Elizabeth of East Hampton (For the Love of Austen #2)

Chapter 8

CHAPTER 8

“Will Darcy did not say that.” Jane was staring at her sister over a basket of baguettes, mouth agape.

Lizzy set a tray of zucchini muffins down on the long folding table under their small white pop-up tent at the farmers market, squinting against the morning sun. “Technically, you’re right. He texted it.”

Behind her, Kitty snorted out a laugh from the top of the ladder where she was hanging American flag decorations from the tent’s metal frame.

The East Hampton Farmers Market was a Sunday tradition, and this Memorial Day weekend was no different. The field outside the Village Hall was a flurry of activity as locals set up their wares. Bennet Bakery had one of the smaller stands—just a table lined with muffins and breads and pastries—so while they were almost done setting up at nine a.m., others were still erecting their tents and hauling their goods from the nearby parking lot. Still, the smell of cherry muffins and sourdough bread was already mixing with cotton candy and hot dogs and citronella candles.

“Maybe he was talking about someone else,” Jane said, positioning a pile of napkins near the register.

Lizzy laughed, turning around to grab another tray of muffins. “I’m not sure that makes it any better.”

“But Will is Charlie’s best friend,” Jane said, shaking her head. “Charlie wouldn’t be friends with someone who would say something like that.”

“Oh, he wouldn’t ?” Lizzy paused, resting the tray against her hip so she could wag her eyebrows at Jane. “Anything else about Charlie Pierce that you care to share?”

Jane’s cheeks flushed. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Are you sure? Because you’ve been smiling at those sticky buns for a disturbing amount of time.”

“Stop it.”

“And you’re blushing.”

“I am not.”

“And I heard you humming,” Kitty added from the ladder.

Lizzy smiled even as she feigned a gasp. “She’s right. You were humming. Woodland creatures could join us at any moment. And then—”

“Fine!” Jane dropped the pile of napkins and took a deep breath. “He’s… nice. Okay?”

Lizzy’s smile fell. “Nice?”

“Yes. Nice.”

“That’s it?”

Jane nodded once.

“Nice.” Kitty looked like she was trying very hard to think of something else to say.

“Did you get his number?” Lizzy asked, desperate for at least this crumb. There’s no way she would have left the bar if she hadn’t assumed they would at least exchange contact information.

Jane’s eyes widened. “I’m not going to ask for a guy’s number.”

Lizzy groaned, her head falling forward. Her older sister was hopeless, and she was about to tell her so when Mary appeared in front of their table. Her thin frame was tented in a T-shirt emblazoned with the words Plastic Kills , and she had a large piece of canvas folded under her arm. “I need scissors.”

Kitty climbed down from the ladder and handed her the pair she had been using.

“Does Green Justice have a booth today?” Jane asked encouragingly.

“Not exactly,” she answered, pocketing the scissors. Then she started to turn away.

“How about some sustenance on your quest to destroy capitalism?” Lizzy asked, biting back a smile.

Mary considered, then grabbed a zucchini muffin.

By the time the sisters finished setting up, people were already filtering into the lopsided circle of tables and tents that constituted the weekly farmers market. As soon as anyone passed the old paint-peeled Village Hall, they would immediately see the Bennet Bakery stand between Vicki Lyon’s organic soaps and Marv’s homemade pickle cotton candy. They had been in the same spot for the last ten years.

“All right,” Kitty said, clapping her hands together like they were in a boardroom. “The table is all set, so is the register. But I still think Dad needs to talk to Marv about moving us closer to the produce tables. Market research says that over 66 percent of people buy fruit and vegetables from farmers markets, and I think—”

“Pace yourself, Kitkat,” Lizzy said, pulling The Court of the Serpent King from her bag and settling in to where the page was dog-eared at chapter 25. Her sister had been making the same point ever since she took that Principles of Marketing class last year. “We can’t get too busy; I have a book to finish.”

Kitty rolled her eyes as if Lizzy were joking. “All right, I’m heading home. Call if you two need anything.”

Lizzy didn’t look up as she waved goodbye.

Within an hour, the market was seeing a steady flow of weekenders and locals alike, all meandering around the different tents. Only a few people stopped at the bakery’s table, so Lizzy stayed engrossed in her book while Jane rang up any purchases.

