Must Be Magic (Spellbound) (6 page)

Without looking back, he headed for the door before she said anything else to make him change his mind, and she wouldn’t have to say much at all.

Knowing that, only pissed him off, made it easier to pull the door open. He’d come close to giving up everything important in his life for her, and she’d completely shut him out. He needed to remember that if he wanted to get through this weekend without driving himself crazy wondering how incredible it would be between them now.

It was bad enough his father had turned up, without tossing what-ifs that revolved around Darby into the mix. He had enough to deal with.

Determined to keep his distance, he slipped outside and jogged down the front steps—and almost right into Dante Calder.

Chapter Three

Riley.

It was the first thought to drift through Darby’s head, the one she was fairly sure was still attached, judging by how much it hurt. Even when they were younger, Darby hadn’t been able to keep up with her older sister when it came to holding her liquor.

And whoever thought it would be funny to pound on her door—Finn probably—when she hadn’t even managed to peel her eyes open was going to end up taking a swim like Reggie had if they didn’t knock it off.

No matter how hard she muttered under her breath for them to go away, the knocking continued. Shoving the blanket off, she glanced down and realized she was still dressed.

It took a minute to wrap her thoughts around that, with her head feeling like it was vibrating on her shoulders, but the details started coming back to her.

Bryce.

Shit.
She rubbed her hand over her face, wishing like hell she was one of those people who drank so much they couldn’t remember all the humiliating details of the night before.

Fairly certain it wasn’t Bryce knocking—she hoped—she managed to make it to the door after only stubbing her toe. The brief flare of pain was almost a welcome diversion from the throbbing between her temples.

Riley was so dead.

Catching a glimpse of Dante through the window, she thought about crawling back under the blanket and pretending she wasn’t there. Her brother was more stubborn than a dog with a bone, though, and would either park his butt on the step and wait for her or—

The door swung open before she turned the handle, and he poked his head inside.

His brows drew together as he scrutinized her appearance. “At least you’re still dressed.”

She frowned at the oddly relieved tone. “Riley’s fault.”

Accustomed to her brother using magic to routinely check on her—she’d given up on complaining about it years ago—she turned and padded into the bathroom with little more than a scowl. She scanned the countertop for something to relieve the throbbing between her temples. At some point last night she was sure she’d reminded herself that she didn’t do hangovers.

Apparently she hadn’t cared.

After dropping two tablets into her palm, she used the glass of water sitting by her bed to wash the pills down. She couldn’t remember pouring it last night.

“I saw Bryce leaving last night.”

The last pill stuck in her throat and she made a choking sound before taking another drink. “What?”

Dante stood opposite her, arms crossed. “Bryce.”

She shook her head. “Whatever you’re thinking, just stop.”

“So I shouldn’t be thinking that he took advantage of you?”

“Would I be fully dressed in last night’s clothes if he had?” Though now that she thought about it, she was pretty sure
she
was the one who had tried to take advantage.

She winced at the memory.

Dante opened his mouth to argue, but she cut him off.

“As much as you’d love a reason to kick his ass, you’re going to have to settle for disappointment this time. Sorry.”

“I saw him leaving your bungalow.”

She shrugged, hoping she looked far more dismissive about the whole thing than she felt. “He made sure I got back here without losing my sandals along the way.” The not-so-fuzzy memory of wrapping her arms around Bryce as he carried her made her cheeks start to warm.

“He’s a guy. Trust me, he wasn’t thinking about the well-being of your footwear.”

“Maybe he has a shoe fetish.” She bent down to straighten her sandals and hopefully hide her flushed face from her perceptive sibling.

“You think?” He perked up and she could all but hear the gears spinning in his head. No doubt he was wondering how he could use a tidbit like that to his advantage.

Darby rolled her eyes and straightened. “He does not have a shoe fetish.” It seemed important to clarify that just in case it crossed his mind to spy on Bryce to be sure.

“Then what was he doing here last night?”

“He didn’t try anything, Dante.” Unlike her. God, what had she been thinking? Right, she hadn’t been. Why didn’t that make her feel any better then?

“And you didn’t want him to, right?”

“No.” She escaped into the bathroom. At least it was easier to believe that the morning after. Last night was a different story.

She wasn’t fast enough getting the door shut. Dante’s arm shot out to stop her from slamming it in his face.

She folded her arms in front of her. “What?”

“You look guilty about something.”

“I do not.”

“Darby.”

“Dante,” she countered, unable to mimic that tell-me-or-I’ll-tell-Mom tone he’d been using on her since they were kids.

He cocked his head, trying to read her mind. It was a game they’d been playing since they were ten years old. Right around that time she’d started holding back things from her twin—things that usually involved boys—and Dante had been determined to prove he knew her so well that he didn’t need for her to actually speak out loud.

And maybe a time or two his guesses had been so dead-on that he’d convinced her he really could read her mind. Then again, he’d also convinced Finn he could jump out of their tree house without getting hurt. Finn hadn’t talked to Dante for a week after he ended up with a broken arm.

Ignoring the penetrating stare that had made her cave more times than she would ever admit to, she gave up on locking herself in the bathroom. Instead, she dug through her half-empty suitcase for shorts and a T-shirt.

“If I’m feeling bad about anything, it’s that I’ll be forcing every smile on Bree’s hike this morning.” The group hike hadn’t sounded so bad yesterday. Now she was thinking she’d rather take her chances jumping out of a tree house.

