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Troy could not believe he was sitting here listening to Kent wax poetic about love. “Okay.”
“And she feels the same way.” He gulped beer, looking uncomfortable. “I sound like Dr. Phil, huh?”
“I promise I will tell no one.”
“Thanks.” He grinned wryly. “But you know what Steve was most wrong about? I don’t feel less of a man enjoying her and the things she enjoys. I feel more. Like my dick is bigger.”
“Oh, oh.” Troy cringed, waving Kent away like a bad smell. “I could really do without that image.”
“Figuratively, anyway, but it is.” Kent dragged his beer closer. “Point is, if it’s good, you don’t feel like you have to do that stuff, the flowers and the gardening. You want to.”
“Even leaving an extra innings game after the ninth?”
“Ooh.” Kent screwed up his face in pain. “There are limits. But Debby was serious poison—don’t judge anything by her. We’ve all dated Debbys, women who trample men. A good woman will lift you up to something higher and better.”
Troy cracked up. “Thank you, Preacher Kent. How are things at the Church of Feelings?”
Kent joined in the laughter. “I’m born again, brother Troy! Halle-freaking-lujah.”
“Amen to that.” Troy lifted his beer. They toasted and drank.
“I take it you and this Darcy woman fought.”
“She got upset about something and I didn’t see the point. Reminded me of Debby and I freaked.”
“Hmm.” Kent stroked his chin thoughtfully. “Is she like Debby when things are good?”
Troy didn’t even have to think about that one. “Not at all. Night and day.”
“Remember Steve’s theory that falling for a woman meant handing her your balls?”
“Yup.” Troy moved uncomfortably. “Exactly the phenomenon I’m trying to avoid repeating.”
Kent shook his head. “I have a new theory. This one is a hell of a lot better.”
“Okay.” Troy lifted an eyebrow. This would be good. “I’m ready, let’s hear it.”
“My theory is that when you fall for a woman, you don’t hand her your balls, you offer them.”
Troy made a face. “And this is different how?”
“Because if she’s a real woman, a good woman, a woman worth keeping—” Kent leaned back smugly in the booth “—she isn’t going to want them.”
TROY KNOCKED ON THE BACK DOOR to Gladiolas. Darcy wouldn’t be there, which he was counting on, but he remembered her talking about a special event they were holding that night, which the restaurant, usually closed on Mondays, would be open for. He wanted to talk to Ace. Marie had called him the night before and dropped the bomb about Sean’s betrayal and the proof that Raoul stole her recipes. Troy had been trying to figure out how to help Darcy before Marie even finished the story. Though whether or not Raoul had turned out to be criminal as well as an asshole was beside the point. The point was that Darcy had strong feelings, and he’d rejected them out of selfish fear and baggage courtesy of a completely different woman. That much at least he could fix. The rest…he’d try.
“Yeah?” Ace met him with a challenging stare out of eyes that appeared clear and in touch with reality. Good for him. And good for Troy, who didn’t want to deal with a clouded mind. “Darcy’s not here.”
“I know. I want to talk to you.”
Ace’s reddish brows lowered; he hesitated, obviously struggling between loyalty and curiosity. “About what?”
“Can I come in?”
Another once-over. Good that he was so protective of Darcy, but Troy needed him on his side today. “Do you need to?”
“I owe you an apology. If I have to humble myself, I’d like to do it somewhere other than a cold alley that smells like kitchen castoffs.”
The corners of Ace’s mouth twitched. “I don’t know, dude. I’m thinking you can’t get much more humble than that.”
“True.” He waited, staring Ace down.
“Okay.” Ace stepped aside, gestured him in. “C’mon. Not too busy at the moment, but it won’t stay that way.”