It was only when she got to chapter 28 and Lord Magnus Beaumont had finally thrown his true love Adrianna over his shoulder and stormed up to his bedroom that Lizzy looked up. She always felt a bit self-conscious when she was reading in public and stumbled upon a particularly racy bit of a book. Although, to be fair, she hadn’t particularly stumbled , since she had been waiting precisely 270 pages for this moment. Still, as she looked around the market, she couldn’t shake the feeling that everyone was watching her, that they knew exactly what was about to happen in Lord Magnus’s chambers.

Then her eyes snagged on a man on the other side of the field. His back was to her, so all she could see was his black hair, his broad shoulders. He seemed to be interested in the HamptonFest table, with Hank Donato standing next to him, talking and gesturing around the market. The man seemed to be listening intently, nodding as he slowly turned around.

Ohmygod . It was Lord Magnus.

Okay, not really. But it might as well have been. He had the same dark hair, deep green eyes. And his smile was electric, like it was lit up by some internal force. Then he cocked his head ever so slightly, as if he somehow knew someone was watching him, and turned those green eyes to her.

Oh. Oh . Lizzy was definitely not hallucinating. Not only was he real—he was staring right at her. And she was suddenly aware that her Guns N’ Roses vintage Appetite for Destruction T-shirt had seen better days.

Her brain scrambled, synapses trying desperately to connect, to figure out what to do next, but then her view was gone, blocked by someone stepping into her line of sight. A tall, blond someone who needed a haircut and personality transplant.

Lizzy’s expression fell.

It was Will Darcy.

He was standing just a foot or so away from their table, surveying the farmers market with a look that lived somewhere between derision and boredom, and she found the heat in her core now felt more like annoyance. She was about to lean forward and tell him that if he really had to stand there and brood, to please do it three feet to the left, when Charlie appeared at his side.

“Hello!” He beamed.

Jane spun around from where she was taking inventory of the mocha chip muffins. The motion was so fast Lizzy thought she would fall over into the nearby ginger peach scones. “Charlie! Hi!”

Charlie’s smile broadened, and it was another minute before he noticed Lizzy there, too, sitting behind the table. “Oh, Lizzy! Good to see you! Will, look! It’s Lizzy!”

Will only glanced at her before letting his gaze continue across the crowd.

Lizzy was almost grateful for the excuse to ignore him, waving at Charlie as if his friend wasn’t there at all. “How are you, Charlie?”

“I’m great! Better now,” he said warmly.

Jane blushed. “I… I didn’t expect you to stop by.”

“Well, you told me I had to try your muffins, so here I am!”

Lizzy couldn’t stop the laugh that bubbled up. She coughed, trying to disguise it, but she apparently didn’t do a very good job because when she looked up again, Will was glaring at her.

“So what do you have?” Charlie continued, oblivious.

Jane began to walk him through the litany of flavors. “Well, there’s lemon poppy seed and blueberry and zucchini. And my favorite: sour cherry.”

She picked one up and handed it to him. He didn’t hesitate in taking a bite, crumbs dusting his chin as his eyes rolled closed.

Lizzy knew that look, the moment when the flavor hitting a customer’s taste buds exceeded their expectations. It happened the first time she’d tried one of their sour cherry muffins, too. No one could remember which Bennet came up with the recipe—her father claimed it was his invention, while Jane insisted it was her mistake after she used almond extract instead of vanilla—but either way, they were so popular they practically kept the lights on.

“You have good taste,” he said, still chewing. “This is incredible.”

“Oh, it’s not just me. It’s everyone’s favorite,” Jane said, tugging a strand of dark hair behind her ear.

“Will, you have to try this,” Charlie said to his friend, then turned back to Jane. “Can I get one more?”

Jane opened her mouth to answer, but Lizzy beat her to it, leaning forward in her chair and blocking the sign that identified the long row of sour cherry muffins. “Sorry, that was the last one.”

Will watched the motion, pointedly looking between her and the baked goods she was doing a poor job of hiding. She offered him another plastic smile.

“Oh, too bad.” Charlie clasped his friend on the shoulder. “You’re missing out, Will.”

“We can only hope he survives the hardship,” Lizzy said with a painfully manufactured sigh.

Jane laughed so loud and so nervously that everyone turned to look at her, including a few people passing by.

“How much do I owe you?” Charlie asked, nodding to what was left of his muffin.

“Don’t worry, it’s on the house,” Lizzy said.

“I insist.” He reached into his pocket and handed her a five-dollar bill. “And don’t worry about change. This muffin is worth at least double that.” Then he took another bite.