“The hike that starts in fifteen minutes?”

“Really?” She grabbed his wrist and checked his watch.
Crap.

“Nice try though.”

She let out a breath. “Fine. I threw up on his shoes last night, okay?”

He arched a brow. “His feet looked fine to me.”

Of course Mr. Attention to Detail would have noticed that. It was what made Dante so good at his job.

“Would you walk around with vomit on your shoes?” She waved him toward the door. “I felt bad and took care of it.”

“Why?”

“Because we called a temporary truce.”

“A friends-with-benefits truce?”

She snorted. “No.” Though she’d apparently thought so last night. She couldn’t decide what was more humiliating—all but throwing herself at Bryce or that he’d turned her down.

Dante stopped in front of the door. “Then why was he staring at you last night?”

So her brother had noticed. “He was probably wondering when I’d go back on my word and pull something.”

It was his turn to snort. “I don’t like that guy, and neither do you.”

“I know.” Too bad she hadn’t remembered that little detail last night, like right around the time she’d gone for Bryce’s zipper.

So help her, she wasn’t touching another drop of alcohol this weekend. It should have taken more than a few drinks—okay, a lot of drinks—to forget how badly things had ended between them, to even think about having sex with him.

“I’m going to jump in the shower.”

“Wait.” Dante’s expression softened. “I know that being in a place like this probably brings back memories—”

Memories were only part of the problem. It didn’t help that being in a place so similar to where she and Bryce met was messing with her head, but worse than that was the truce.

Forty-eight hours of not fighting should have given her nothing more than a little breathing room. Instead, it made it harder to breathe without remembering the difference between Bryce’s polite smile and the one that she used to believe was meant just for her, or the teasing light in his eyes that transformed him from aloof to devilish.

And that shiver…the one that curled up her spine, all slow and delicious, and like nothing she’d felt with anyone but him.

He broke your heart.

Her hand drifted across her stomach, her mind replaying her and Bryce’s conversation last night and wishing…what exactly?

Dante glanced at where her hand stalled at her abdomen. “Darby?”

She nudged him toward the door. “We really don’t need to do this. Nothing is going to happen between Bryce and me.” She opened the door. “And don’t go off half-cocked and warn him to stay away from me. We don’t need any more family drama this weekend, okay?”

He sighed. “Just promise me that you won’t let some truce make you forget what that bastard put you through.”

“Do you really think that’s necessary?”

He stepped out onto the porch. “You tell me.”

Sometimes she really hated how well her twin thought he knew her. She hated it even more when he turned out to be right.

“Out.”

“Darby—”

“Bye, Dante.
Clausus.
”

The door had barely slammed in his face when he knocked.

She sighed and yanked it open.

“I just don’t want to see you hurt like that again.” He glanced away, and any annoyance at his overprotectiveness instantly fled.

“I know.” She released a slow breath. “I haven’t forgotten.” Not how much it hurt or how much she’d cried. Or that it had been Dante in that hospital room, holding her hand because Bryce hadn’t wanted to be there.

She hadn’t forgotten any of it. If she let herself, she could still remember the way she’d watched the door, hoping that Bryce would walk through at any moment, even though he’d refused to acknowledge her pregnancy altogether.

And last night she’d tried to seduce him.

God, it didn’t even make sense how those details, so clear in her mind this morning, had gotten lost in the shadow of the old Bryce, the one she’d fallen so hard for. Yesterday she would have insisted he didn’t exist anymore, that maybe he never had, but after last night…

Not that it mattered, she thought, despite the tiny voice that whispered she was a horrible liar.

“I’m not crazy enough to go there again, okay?” Just crazy enough to try feeling Bryce up, apparently.

“You weren’t crazy the first time it happened either, but sometimes—”

She opened her mouth, but he held up his hands in defeat.

“Okay. I’m going before you try and shove my head up my ass.”

Offering him a too-sweet smile, she nodded. “Good idea.”

When Dante left, she leaned against the closed door. She understood her brother’s overprotective streak, even when it wasn’t warranted. The alcohol and the reminders of their past had made for a bad combination, one she wouldn’t be repeating. She had no intention of landing in the same place as before—pregnant and alone.

And that was before she’d lost the baby.

Her insides drew tight, but before she could further revisit memories she’d put behind her a long time ago, she grabbed her clothes off the end of the bed.

She had a hike to get ready for and she’d be damned if she spent another moment thinking about what happened between her and Bryce, whether it was ten years ago or just last night.

For the second time in twenty-four hours, Darby wanted to turn tail and run.

And not just a quick jog to get out of Bryce’s immediate line of sight.
Hell no.
She wanted to all-out sprint in the opposite direction and not look back until she’d cleared the other side of the island.

Had she fled yesterday, she and Bryce might have avoided all the crazy truce business that had led to her crossing the line last night.

And drunk and caught up in the past or not, it shouldn’t have happened.

She’d be doing them both a favor—not to mention saving herself some embarrassment—if she just returned to her bungalow. The place where she’d tried to take advantage of him.

Heat flooded her cheeks and she had to force herself to put one foot in front of the other. She was here for Finn and Bree and would just have to pretend last night hadn’t happened. Pretend that every time Bryce had touched her, every time that he’d looked like he was aching to kiss her, hadn’t awakened something inside her that she thought had died a long time ago.