100 Proof Stud (The Darcy Walker Series) (35 page)

I gazed into his silver eyes, whispering, “You’re not going to say anything?”

Ben’s eyes tendered. “I wasn’t sure you’d finished.” I hadn’t finished. I simply couldn’t find the words seven years later. My life was splashed with humor and heartache. Most days the humor won out; today the heartache weighed heavily.

“
Sh
-she,” I stammered. “
Sh
-she’s just…”

A sigh punctuated my words as he tenderly brushed both thumbs across my cheeks, removing the tears. “Why don’t you make it your goal to give me two sentences before the school year’s out?” Trust me, that’s one sleeping dog it was best to let lie. I nodded anyway. “That’s a start. Please, don’t cry.”

Ben pulled me into a familiar hug. Like a magnet drawing us upward, both our eyes super-glued to the mistletoe overhead. The sound system took that moment to gently pipe in a slow tune that screamed baby-making music.

“That’s a sign from Heaven if I ever heard one,” he murmured lowly. With heavy-lidded eyes, he left one hand at my waist, the other wrapped loosely around my shoulders. Slowly, slowly he inched toward my lips. My hands braced against his chest, but they couldn’t decide whether to push him off or pull him closer. The indecisiveness made my heart pound, but all of a sudden the indecision flipped into a smoldering desire.

I glanced up to the mistletoe and closed my eyes.

Oh, yeah…yeah…this is what I needed.

I heard a throat clear; heck, the man in Bumfudge, Egypt heard a throat clear. It belonged to someone extremely unhappy who’d already devised a way to remove the source of his unhappiness.

I braced.

Getting up on my tiptoes, a tentative look over Ben’s right shoulder showed none other than—you guessed it—Dylan-possible fastard-Taylor.

Dylan stared at us with eyes showing more white than amber. He wore his favorite jeans, gray and black Nike sneakers, and a black down North Face ski jacket. Black gloves hugged his hands and a toboggan topped his head. In his left hand was a t-shirt that said, “No Coffee, No Workee” on it.
He’d bought it for me
, I sighed. I’d seen it when we bolted out of the mall because of the unexpected snowstorm. Of course, he’d remember.

My vocal chords went AWOL.

He murmured, “Are you sure you want to be under that mistletoe, sweetheart?” I’m pretty sure I nodded no, but my lips might’ve been saying yes. I squirmed against Ben and then slid down his body.

Ben tightened his arms, whispering into my face, “Boyfriend?” he said, in no way intimidated.

“
Best
friend
,” I whispered.

“
Possessive
best friend,” Dylan bellowed. “Come over here, Darcy, unless you want a kiss to be on someone else’s terms and not your own.” I straightened my rumpled clothes, obediently scuffling over. It was a conditioned response. Call me Pavlov’s dog. He said fetch; I went for the bone.

Ben folded his arms over his chest, that cocky grin growing by leaps and bounds. “I’m fairly confident Darcy and I were on the same page. Plus Darcy’s sort of fascinatingly bizarre. For someone as picky as me, she’s definitely a keeper.”

Dylan placed the t-shirt on a nearby table and slowly slid out of his jacket, the wheels in his brain cranking like a steam engine. Laying his jacket next to the shirt, he slowly removed his gloves and toboggan. He seemed casual, laid-back. The moment his eyes met Ben’s, however, he sucked the energy out of the room, replacing it with heat and I’m-going-to-have-your-head.

He extended a hand to Ben. “Dylan Taylor,” he said all formally.

Ben stood up straighter. “Ben Ryan,” he said, shaking just as ceremoniously. “The new kid in town who’s in love with your
best
,” he emphasized, “
friend
. Darcy and I’ve gotten rather close, and I’m disappointed to say you interrupted something that’s been coming for quite some time.”

Dylan was a hair-trigger away from going gonzo. Ben? He just might be stupid.

Dylan bent his arm back, shoving me behind his body. I knew Dylan; his attempt at being mannerly went out the door when Ben pulled on his ponkey. “You’re the guy who hit Darcy with your car,” he said accusingly. A muscle ticked in Ben’s jaw, but he didn’t comment. “Let me make something clear here, Ryan. I’m not a fan of yours for various reasons, but if you ever try to force something on Darcy she clearly isn’t ready for, then you’ll have to answer to me. And when I say
answer to me
,” he said snidely, “it won’t necessarily be with words.”

