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Chapter Six
The following morning, Darcy thought about dressing in a business suit but abandoned the notion and opted for dark skinny jeans and a white V-necked sweater that hugged all her curves. Because if she was going to sweat, Griffin was too.
She took a sip of coffee, and her mom smiled at her. “You look lovely, baby.”
“I’m going to city hall today.”
Darcy’s mom beamed. “To see Griffin?”
“To see if I can put a stop to this. Griffin is a by-product.”
Tammy poured a liberal amount of cream into her coffee, following it up with three heaping scoops of sugar. “He’s still the most handsome boy in town.”
“Ha!” Darcy scoffed.
“Well he is,” Tammy said, putting down her cup. “He’s also our most eligible bachelor.”
The hair on the back of Darcy’s neck prickled. “Hey, what is this? He’s not the point; your house is the point.”
“I know, baby.” Tammy patted her hand. “I’m just saying he’s such a nice boy now.”
Lies. He had them all fooled. No way was he a nice boy.
“You weren’t too happy when I dated him,” Darcy reminded her. Griffin had been more the “lock your doors when he walks by” type. He used to roar up to her house on that old Harley, and they’d go way out of town. Darcy still remembered the way the beast of a machine vibrated through her whole body as she rode on the back, plastered against his strong frame.
“That was a long time ago,” her mom said, ripping her from her thoughts. “He’s changed.”
Not for the better, as far as Darcy was concerned. She gulped down her coffee and stood. “Time to get this over with.”
Now if she could only quell the excited butterflies in her stomach at the thought of seeing him.
“I have faith in you.”
Darcy didn’t. She’d talked to her lawyer friend last night and Roger told her it wasn’t looking very good. She didn’t want her mom’s hopes up. “Mom, you know there’s probably nothing I can do, don’t you?”
Tammy offered an angelic smile. “We’ll see.”
Darcy sighed and climbed into her mom’s old Chevy Camaro ready to take on town hall.
Ten minutes later she was standing at the mayor’s receptionist’s desk, eye to eye with her fifth-grade teacher, Mrs. Weller. She hadn’t been a fan of Darcy’s and didn’t appear to be a fan now. She looked at Darcy over her reading glasses, her lips pursed before she clucked. “Look who’s finally come home. It’s about time.”
Darcy frowned. What business of it was hers if she didn’t come home to Revival? She’d think everyone was glad to be rid of her. Darcy inclined her head. “Mrs. Weller, I’m here to see Griffin.”
The old woman harrumphed. “Let me see if the mayor’s available. He’s a busy man, you know.”
“I know,” Darcy said patiently. “However, I am invited.” She pointed to the closed door. “Ask him and you’ll see.”
Mrs. Weller fluffed her steel gray curls. “Don’t you go flashing that sweater and getting him all distracted, young lady. He needs a nice girl.”
Darcy admitted there were only a few things she knew really well in life. She knew how to use a flat iron, how to do perfect smoky cat eyes, where to get the best martinis in New York, and sex.
Sex was her specialty. She had a master’s degree in human sexuality. And she knew, beyond a reasonable doubt, the last thing Griffin Strong needed was a nice girl.
Griffin would die with a nice girl.
Not that it was any of her business. Because it certainly wasn’t.
Darcy was here for one reason and one reason only. To save her mom’s house.
