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Bennet,
Did you arrive home safely? Did Lyon fare okay in your absence?
Excuse me for writing so publicly. I didn’t have your number, nor did I wish to procure it without your permission.
* * *
Darcy
Darcywhtilney @gmail.com
The patrons stood, still watching him.
He grinned. “Well I’m home safe, as you can see.”
Something flashed and all but one person dispersed. She stepped closer, winked at him and asked, “Darling, while you’re up there, could you pass me some Honeypuffs?”
“Sure, of course.” He passed her a box, and when she left, he sagged against the rails.
Why check in with him like this? He’d have thought Darcy would never want to think of him again.
Maybe he thought it was the proper thing to do and he forced himself to live up to his principles, no matter how much he disliked Bennet.
As Bennet stared at the message, a reply popped under it. From Caroline.
I can assure you, Bennet got home fine. Better than fine, after I whole-heartedly agreed to support the village’s first Pride event.
Bennet scoffed. Perhaps Darcy wasn’t all wrong about insincere pride—
Another reply.
Oh, wonderful. A picture of him clutching the ladder against a background of Honeypuffs, looking like a startled rabbit.
Bennet laughed and wrote Darcy an email.
To: Darcywhtilney @gmail.com
From: Bennetkeene @gmail.com
* * *
Darcy,
* * *
As Caroline said, we’re both fine. Well, Lyon is fine. I’d be better if you hadn’t seen me from that very flattering angle.
* * *
Bennet
He disentangled himself from the ladder, rushed through the last of his shopping, and hoofed home—to a reply . . .
Bennet,
* * *
I’m glad to hear that you are . . . fine.
It is a particularly flattering angle indeed.
* * *
Darcy
Laughter bubbled out of him and he shook his head.
He stashed his phone up on the mezzanine floor so he’d be less tempted to answer, and got to work prepping for dinner and Ms. Collins.
Ms. Collins—Olivia—was the perfect amount of sweet, and everyone, including Lyon, liked her.
Charlie got on particularly well, laughing loudly at her charming stories over their wine and lamb chops.
“I’ve plenty of woolen fabric with me,” Olivia said after Lyon blurted that Bennet had nothing to wear for the ball. “I could whip you up a navy jacket with brass buttons.”
“Oh, Bennet rarely wears dark colors.”
“How does red sound?” She looked at him, smiling. Yes, if Darcy were inclined toward women, she would definitely give Caroline a run for her money.
“It sounds perfect.”
When the last chop had been gnawed, Lyon roped Bennet into a game of Snap, which turned to best of three when Bennet won the first round.
“Our guests have taken off with the dishes!” Bennet said, alarmed, after he’d narrowly won round three.
Lyon snickered. “Like fifteen minutes ago.”
Olivia came out smiling as she answered her phone, and Bennet snuck into the kitchen. Charlie was bowed over the sink.
He swatted Charlie’s ass with a dishtowel. “What horror is this? Guests doing the cleaning up!”
“We decided to be useful while we talked.”
A fair bit of dishwashing had been done . . . “Interesting conversation?”
“She’s a . . . nice woman, eh? Kind, compassionate, genuine.”
“All good traits, agreed.”
Charlie scrubbed a plate and side-eyed him. “Bennet . . . I’ve been thinking.”
“Yes?”
“Well, you know Olivia.”
“My other guest.”
“Yeah.”
“Go on.”
“Well, you know how you only have a pull-out couch?”
“I’m familiar.”
“It can’t be too comfortable.”
“Probably not the most, no.”
“Yeah.”
Bennet raised a brow, waiting for Charlie to arrive at his—predictable—point.
“Right. Well, that couch can’t be good for her back.”
“She seems fit for forty.”
“And one wouldn’t want to compromise that fitness.”
“No, probably not.”
“Which brings me to my next thought.”
Lyon burst into the kitchen, flushed. “Oh my God. Look outside.”
Charlie and Bennet stepped to the window and peered down at the main street. A half-dozen shearers were crowded outside the inn, laughing and smoking their cigarettes.
Lyon wedged between them, his sigh fogging the window. He rubbed it away with his sleeve. “This is heaven. Every night at this time, they step out for a nicotine fix. That one on the end I call Dragon, on account of the steam from his e-ciggie. That one’s the Beast, because—” Lyon made a hulking gesture “—that one is Grizzly . . . Boy Toy . . . Tarzan . . . Love Muffin and my favorite, Big Daddy—”
Calmly, Bennet drew the curtains shut.
Lyon nodded. “The lounge has better vantage point. Agreed.”
He left the room, and Bennet shook his head. “Don’t get me started. You were saying?”
Charlie grinned and dunked his hands back into the soapy water. “I was thinking maybe she could stay at my place? Because I have a spare room.”
“Because you have a spare room.”
“And maybe I’d like to talk to her some more.”
Bennet tensed at the flush in Charlie’s cheeks. “I don’t understand.”
“Which part? The bad couch? My spare room?”
“The part where you’d like to talk to her more.”
“Well, she’s . . . nice, eh.”