Translation? Get out of my lane, fastard.

Ben laughed with a loud sarcasm. “Well, guess what? There’s a new sheriff in town.”

“You don’t say,” Dylan said slowly. “I thought
I
was the sheriff.”

“Let me see your badge,” Ben taunted.

A dramatic, smirky pause…and then Dylan said naughtily, “Not in front of Darcy.”

Ben looked pensive and perplexed at the same time, and then Dylan’s innuendo slowly bled into his eyes. Fire ignited the silver, and I could tell he bit the shiz out of his tongue. My guess was he wasn’t used to the subject of your manhood being an opener. Heck, who was? But this was vintage Dylan—insinuating he was blessed with more below the belt than Ben. Dylan liked to have the last word, sometimes at someone else’s expense. Cocky, but in all fairness, Ben might be just as cocky…or cockier.

The air crackled with testosterone as they stood stoically, sizing one another up. Dylan had two inches and about forty pounds on Ben, but Ben’s personality was so big it didn’t seem to matter. They were total opposites: jet-black hair versus a coppery brown; bulging muscles versus long and lean. Dylan’s face was classically handsome in its symmetry—the type sculptors mimicked when they thought of the gods. Ben’s was more angular and rugged—the kind in cologne commercials where you thought about shacking up in the woods. What they both had in common were egos the size of the hole in the ozone and a ridiculous fascination with me.

Ben spoke first. “Let me start again,” he said. “I really like Darcy, and we were having a private conversation where she confided she needed to purge some things from her life. I actually have some ideas on what she could start with.”

It was settled…Ben was definitely stupid.

Dylan cut him off, laughing arrogantly. “Private conversation?” he mocked. “Well, I’m always going to know a little bit more than you do, Ryan, and by the way, why don’t you leave, or I’ll purge
you
out of existence.”

I put my hands on Dylan’s waist. “Play nice, D.” He wouldn’t budge. “D,” I whispered, tugging his white sweatshirt, “he’s a five-time, MMA world champion. Maybe you shouldn’t provoke him.”

Dylan totally ignored me, like his ego said it was a moot point.

“You look like a one trick pony to me,” Ben taunted.

Dylan’s voice dropped to a growl. “My one trick will drop you to the mat so fast you won’t even have a chance to tap out. Then I’ll get up and have dinner while you’re crying for your mommy.”

Ben egged him on, either overly confident or overly dumb. I gave him a mean look because the way he provoked Dylan had begun to bother me. “No beating around the bush with you, eh?” Ben grinned.

“I’m not big on diplomacy,” Dylan replied.

“A lot of senseless wars start that way.”

“Sometimes people just need their asses kicked.”

“You don’t like having your power usurped?”

Dylan shrugged. “I’m still waiting for it to happen, and you haven’t made a move yet.” If the theory of body language is true, then Dylan’s message was loud and clear. No poaching allowed. I’d seen many a movie where love triangles like this left someone hurt—why did I think that someone would ultimately be
me
? But I knew Dylan, and I sort of knew Ben. Dylan wouldn’t quit until the current threat was neutralized. I had a feeling the competitive persona of Ben behaved the same way. Heck, he claimed he had the trophies to prove it.

Colliding thoughts consumed my brain. Dylan would always be my best friend. No question. But he claimed he wanted to be a couple, and I couldn’t deny the physical attraction any more than I needed air to breathe. Ben likewise had asked me out for a legitimate date. You know, where you dress up nice, boy picks you up, and then you go somewhere in public declaring you’re a couple—at least for the night. Ben pursued me.
Me
, I emphasized in my head when I knew he could pretty much have whomever he wanted. Enter Brynn Hathaway. Enter Collin Lockhart’s words. And something came over me. Something daring, brave, or utterly out-of-my-mind mad. I grabbed Dylan’s gaze and lyingly declared, “Ben is my science experiment, Dylan. We’re going on a date this weekend.”

It took awhile for those words to register and for Dylan to call up the conversation that hopefully didn’t forever ruin our friendship. His chin raised a fraction, and he ran his hand tenderly down my jaw. His eyes softened. He was going to cry; I knew it, and then I’d be a blubbering fool. Instead, he looked Ben square in the face, threw his head back, and burst into laughter.

A life is not important except in the impact it has on other lives.

