Chapter Fifteen
“What the hell are you doing here?”
Not a very polite opener, I know, but bear with me. Standing in front of me, holding a pint of something dark and staring back at my face in equal shock, was Nick Baskerville. Thank Christ Darcy was on the other side of the room, safely out of the way.
Nick opened his mouth to speak, but then I saw his eyes flick down to take in my outfit, and words apparently failed him.
For some reason I felt my face flush, which was completely ridiculous, given this was a man who hated my favorite genre of books and thought Mr. Darcy was emotionally manipulative.
Still, I couldn’t deny Nick was looking pretty cute himself, dressed in jeans and a box-fresh white T-shirt that showed off his toned chest and arms.
He stared at me for a moment longer, his eyes dark.
“If it isn’t my number one shoplifter.” His deadpan words didn’t quite match the color in his cheeks.
“Hello, misogynist bookseller. You haven’t answered my question.”
“What am I doing here? I was invited.”
“By who?” Again, rude, but these were exceptional circumstances.
“Steve and I were at university together.”
I must have frowned, because Nick raised an eyebrow.
“You don’t believe me? What, you think I’m the one stalking you now?”
“No, you don’t strike me as the stalking type,” I admitted. “But you also don’t strike me as the rugby-playing, six-pint-drinking, secretly-crying-at-Jerry-Maguire type that Steve usually hangs out with either.”
The eyebrow went higher. “So what type do I strike you as?”
“I don’t know. I imagine you sitting at home on a Friday night, angrily reading Proust and smoking those smelly French cigarettes.”
“Well, you’re wrong there: I only read Proust on Saturdays, and I haven’t touched a Gauloises in years.”
I accidentally laughed and then kicked myself.
Nick smiled. “Can I get you a drink?”
I was about to say no and move away when I heard a familiar voice to my right.
Shit, was that Darcy at the bar? I couldn’t let Nick see him, because if I was right and Nick knew that the copy of Pride and Prejudice I’d stolen had magic “bring Mr. Darcy to life” powers, then the second Nick heard him speak, he might work out exactly who Darcy was and where he’d come from.
And if that happened, then Nick would know I’d deliberately been keeping Darcy a secret from him, and he was bound to confront Darcy, who would then find out I’d lied to him about his identity, and then I’d lose Darcy for good just when I’d decided I wanted to be with him… Christ, this was a disaster!
“I’d love a drink, thanks,” I said, squeezing myself into the space at the bar on Nick’s left.
He looked surprised at the sudden close contact, but my plan worked, as he turned his body toward me, blocking Darcy out with his back.
Over Nick’s shoulder, I could hear Darcy’s booming voice: “Four pints of your finest beer please, my good man.”
“So, how are things in the bookselling business?” I said quickly, in case Nick heard Darcy and turned around. “Sold any good dick lit lately?”
“Dick lit?”
Oops, probably not the best question to go with. “It’s what Bianca and I call the kind of books you sell in your shop. You know, novels written by men about spies and terrorists and shit.”
The corner of his mouth quirked up. “Spies and terrorists and shit? That’s not all I sell, you know.”
“OK, well, it’s certainly the vibe your front window gives off. It’s like you’re deliberately trying to repel women from your shop.”
I expected him to come back with some snarky reply, but instead, the hint of a smile that had been there seconds ago disappeared and he went quiet.
“On second thought, may I prevail upon you for the loan of a tray, for I fear my hands will not carry all of these?” I heard Darcy say, and it sounded like he’d moved closer along the bar.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you,” I said, tucking myself in tighter to Nick so that Darcy wouldn’t see me over his shoulder.
We were so close now that I had to tilt my head back to look up at Nick. God, this man was tall. He looked down at me, and I saw his jaw twitch.
“You didn’t offend me,” he said, his voice thick. “I’ve just never heard someone refer to my shop as selling ‘dick lit’ before.”
“If it makes you feel any better, you’re in good company. Hatchards is pretty dick litty too, and they’re the oldest bookshop in London.”
I saw that flicker of a smile again.
“I want to defend myself, but sadly I think there’s probably some truth in your theory,” he said. “I hosted a book launch the other week that was almost exclusively attended by white men wearing chinos, so I think that probably qualifies me under your dick lit criteria.”
“Oh yes, which book was that?”
“It was Shadows of Albion by a debut author named Crispin Carter.”
By now you know what happens when I hear that name. But this time, my face must have fallen as well as my heart, because I saw Nick’s brow furrow.
“Have you read it?”
I resisted the temptation to scream, Yes, I’ve sodding read it, I pretty much wrote the thing. Instead, I took a deep breath. “I have, as a matter of fact.”
“Really? I have to say, I’m surprised. I’m fairly sure there’s no romance in it.”
“I don’t just read romance novels, thank you very much,” I said tartly, and he smiled properly then, his eyes twinkling.
“I stand corrected. So, what did you think of Shadows of Albion?”
