25. Hayden

CHAPTER 25

HAYDEN

I'm still thinking about fucking Darcy in her favorite sex position when Patrick Grant, the male lead on The Northern Sword , who plays Prince Cadius, approaches us at the bar, and my whole body tenses.

He's Darcy's favorite character.

"Who's this cute little thing?" he asks, smiling down at her like he wants to devour her.

She grins. "I'm Darcy."

"Of course you are."

His teeth are too white, and there are too many of them. His face has that perfect, sculpted look I've seen on other Hollywood people. His British accent doesn't even sound real.

I don't like him, and I don't like the way he's looking at Darcy.

"You're not on the show, right?" He studies her with interest and arrogant confidence, like he knows he has this in the bag. "I would have remembered you."

"No," she laughs. "I'm not an actor."

Grant's eyes widen like he can't believe it, and I turn away, shaking my head. This fucking guy. He probably uses this line once a week .

"Not an actor?" he repeats, like it's the most shocking thing he's ever heard. "Well, your beauty is wasted."

"No, it isn't," I cut in with an edge to my voice.

She just laughs him off, though. "I'm an actuary."

"Brilliant." Every single overly whitened tooth is visible. "I love birds."

Darcy bites back a smile, and I drag in a calming breath, studying her reaction. She doesn't actually think his ignorance is cute, right? It's funny when I joke that she works with birds. With this guy, it's just annoying.

"What do you suggest I do on my evenings off in Vancouver, darling Darcy?" Grant asks, and my hand clenches at my side.

Protective feelings race through me, and I grit my teeth, because I can see exactly where this is going.

"Go see a hockey game." She gives me a private smile that makes me want to grab her hand.

"Fantastic. I love ice hockey."

"Really?" She lights up. "You're a hockey fan?"

"Huge. The biggest." He glances at me with a tight smile, like I'm intruding on their date or something. "And who's this strapping young fellow?"

Hockey fan, my ass. I give him a bold, friendly smile, gritting my teeth the entire time. "Hayden Owens."

We shake hands. I put a little extra grip into it, and he winces.

"Hayden's on the Vancouver Storm," Darcy tells him.

"Oh, yes." Grant nods and rubs his chin like he's Gandalf. "Thought I recognized you."

"I'm sure you did." I give him a tight smile, holding his gaze with challenge.

I don't like this guy. Not one fucking bit. I don't like the way he looks at Darcy, I don't like the way she laughs at his jokes, and I don't like how he moves his arm to rest on the bar behind her. His body language is clear: he's interested.

My heart jumps into my throat as he opens his mouth.

He's going to ask her out.

On instinct, I clutch her hand. "We're going to grab another drink," I call over my shoulder, hauling Darcy away. "Nice chatting with you, Peter."

He blinks at us in surprise, but I throw my arm around her, leading her to the bar upstairs.

"We could have ordered from the bar we were at," Darcy says as I pull her up the stairs.

"This one's quieter."

We reach the bar, and I order another round, keeping a hand on Darcy at all times. I shouldn't be touching her like this, but my protective instincts are in overdrive.

"He's better-looking in real life," she comments as we get our drinks. "I think they lighten his hair for the show. Also, you called him Peter. Did you realize that?"

"He's not that good-looking," I mutter. "It's dark in here. Makes everyone look hotter."

She gives me a funny smile, eyes lingering on me, and I shift under her gaze.

"What?"

She grins wider. "Why are you acting so weird?"

I take my hand off her lower back. "I'm not."

"You are."

I turn away, keeping an eye on the top of the stairs so Grant doesn't come waltzing up here after her.

"Oh my god." She smiles wider. "Are you jealous?"

I scoff. "No."

Her eyes light up. She's too smart for my bullshit. "Uh, yes , you are. You're jealous. "

I suck in a deep breath, running my hand through my hair. "I need another drink."

"Hayden."

"Okay." I look down at her. "Yes. I'm jealous. He looked at you like?—"

I cut myself off. Like he wanted to fuck her. Like he wanted to do all the things I've been dreaming and fantasizing about for years.

"Like what?"

"He looked at you like he already had it in the bag, Darce." There. That's the truth, just not the whole truth. "And I don't like the idea of some guy taking you for granted." Or taking her home. Or touching her. Or looking at her.

"Hey." Her hand lands on my arm, and she smiles up at me with a patient, amused smile. "You're still my number one."

My body relaxes, and I let out a heavy breath. "I know."

