Wild Embrace (Wilder Irish #11) - Mari Carr Page 0,12

narrowed her eyes. “I know you’re teasing me. But no. Not that time.”

“That time?”

“Actually,” Darcy blew out a long breath, “not any time. Yet,” she quickly added.

“Yeah well, heads up. I’m thirty-four and I haven’t gotten there yet, either.”

Darcy fell silent, especially when it was clear Ryder hadn’t meant to reveal so much about himself. This time when he picked up the vodka, he took a long drink, and she realized they’d put a pretty serious dent in the bottle. She had a million follow-up questions she wanted to ask about that revelation, but something about the sudden stiffness in his shoulders told her he wouldn’t answer them.

He’d been married, yet he claimed he’d never felt true love.

“Your turn,” she prodded, terrified he’d want to call a halt to the game when he glanced at his phone again, and she got the sense he was trying to pull away. The vodka and the distraction had helped her. If he decided he didn’t want to talk anymore, she’d have way too much time to remember…

Fuck.

Where they were.

She swallowed down the panic rising in her chest. She read the time on his phone. It was nearly eleven. They’d been stuck in the elevator almost two hours.

“Why did you choose to pursue a career in graphic arts?” Ryder asked at last, tucking the phone away again, and Darcy released a sigh of relief. They spent the next few minutes discussing their chosen majors in college, and she was able to beat down the fear once more.

Darcy took another sip of vodka. She’d drunk enough that she was going to have to call a rideshare to get home.

Then she considered her next question. There were countless things she wanted to ask, her curiosity piqued by his earlier comment about love, but she was more terrified of him calling the game to a halt if she asked something he wasn’t comfortable with. “What’s your ideal date?” she asked instead, playing it safe.

“I don’t date.”

Darcy thought back over the past four years and all the babysitting she’d done for him. Every single time Ryder had asked her to keep an eye on the boys, it was because he was working late.

“Ever?”

Ryder shook his head. “Work and the boys keep me too busy for dating.”

“That’s not true.” The words flew out before she could stop them.

Mercifully, Ryder didn’t take offense. “You’re right. It’s not true. I choose not to date.”

“Why?”

Ryder rubbed his eyes wearily. “I find most women date with marriage in mind. I’m not getting married again.”

“Ever?” Darcy tried to ignore the sudden pang in her heart when she realized Ryder definitely meant what he said.

“Ever. My life is uncomplicated. I like it that way.”

It wasn’t much of an answer, but then Darcy realized it was probably the truth and as much as she was going to get. Especially when Ryder turned the question around to her.

“And your ideal date?” he asked. “Roses? Candlelight? Soft music?”

She laughed. “You read me like a book. And yes, all that. I want to be picked up in a limousine.”

Ryder snorted. “A limo? Seriously?”

“It’s my ideal date, Ryder. I can have a limo if I want. Besides, I’ve never ridden in one and I’ve always wanted to.”

“You’ve never been in a limo? Not for prom or a wedding?”

Darcy shook her head. “Nope. Never. And I’m dying to.”

“So this dream guy—we’ll call him Westley—comes to pick you up in a limo. Then what?”

“We’ll drink champagne and tell the driver to put up the blackout screen so we can make out.”

“At the beginning of the date? Very nice.”

Darcy giggled, realizing the vodka was working its magic on both of them. She reached over and punched him on the arm playfully. “Anyway, he’ll take me back to his place for dinner. And it’ll be just like you said. Candlelight and roses, soft music. All through the meal, we’ll talk about our hopes and dreams for the future, then after dinner, we’ll dance in his living room and then…”

“Sex.” Ryder filled in the blank with just one word, and Darcy frowned, shaking her head.

“No. Not just sex. That’s the least imaginative way to describe it.”

“I suppose you prefer making love?”

His words didn’t bug Darcy as much as his tone. Because he’d never made it more clear he didn’t see her as a woman, but as the too-young babysitter who immaturely viewed the world through Princess Bride, rose-colored glasses.

Darcy considered all the things her sister, Sunnie, and her cousins, Caitlyn and Yvonne, had shared about