“I mean, I thought it was pretty well written,” I said lamely.
“High praise indeed. I have to be honest, I don’t think I’m going to bother reading it, given the author was such a monumental prick.”
Oh, now that made me smile. “Are you trying to tell me you didn’t love Crispin ‘Voice of a Generation’ Carter?”
“‘Void of a Generation,’ more like. The man was so far up his own arse—you should have heard the utter shite that came out of his mouth. Plus, he has this weird little beard that looked like—”
“A vulva,” I interrupted, stealing Bianca’s line from last week, and Nick threw his head back and laughed.
“Absolutely that! The beard was 100 percent pubic.”
“Yeah, Crispin never looked good in a beard.”
Nick stopped laughing and looked down at me again. “So you know him?”
Crap, what was I supposed to say now? I could hardly deny it. “Sort of. I mean, we dated a while ago.”
“You dated the Void!” Both Nick’s eyebrows shot up in such a comedic fashion that I had to laugh.
“Afraid so. And I can definitely confirm that he’s a monumental prick.”
Nick shook his head. “Wow, you really have terrible taste in men, don’t you?”
“Why do you say that?”
“Well, Crispin Carter, Fitzwilliam Darcy… You seem to go for those pompous, self-involved types.”
I winced, hoping that Darcy had moved away from the bar and hadn’t just heard Nick slagging him off.
“Sorry, I know you don’t like it when I insult Darcy,” Nick said, his voice softening. “In fact, I promise never to mention him or bloody Pride and Prejudice in your presence again.”
“What makes you think you’ll ever be in my presence again?”
I meant it as an innocent question, but as soon as I said it, I realized how flirty it sounded.
Nick must have heard it, too, because I saw his pupils dilate.
For a second our eyes were locked, and I suddenly became very aware of how close we were to each other.
What the hell was I doing? This was a man I hated—a man who thought the great Jane Austen wrote two-dimensional characters and who wanted to burn Pride and Prejudice.
I needed to get the hell away from him and those strangely magnetic blue e—
“Oh my God, here you are!”
Bianca’s voice jolted me, and I hurriedly stepped away from Nick. When I turned around, my best friend was standing in front of me, looking absolutely incredible in a bright-orange dress.
“I wondered where you were hiding,” she said, stepping forward and giving me a tight hug. Then she stood back and turned to Nick, eyeing him up appraisingly. “So, you must be Zoe’s new mystery man.”
I waited for Nick to correct her and make it clear that he was definitely not my anything, but he just smiled at her.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Bianca. I’ve heard a lot about you.”
What? Why had he just said that? I opened my mouth to speak, but Bianca got there first.
“All good, I hope? Because Zoe has been very secretive about you.”
“Oh my God, Nick is not my mystery man,” I said, perhaps a bit too emphatically, because I saw a slight frown flutter across his face.
“Oh?” Bianca said, wrinkling her nose. “But the two of you were looking so cozy just now.”
“Nick is an old uni friend of Steve’s,” I said. “He’s also the owner of Baskerville Books, which is how I know him.”
“Baskerville Books?” Bianca said, then her eyes flashed with delight as the penny dropped. “Oh, so you’re the misogynist dick lit bookseller?”
“At your service, ma’am,” Nick said, giving a mock bow, and I rolled my eyes but couldn’t help smiling.
“Oh, so Zoe actually hates you. How disappointing,” Bianca said, but there was something in the way she was looking at me that made me squirm. “Where is this Will guy, then? Did you bring him?”
“Yeah, he’s here somewhere,” I said. “So, are you having fun? The place looks amazing, and I haven’t had any food yet but—”
“Stop trying to change the conversation, Zoe Knight,” Bianca said. “I want to meet this date of yours. Where is he?”
“I dunno, maybe he’s gone to the toilet? Why don’t I go and find him now. Nice to see you again Ni—”
“Ah, Zoe, there you are!”
I froze, and for a moment the only part of me that seemed to be moving was my heart, which was suddenly hammering against my chest very, very rapidly.
I looked around slowly, hoping I’d made a mistake and it was just one of B’s relatives coming to say hello.
But no, there he was: Mr. Darcy, holding a pint, smiling as he walked toward me.
“Well, hell-o,” Bianca whispered in my ear.
“Hi, Will,” I said, my voice a squeak.
“I have been looking for you everywhere,” Darcy said as he reached us. He saw Bianca and clearly recognized her from the photos in my flat, because he smiled. “You must be the bride.”
“Guilty as charged. It’s good to finally meet you.”
Darcy leaned forward and gave her a kiss on either cheek, a move I can only imagine he’d learned from Love Island. Then his eyes moved over my shoulder to the man I knew was still standing behind me.
“Good evening. I am Will. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”
Nick didn’t immediately answer, and although I couldn’t see his face, I found I was holding my breath.
“Nick Baskerville. A pleasure to make your acquaintance, too, Will.”
Oh fuck. Again.