Pride and Papercuts (The Austens #5) - Staci Hart Page 0,5
who weren’t good enough for her, who saw her for her status and not for the gift she was, and I wouldn’t give her up for anything less. The man who would win her would have to go through me.
Somehow, I doubted the shirtless bookstore manager with his hands on her had noble intentions. We’d be at Wasted Words often enough, and I’d find out. Maybe he’d surprise me.
But earning my trust wasn’t easy, and once lost, it was lost forever.
I looked around the bar so I wouldn’t burn a hole in Jett’s back, then turned to wander around. The concept of the place confounded me—a bookstore with a bar? I couldn’t find the appeal. They threw parties like this often, singles nights with themes, luring people in with drink specials and the promise of making a love match. Bars had never been my scene, nor had drinking as a sport. Themed parties to meet someone? Never in a thousand years. I had no regrets about leaving the offered wig at the door, not at all caring that I was the only person in the establishment without a Fabio wig on other than Fabio himself.
But that was why Georgie had brought me—my lack of understanding. And by brought, I meant forced. She was the account executive, the organizer and liaison between the firm and our client. She got Wasted Words and insisted I had to get it too. I, on the other hand, reminded her I didn’t have to understand it to sell it. But here I was anyway because Georgie had asked me to come, and now that I saw her with Jett, I made the unilateral decision to be here with her every chance I got, even if I didn’t have to be.
As the creative director, my job was behind the scenes, where I was most comfortable. I ran our team, building out plans, presenting work, creating ad and marketing concepts. We were opening new book bars in five major cities. And since Laney Bennet was the in-house social marketer, she was now part of my team—by request of the owners.
I was even less sure about that unfortunate fact than I had been before I walked in tonight.
Georgie made her way over to me, her cheeks high with a smile.
“What are you doing way back here?” she asked, taking my drink from my hand for a sip. “Come dance with us.”
“You know I hate dancing, especially in a place like this.”
“Anyone ever told you you’re the worst kind of snob?”
I shrugged, taking my drink back. “Know thyself.”
“Well, I think thyself needs to get out there and cut loose. You’re not going to really understand this place if you don’t participate.”
“I think I’ll manage.”
“What about Laney Bennet?” she asked, ignoring me. “You could stand to get to know her better.”
A jolt shot up my spine at the thought of dancing with her. “What, with my hands on her hips?” I hedged as she backed me toward a metaphorical corner.
“They don’t have to be on her hips. Come on—let’s go find her so you don’t have to stand on the edge of the dance floor alone with your scotch and boring hair,” she joked, taking my arm.
I didn’t budge. “Georgie, I’m going to say this once—Laney Bennet is perfectly tolerable. But she’s not like us. She’s not the kind of girl I would ever ask to dance, especially not in a bar to a Lionel Richie song. Ever. Do you understand?”
Georgie had gone stiff and still, I thought in response to the edge in my voice, sharpened by her insistence. But then I realized she wasn’t looking at me. She was looking behind me.
I followed her gaze and locked eyes with Laney Bennet, who was close enough to have heard what I’d said.
We shared a long look—mine hard, hers first bright with hurt, then hot with fury.
“Well,” Laney started with mock cheer, her cheeks flushed pink. Her smile cut like a razor. “Lucky for both of us, I only dance with men who think I’m sufficient or better. I wouldn’t want you to suffer unduly, Mr. Darcy, especially not to Lionel Richie. We both deserve better than that.”
And she turned on her heel to walk away.
Georgie sighed. “Way to go, Liam.”
“Me? You were the one who wouldn’t take no for an answer. When was the last time you successfully forced me into anything?”