There it was again—that promise. I laughed to cover the hot blush on my cheeks as he took another drink.
“How about you?” he asked. “What do you do?”
“I’m in marketing—a social marketing director. Unlike you, I did not birth any movements, but I’ve always loved art and aesthetics. If my mother had her way, I’d be running our family’s flower shop.”
“Flower shop? Wait, Bennet … you’re one of the Longbourne Bennets?”
“You know who we are?” I asked, amused.
“Sure. We covered the whole Longbourne-Bower feud through to the end. You guys are low-key famous, didn’t you know?”
“That is so weird.” A chuckle. “But yes, I’m one of those Bennets. I actually did their marketing until the big corporate team took over.”
“You couldn’t head it up?”
His curiosity wasn’t judgmental, but I felt the prickle of defensiveness all the same.
“They had things well in hand, and Wasted Words needed somebody. So Jett and I moved to the Upper West to be close to work, and here we are. Now I’m part of the marketing team for our expansion. I mean, in theory, at least.”
“Ah, hence the connection to Darcy. Cooper called that one in too, huh?”
“Yet another resourceful guy. I don’t know how he does it all. The other owner, Rose, is on maternity leave, so I’m afraid you won’t meet her. Unless you’re planning on sticking around?”
“You know, I think I just might.”
I watched him tip his pint glass, the golden liquid disappearing past lips I found myself very much interested in. When he set the empty glass on the bar, the foam slid down the walls to the bottom as he stood, grabbing his bag.
“If I wasn’t gonna see you soon, I’d ask you out.” He laid a twenty on the bar, but his gaze was on me.
“Well, tell me when so I can print up pins for our new anti-Darcy club.” My heart fluttered in my rib cage like I was a teenager.
“The mixer. That is, assuming you’ll be there.”
“And if not?”
“Then I need to know so I can ask you to dinner.”
“You can ask me to dinner anyway, you know.”
His head bobbed side to side in mock thought. “I could, but this is more exciting, isn’t it?” With that smile firmly in place, he backed away. “See you there.”
“I suppose you will,” I answered. He walked backward a few paces, before turning for the door.
And I smiled down at my drink, undeniably optimistic despite Liam Darcy’s best efforts.
7
Inconvenient Truths
LIAM
Georgie didn’t utter a single word the entire car ride home.
I glanced at her out of the corner of my eye as we sat in the back of the Mercedes and found her in the same immovable position she’d been in since we’d climbed in—arms folded and jaw set, her fiery gaze locked somewhere beyond the window.
And just like her, I maintained my silence, knowing she’d blow up on me when she couldn’t keep it to herself anymore. Asking her what was wrong—especially since I knew exactly what was wrong—would be a fatal mistake, one I’d made enough times to know better.
So the silence continued from Midtown and up the length of Madison Avenue. Even when we rounded the block to Fifth and pulled up to our building, she said nothing, only beat the doorman to opening the car door, making sure to slam it in my face before I could follow her. With a sigh, I opened it again. The doorman took it from me, offering his apologies, which I assured him were unnecessary. And I followed my sister inside.
She’d gotten enough of a lead on me that I barely made it into the elevator with her. Her nose was in the air, her cheeks rosy and lips flat as she studiously ignored me up fifteen floors, the only sound the dinging demarcating each one. Once at our floor—the top floor—the doors opened, and she blew up to the front door, unlocking and throwing it wide.
Hands in my pockets, I followed her at a distance. By my estimation, we were about at critical mass. Her heels clicked on the hardwood as she headed for the stairs, but I turned for the kitchen in search of the liquor cabinet, knowing she’d be right behind me.
Halfway up the stairs, her footfalls stopped. Stomped back down. Clicked in my direction. I’d just put the topper on a decanter of scotch when she flew into the kitchen and leveled me.
“You were supposed to apologize,” she shot, slamming her purse on the island.
“I tried,” I said simply, taking a sip of my drink.
“Unsurprisingly, you somehow managed to upset her even more. What did you say?”
For a moment, I didn’t answer, staring into my glass as I swirled the amber liquid around. “She’s a difficult person to apologize to—she wouldn’t stop talking long enough for me to explain. Everything I said made her mad. How do you talk to someone like that?”
“You listen, you wait, and then you try again.”
“She stormed off before I could wait or try again. But I did listen. She was right about some things, wrong about others.”
Georgie exhaled in a loud, controlled sigh. “You have to fix this. She is an employee of our client, not some girl you met in a bar.”
“We did meet in a bar.”
She made an impatient sound. “What has gotten into you? Why can’t you show her common professional respect?”
My brow quirked, my eyes back on my drink. I answered both questions with three words.
“I don’t know.”
“You’ve never been what anyone would call charming, but you’ve crossed the line on this one.”
“She and I seem to fundamentally disagree, but rather than keeping it to herself, she reacts without thinking. She’s rude, quick to fight, and can’t stop herself from voicing the multitude of feelings she has on any given topic.”
“So what you’re saying is that she’s too much like you. Except for the feelings thing.”
“We’re nothing alike, George.”
She laughed, a full-blown burst from the bottom of her belly. “Sometimes, I wonder how it’s possible that someone so successful could be so clueless. I am so mad at you—so mad—and you are in the biggest trouble. You degraded her in front of a room of colleagues, which made you look far worse than her—the team has been gossiping about it all day. So you need to come up with a way to smooth things over. Dig deep and get over yourself so you can work with her. She’s not going anywhere, and I don’t care if Cooper Moore is a buddy of yours or not—he’s going to be unhappy if you continue to mistreat her. And if Aunt Catherine hears you’ve potentially put an account of this size at risk, she’s going to flay you.”
None of it was untrue.
“Figure it out, Liam. Take a second to recognize that her traits—the ones that make you act like an animal—are alive and well in you. Maybe if you focused more on your similarities instead of getting twisted every time she opens her mouth, you’ll see you could be an excellent team. But either way, we’re not having this conversation again. Okay?”