grinned. “Didn’t mean to interrupt. Keep going.”

“Okay, let’s see . . . we had wine.” She smirked, not because what had happened was funny but because she couldn’t wait for Brendon’s reaction. “Or we would have, had she not spilled it all over me.”

His eyes widened. “Get out.”

“Eh.” With a shrug, Darcy waved it off. “I’m sure my dry cleaner can work a miracle on the stain.”

Fingers crossed.

“Details, Darce. Come on. Tell me about the sparks.” Brendon gestured for her to keep talking with an impatient wave of his hand.

“She said I have pretty eyes.” Darcy hadn’t meant to whisper, but it wound up being a more honest confession than she’d intended.

Her eyes were brown. Nothing was wrong with them, but no one ever complimented her eyes. They went for the obvious attributes—her hair, her legs, her breasts if they were being bold. But her eyes?

Ridiculous. If anyone had nice eyes it was Elle. Big and blue, so blue it was like staring off into the Puget Sound at midnight on a full moon.

“You’re blushing.”

She was not. Except, when she brought her hands to her cheeks, her face was hot, feverish beneath her fingertips. She cleared her throat. No, there’d be no more getting lost in Elle’s eyes. Capsizing, more like.

“I don’t like to kiss and tell.”

Brendon’s eyes went huge and round, his jaw dropping and it was only then she realized what she’d said, how it could be construed, misconstrued. Only . . . wasn’t that the point? Make him believe there’d been sparks, enough chemistry to put him off her trail?

There had been sparks. Just none that she had any intention of acting on. Sparks either fizzled, or they caught fire and burned you. Badly. No, thank you.

Obfuscation wasn’t quite the same as lying. Brendon could believe what he wanted. Technically she’d only embellished.

“When are you seeing her again?”

“I’m really busy this week.” Brendon’s face fell, so she hurried to add, “But I’m going to text her. We’ll play it by ear.”

Not that she enjoyed stretching the truth, especially not to Brendon, but it was sort of brilliant. Play it by ear, text when she could. If he asked, she’d make up an excuse about being busy, push it off, buy herself a little more time. She might even text Elle for real, just a quick thank-you for picking up the tab. That would be the polite thing to do, especially since she hadn’t had the chance to thank her at the restaurant. By the time she’d made it back from the restroom, Elle had already left. A fact that should not have stung, and yet, for some inexplicable reason, had. Damp silk tickling the skin of her stomach, Darcy had frozen in front of the empty table. The sight of Elle’s pink lip print on her empty wineglass but no Elle had felt like pressing on a bruise Darcy hadn’t realized was there until she agitated it. Unsettled, Darcy had booked it out of the restaurant, wanting to put as much distance between herself and that feeling as possible.