Grant appears at the top of the stairs, but he sees my hard expression and heads over to a group of castmates.

"I'm not interested in him. And if I was? Even I know not to do anything while I'm on a date with someone else." She gives me a playful nudge, and the knots loosen in my chest so I can breathe again. "I'd have to take you out again on another practice date. We'd be stuck doing practice dates for eternity."

Her grin is teasing, but going out on practice dates for eternity with Darcy sounds pretty damn good to me.

But that's not my job, to keep her all to myself. I'm supposed to be showing her the ropes.

"Are you ready to move on to dates with real guys?" I study her face, looking for any sign that she's done with this. "I mean, uh, real prospects?"

She wrinkles her nose and she shakes her head. "Not yet. Is that okay? "

"Good. Yes," I rush out. "Of course. You know I'm here for whatever you need."

Asshole , a voice whispers in my head.

"I know." She smiles. "So, if this were a real date," she says, bringing her drink to her lips. Without my permission, my eyes linger on her mouth pursed around her straw. "Would you say it's going well?"

"Yes." Every so often, Grant glances over here at Darcy, and my blood pressure spikes.

"Any notes?"

"Nope."

There. He looked at her again. I fold my arms over my chest, and we make eye contact. I hold his gaze, arching a brow as if to say I fucking dare you .

Darcy gives me an indulgent smile. "Don't go easy on me. I'm trying to learn. You must have some feedback."

I rest my arm along the top of the love seat we're sitting on. I'm not touching her, but my body language is clear.

Mine.

"You're doing great." When I look down into her eyes, all the jealous, territorial feelings melt away, and it's just me and her. The way it should be. "I'm having a really fun time with you."

We should have fucking stayed home, though. I don't know why I opened my big mouth and told her about the cast party tonight.

Because she loves the show, I remind myself. Because she's having fun. Because she's figuring out what she wants, and going out and making new memories is an important part of that.

"So if this was a real date and it was going really well, what would you do next?"

"What do you mean? "

"What's your next move? Do you ask her out on a second date? Do you drop hints to get her to come home with you?" Her mouth quirks up, and I want to kiss it. "Show me your moves."

"I'd make up an excuse to kiss you."

Oh, shit. I really did just say that.

Her lips part, surprise rising in her eyes. "Like what?"

My pulse picks up, and I vaguely remember vowing not to do shit like this, but he's over there, staring at her, and she's right beside me, looking so cute and pretty and sweet, and the smart part of my brain has taken a back seat.

"Like… Patrick Grant keeps staring at you and I don't want him to think he actually has a chance."

Her breath catches and her eyes dart to the bar, where Grant is indeed watching her while listening to someone else talk. "He doesn't think that."

"He does."

She gestures at herself. "Me?" She widens her eyes and glances over at him. "Him? Just bizarre."

Jesus fuck, she has no idea what she looks like or how funny and lovely she is. No fucking clue.

"Not that bizarre, Darce." I work my jaw, shifting so I'm facing her on the seat. "It would be the humane thing to do, though."

"What, kiss?"

"Yeah." I swallow, watching her expression for any sign of discomfort or hesitation. "You don't want to lead him on."

Kissing Darcy would slam the door of possibility closed on Patrick Grant, send a loud and clear message.

And more than anything, I really, really fucking want to. I've wanted to kiss her for years. My knee bounces in anticipation as I study her face.

"Right." She blows out a long breath, nodding. "I don't want to lead him on. You know all about that." She pulls her bottom lip between her teeth as a crease forms between her eyebrows. "It's probably good to practice, too."

I raise an eyebrow at her in question.

"Kit isn't the only guy I've ever kissed," she explains. "I kissed a guy in high school, but we were sixteen and it was outside and rushed and kind of…" She mashes her palms together, and I huff a surprised laugh. "Mushy?" she says, laughing and wincing.

"Yikes." I grin. "You're a mushy kisser?"

"No," she sputters, laughing harder. "I don't think so. Kit never had any complaints."

Another stab of jealousy hits me in the gut.

"I'm happy to help you," I say, staring at her mouth.

The warning bells ringing in my head fade away, and all I can think about is how much I want her. My blood pounds in my ears as I watch her tuck her bottom lip between her teeth.

"Okay." She nods. "We should kiss, then."

I bring a hand up beneath her chin and tip her face up to mine. Our eyes lock and my heart races, and I wonder if this is a mistake before I lower my mouth to hers.