Chapter 46
DARCY
I couldn’t go backto sleep. It was too bright and hot, and the continuous buildup of nausea made it nearly impossible to relax. Instead, I stumbled to the bathroom, my hand on my head, hunched over like the Hunchback of Notre Dame character. I turned on the shower and let the whole room steam up before I stepped inside.
The water flowed over me, and I closed my eyes. There was something so relaxing about having a shower after a night of drinking. It seemed like a fresh start. I took my time, washing my hair with the Dove shampoo the inn stocked and cleaned under my eyes where I knew the mascara had taken up residence. I was rinsing out the conditioner when I heard the door close.
I stood frozen, my hands on top of my head. It was either Penn or one of the housekeepers, and if it were one of them, I would never live down being in Penn Murphy’s shower. I kept quiet, hoping they would think that it was Penn in the shower and leave as quickly as they came, but I heard the door to the bathroom creak open, and I held my breath.
“Hey, Darcy. It’s me.” Penn’s voice came from the door. “I just wanted to let you know I’m back.”
“Oh, uh, yeah,” I said, sputtering water from my mouth. “Thanks. I’m almost done.”
I didn’t look out of the curtain. I didn’t even have to see his face for my heart to beat faster, and that I didn’t like. The mere fact that the sound of his voice had the ability to send my body into full-blown electric shock was definitely not a good sign.
“Take your time,” he replied before he shut the door, and I put my face in the hot water, trying to drown the fact that the goosebumps on my arms popped up just from hearing his voice.
I finished up and wrapped my hair in a towel, then got dressed in my clean clothes from the night before. I was thankful I had chosen a comfortable jumper to wear out because I thought I might die if I had to put on a pair of jeans. When I was finished, I used the towel to dry my hair as much as possible and combed through it with my fingers before heading out.
“I brought coffee.” Penn held up a cup, and I walked over to take it.
“Thank you.” I inhaled, feeling my body relax slightly from the scent. I was embarrassed, unable to look him in the eye, and wondering how to break the tension.
“Are you feeling okay?” he asked, taking a seat in the chair.
I climbed onto the bed, sitting with my legs crossed under me. “Define okay,” I said, taking a sip. “I feel a little better but still pretty crummy.” I looked down, staring at the cup in my hand and fidgeting with my fingers. I inhaled deeply, I needed to just rip off the Band-Aid. “Thank you...for taking care of me. You didn’t have to do that.”
Penn shrugged. “I wanted to.”
I caught his eye and licked my lips. “I don’t normally get that hammered, by the way. It’s the first time I’ve ever won that.” I gestured to the hat and sword.
Penn looked over at it, then back to me. “You said that...a couple of times,” he chuckled. “And Peyton told me all about the award while we waited for her Uber. I’m just glad you called me.”
I forgot Peyton had taken my phone and called him. “How did you get to us? Isn’t your car still with Tandy?”
Penn’s gaze went to his lap. “I may or may not have asked the guy down the hall if I could borrow his car.”
I cackled. “And he let you?”
“Yeah, Mr. Yamiro and I have become pretty good friends. We play cards sometimes.” Penn took a drink and a slight side smile creeped up on his face.
I grinned back. “Well, I must send Mr. Yamiro a thank-you card.”
“He’d like that. He’s old school. All about handwritten notes and none of this text messaging crap, or so he says.” Penn repositioned. “So, do you remember anything about last night?”
I squinted my eyes and scrunched my nose. “Hmm, I feel like I remember singing the Beach Boys, but I am really hoping that was just a nightmare.”
Penn laughed. “Oh, no. That one hundred percent happened. You are quite the singer.”
I placed one of my hands over my eyes. “No, seriously? Which song?”
“Well, this was a hot topic of debate. You sang the song ‘Barbara Ann.’”
My eyebrows closed in, and I tilted my head. “‘Barbara Ann?’ I don’t know that song.”
Penn pulled his lips together and took out his phone. He began playing a familiar song.
“Ohhhh, yeah! This song. But it’s ‘Bobberann.’ What did you call it?”
Penn took in a deep breath and exhaled. “This was the big argument last night. It’s ‘Barbara Ann.’ That’s the song.”
I shook my head. “No. It’s”—I began singing—“Bobberrr—aaannnn . . . ”
“What is a bobberann? And why would it be taking their hand?”
I thought for a moment. “Heck if I know.”
“Exactly, that’s why it’s Barbara Ann. It was named after a girl. Listen.”
He played the song again. Both of us were mouthing the words, and when it was finished, he clicked it off, and I raised my eyebrows.
“I don’t know; all I’m hearing is bobberann.”
“I can’t in good conscience let you go on believing that,” Penn replied.
I shrugged. “I guess we’ll have to agree to disagree.”
Penn and I laughed together, and as it died down, his face grew serious, and I avoided his eye contact. I could feel things changing between us, and I didn’t want to admit it. I didn’t want to admit that maybe he wasn’t such a bad guy after all.
“So, why did you call me last night, Darcy?”