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“You’re counting the days?” Griffin reached out to hug her and nearly lifted her off her feet. “Sorry.” He carefully set her down and took her hand to continue their walk. “There’s something in the air here that I find most inspiring. Now if I can only capture it in music, I could end up famous.”
“You’re already famous,” Darcy reminded him.
“Perhaps, but that’s no reason not to set goals.”
“My goal is to make a tremendous success of Defy the World Tomatoes,” Darcy countered.
“You appear to be well on your way.”
“Yes, unless we’re stepped upon by an evil giant.”
“Is that how you see me?”
Every time Darcy glanced up at him, she got the same fluttering sensation in her stomach. Half of her wanted to grab him and never let go. The other half cursed her for having such a terrible weakness for such an impossible man.
“You confuse me completely, and that’s not good,” she confessed.
“I’ll not apologize for being who I am.”
“Nor should you.” His hand was warm, the pressure of his fingers comforting on hers, and she wished he weren’t from an exclusive world where landscapers remained in the yard rather than track leaves inside beautifully appointed mansions.
“It’s Saturday,” Griffin suddenly recalled. “Are you free tonight?”
“That all depends on what you have in mind,” Darcy responded.
“Dinner, movies. What do people do for fun here?”
“I’ve really no idea.”
“None at all?” Griffin teased. “What’s the matter with the men in this town that they aren’t pursuing you night and day?”
“Maybe they just have more sense than you do.”
Griffin laughed and leaned down to kiss her cheek. “You are an absolute delight, Darcy. I wish we’d met on my first visit here.”
Darcy thought it was a damn good thing they hadn’t. When they reached Defy the World, she pointed him on down the street toward the music store and went back to staring numbly at her sketchpad. All too soon she heard Griffin speak to George, and he did not sound happy. Before she could leave her desk, Griffin leaned in the doorway.
“Was that your idea of a joke?” he asked in a near snarl.
He sounded furious, but Darcy had no idea what had upset him and reacted with curiosity rather than terror. “I can’t even imagine playing a joke on you. What do you mean?”
“The clerk at the Song and Dance is a purple-haired freak with a nose ring who calls herself Isis. I still gave her the benefit of the doubt and introduced myself, but all I got in return was a dismissive shrug, so she was obviously no fan of mine.
“She leaned over the counter and said, ‘What can I do for you, dude?’ At least I found the paper I need, so the trip wasn’t a total waste.”
Darcy left her chair in a single hop and pushed her index finger into his broad chest to emphasize her point. “I was straight with you. The clerk I met was a red-haired young man. I’m sorry, I should have described him to you. If the ‘purple-haired freak’ mentions your name, I’m sure he’ll be devastated to have missed you.”
Griffin caught her hand and brought it to his lips for a quick kiss before he released her. “He’ll survive. Where would you like to go for dinner?”
Darcy stepped back and swept him with a suspicious gaze. “Did we agree to have dinner together?”
“Yes, we did. There’s a French movie at the Monarch Theater which looks pretty good. It starts at seven, but I don’t want to rush you.”
Darcy loved foreign films, and it had been ages since she’d treated herself to one. She shoved her hands into the pockets of her dark green overalls and rocked back on her heels. “We close at six, so we’ll have to go to the movie first and dinner afterwards, if that’s all right with you.”
“It’s fine. Give me your address and I’ll pick you up at six forty-five.”
He reached for the pen in her bib pocket, but Darcy snatched it first and handed it to him. “I’m right around the corner at 231 Poppy. It’s the red house with the yellow trim and green door. You can’t miss it.”