—Jackie Robinson

20. Road Rage

D
ylan was smooth, polished, and
seductively alluring; Ben was brusque, edgy, and had no couth whatsoever. That was too many adjectives to think about tonight. Besides, Dylan acted as if a dirty bomb had been strapped to his privates, and I needed to steer clear. I found it confusing Ben had gotten so close to me, but he wasn’t the person I thought about when I tracked on the mistletoe. No, my mind had shifted to Dylan…then I thought of Brynn…then I thought of Dylan and Brynn and a set of twins.

I deserved a happily-ever-after, right?

So why had Dylan even graced The Double-B with a visit? Claudia flexed her matchmaking skills and had a neighbor drop her over to pick up her van, phoning Dylan I’d need a ride.

Sneaky woman. Could she be more obvious?

But let me tell you. That “ride home” had been the car ride from futher-mudging Hell.

Dylan’s car felt like a sauna. I wasn’t sure if that was the heat rolling off him or the fact I was a little warm and fuzzy inside myself. Mr. B had lumbered up to the front desk and broke up the nonverbal posturing between Dylan and Ben. Ben dispensed a cocky smile and stupidly ran his knuckles down my cheek, promising, “Later.”

Something snapped behind him, and I realized it was the pencil Dylan had been twirling. I tried not to smile but couldn’t help it. The look on Dylan’s face was priceless.
Whatever
, I told myself. I’d probably never see Ben again, but it was nice to know Dylan could lose his cool and Ben had found me desirable.

We’d driven a few miles and a stubborn line painted on his jaw while his mouth clamped shut. Sometimes I wished he’d scream, curse, or throw things upside my head. His silence was my cue to spur the conversation, and surprisingly I felt a transparency that lately I’d kept hidden.

“What’s wrong with you?” I asked.

“Seriously?” he laughed sarcastically.

“Yes, seriously,” I said quietly.

“I’ve had a bad day, Darcy.” Well, his day sounded pretty darn good from what Collin claimed. Brynn was all up in his umm…personal effects…and he didn’t seem to mind the intrusion.

I ignored him and soldiered on. “He asked me out, D. Should I go?”

Dylan glanced up in the rearview mirror, and a deafening silence cut through the air. I’d always admired the way Dylan drove. Confident, skilled, and sexy as heck—just like the rest of him. Tonight, however, he seemed jumpy. I heard a muttered f-word, and the angel on my shoulder told me I blackened up not only my soul, but his.

Grrrrrrrreaaat.

I repeated the question. Dylan’s resulting sigh made me immediately regret it. “No,” he answered. “You don’t know him.”

“I kind of know him.”

“First I’ve heard of that,” he added.

“Yeah, a lot of firsts are going around,” I countered.

“…
what?
”

I circled back to the original subject while Dylan’s eyes remained riveted to the rearview mirror. “Isn’t dating when you’re supposed to
get
to know someone?”

After about fifteen seconds, he answered. “It is, but I didn’t actually think you’d follow through with it. Do you
want
to date him?” Dylan’s voice went tight. Like something caught in his throat he tried to swallow down.
No
, I told myself. I didn’t want to do anything except spend time with him, but somehow we’d wound up where we were with this stupid science experiment looming over my head. I simply didn’t know how to go back.

“I don’t know,” I exhaled. “You have more experience than me. I hear you and Brynn have gotten close. She
is
your math partner, right?”

Dylan’s eyes flashed angrily. “You’re trying to find any excuse in the world to start a fight. I swear, Darcy, you’re like a fricking moving target. Every time I make headway, you shoot up another diversion, and I’m back to kickoff. Do you know what makes me angrier than this so called science experiment?” Well, no, but I thought it’d be dumb to ask. “It makes me angry you think I’d even come at you if it didn’t mean something. You’ve been my best friend for years. I’d never screw with your heart unless I thought it could be the best thing that ever happened to us.” His face went blank for a moment, and I couldn’t read him. “Are you sure about your feelings for
me
?” he finished.

My answer came fast. “Always,” I said sheepishly. “That’s the only thing I’m sure of in my life.”

Instead of fostering one of those heart-pounding reunions, all it did was fan the flames on his anger. “Then that means you aren’t sure about
me
,” he barked. “And that irritates the hell out of me. But to make myself clear, if you aren’t willing to give us a chance, then you should never date someone who treated you disrespectfully. Ben Ryan is an ass. You saw that in the way he treated me. And I’d
like
to think that maybe you’ve got my back as much as I still have
yours
.”