Hiring Mr. Darcy - Valerie Bowman Page 0,62

Lacey Lewis does?” I countered.

He sighed and paced away from me. “I’ve spent most of the summer teaching Lacey. You’ve only spent two weeks with this Neanderthal.”

“Oh, my God. You’re such a snob. He’s not a Neanderthal, and I—”

The door to the shop flew open and Jeremy strode out, anger making his features harsh. He faced Harrison and cracked his knuckles. “Hey, Dr. Asshole, I can hear you, and while I’m not a Neanderthal, I’d be more than willing to punch you in your pompous face if you continue to insult Meg.”

“I did not insult Meg,” Harrison insisted, but I noticed that he’d taken a step back.

“Yes, you did. Telling her she doesn’t know what she’s getting into is an insult to her intelligence, and I think we both know how smart she is.”

“It’s okay, Jeremy,” I said.

“Frankly, I don’t think either one of you have thought this through adequately,” Harrison said, crossing his arms over his chest and glaring at both of us.

“That’s not for you to decide,” Jeremy replied. His fist remained clenched at his side.

Lacey stepped through the door with two large garment bags of Harrison’s clothing draped over each arm. “Let’s go, Harry. You’re wasting your time arguing with them.”

“Meg, please,” Harrison said. “Reconsider this. Be smart.” He looked me in the eye.

“I’ll take it into consideration, Harry,” I said with as much sarcasm I could muster.

The two of them walked away. They put the bags in the backseat of the Audi, climbed in and purred off.

Mitchell came hurrying outside with Ms. Julia under his arm. “I’m so sorry, y’all. Who knew that nerdy Dr. Macomb of all people would make a scene?”

Jeremy stood watching them drive off, his knuckles still flexing and relaxing. “Damn it, Meg. I can’t wait to get to England, enter this competition, and beat his ass.”

Chapter 20

Wednesday

I severely underestimated the awkwardness of taking a transcontinental flight with a super-hot guy. Earplugs, an eye mask, travel sickness medication, and a neck pillow aren’t exactly a sexy combo. Clutching the armrest and yelping every time the plane hit turbulence probably wasn’t the most attractive trait either, but Jeremy actually grabbed my hand and squeezed it reassuringly each time that happened, which made me feel better, even if he was thinking I was a nut.

The good news was that while we were flying economy, which meant we were cramped together, we were also flying so early (USA-time) that we could sleep. I’d specifically changed my ticket and purchased Jeremy’s ticket on a flight that was not the same one as Harrison’s and Lacey’s. That would be too much. We were sure to have a lot of uncomfortable run-ins at the festival, and I wanted to stay as far away from them as possible until then. I’d changed the flights before our encounter at Mitchell’s, but now I was even more glad that I had.

Harrison was being a class-A jerk. I mean, he probably really thought he was doing me a favor by warning me to stay home, but it felt like he was being a condescending asshole, and calling Jeremy a Neanderthal was unacceptable. I knew Jeremy was judging me a little for not dumping him immediately, but a rude warning and the failure to tell Lacey Lewis to shut up when she said a maxi dress wasn’t my best look (and she was kinda right) weren’t enough for me to toss nearly three years down the drain. But Harrison and I definitely needed to talk after the competition was over...and set things straight.

Jeremy and I managed the flights to New York and then London quite well for a couple who’d barely traveled across town with each other, let alone across the Atlantic Ocean. Jeremy, it turned out, didn’t get cranky when traveling the way that I (cough, cough) tend to. He always seemed fresh and rested, while ten hours in, I felt like a mix between The Creature from the Black Lagoon and a used Kleenex. I was also eighty-seven-percent certain I smelled like a foot. A dirty foot. A dirty, sweaty foot. A dirty, sweaty hobbit foot. But Jeremy managed to find our route via Heathrow into London’s Paddington station, where we had to change trains, and then onto Bath. We arrived in the lovely, hilly town less than two hours later. It was close to six p.m.

“I read about England’s extensive canal system,” Jeremy said as the taxi meandered through the winding streets of Bath. I smiled at him weakly, but