Lizzy smiled, slipping the money into the cash box before turning to her sister. “Jane, have you volunteered to show Charlie around the farmers market yet?”

Her sister blanched, mouth falling open. “Oh… I… I’m sure Charlie has other things to do…”

“I would love that,” Charlie said, ignoring the fact that she was tripping over her words. “If you’d like that, I mean.”

“Sure. Yes… okay,” Jane said, a deep flush crawling up her neck as she turned around, awkwardly looking for her tote bag before realizing it was still over her shoulder. Then she finally looked up to meet his gaze again. “Ready?”

They stared at each other, and for a moment Lizzy wasn’t sure if Charlie would wait for Jane to walk around the table or if he would just lean across it and kiss her. But finally he said, “You lead the way.” Jane smiled. Then she stepped around the table, and together they made their way into the crowd.

It was finally happening—Jane was falling for someone. Her last date had been two years ago, and Lizzy had started thinking her sister was embracing celibacy. Now she wanted to jump up and celebrate, high-five someone or at least share a thumbs-up. But as she looked around, she realized there was no one to share her excitement with. Well, not no one. The blond palm tree hater who had unceremoniously blocked her view a few minutes before was still there. He was staring down at the line of sour cherry muffins separating them, and she was fairly certain it would be impossible for him to muster excitement over anything.

So instead of trying, she delved back into her book. She was just getting to the part where Lord Magnus was about to tear off Adrianna’s dragon-skin corset when Will’s voice finally broke the silence.

“It’s a shame.”

Oh God. Was Will Darcy making small talk? Lizzy hated small talk. Especially when Adrianna was running her fingers through Lord Magnus’s dark hair.

She glanced up at him, hand over her eyes to shield them from the sun.

“About the cherry muffins,” he said.

Lizzy waited for him to continue. When he didn’t, she offered him a tight smile and returned to her book.

“You were out of them the other day, too,” he finally said. “When Charlie and I stopped by the bakery.”

“Oh, that’s what you’re talking about,” she replied, not taking her eyes off the page. “I didn’t know if you had a question or if you were looking for me to support your astute observation.”

“Then you should have asked me to clarify.”

She sighed. “It’s okay. Once I realized I didn’t really care either way, ignoring you altogether seemed like the best option.”

His eyes narrowed on her, like someone looking at an instruction manual written in a foreign language. “I see.”

She offered him another smile. “Feel free to ignore me, too. I won’t be offended.”

“All right.”

Then he reached over and grabbed one of the sour cherry muffins.

Lizzy’s mouth was agape in equal parts shock and horror as Will maintained eye contact, his blue eyes locked on hers, and took a huge bite. It was like a challenge, as if he expected her to admit the lie, to apologize.

Well, he obviously didn’t know Lizzy. She would rather go over and eat a whole serving of Marv’s pickle cotton candy. So she snapped her mouth shut and just lifted her chin as she watched the line of his jaw move as he chewed, the way his throat bobbed when he finally swallowed.

They were still staring at each other when an angry chant began on the other end of the field.

“THAT’S BULLSHIT! GET OFF IT! OUR ISLAND’S NOT FOR PROFIT!”

A small group of protesters appeared in the crowd, with Mary at the front, holding a canvas banner that read: Save Gretna Island . They were marching toward Hank Donato and his HamptonFest table.

Oh God.

Lizzy didn’t have time to cringe before Mary threw the first liquid-filled balloon. Where she grabbed it from, Lizzy had no idea. All she knew was that it hit the HamptonFest banner with a thunderous crack, exploding on contact and sending red paint in every direction. It was followed by more, each in quick succession, until the entire table was covered in Benjamin Moore’s Hot Tamale.

People were running in every direction, yelling for them to stop, screaming for really no reason at all other than the fact that they had been standing too close and now looked as if they were extras in a Quentin Tarantino movie.

When Lizzy looked back at Will, he was watching Mary with his holier-than-thou glare in place.

“That’s one of your sisters, right?” he asked.

She frowned. “Yup.”

He watched for another minute, and Lizzy could almost feel the judgment radiating from him.

“She’s got good aim,” he finally replied, tossing a five-dollar bill onto the table. Then he took another bite of his muffin and turned toward the parking lot.

She narrowed her eyes at him, mentally cataloging a dozen biting retorts. But in the end, she decided to keep her mouth shut and just watch him disappear from view. She’d save them for next time.