The Wrong Mr. Darcy - Evelyn Lozada Page 0,58
her head, trying to control her anxiety in the dim, stuffy corridor.
Then, Derek Darcy jogged up to the security guards next to her.
“O’Donnell told me to meet him after the game. Is he still in the owners’ box?” he barked at the guards.
Hara blinked, tried to step back, but there was a wall behind her. She edged slowly sideways, not wanting to attract attention.
“Nope,” said a door guard. “He beat feet right after the lights went out.”
Three team assistants were behind the ballplayer, providing a barrier between him and the shuffling throng of ticket holders. In the low flickering light, wearing a beanie cap, quilted jacket, and sweats over his uniform, Derek went unnoticed by the bystanders. Why would a player be out here, with the hoi polloi?
His eyes widened when he caught sight of Hara. “I thought you left.” Then, “I’m looking for Charles, too. Is he up there? Is Tina?”
“Um. No. Tina left before I did. I haven’t seen Charles. But I did see him push you at the end of the game. That was—”
“Hey!” It was Eddie, his eyes bugging out, his hair looking extra red in the gloom. He skidded to a stop next to her, not realizing he was about to get taken out by an amped-up security guard.
“It’s okay, I know him,” Hara told the guards and assistants, hoping they cared what the random girl talking to their player had to say on the matter.
Eddie, still impervious to the people closing in around him, said, “I’m glad I found you! Friggin’ pissa out there. Let me give you a ride. You can crash at my place.”
“Hara, you need a ride?” Derek asked, looming over her, his eyebrows knitted together.
“I—”
“Oh geez. Darcy.” The red-bearded man blushed. “I mean, Mr. Darcy. I’m sorry, I didn’t see you there.”
Most nonobservant reporter ever.
Darcy threw his chin at the reporter but said to Hara, “I’ve got my SUV. I can get you where you need to go.”
Hara swallowed, her throat clicking with dryness.
Then her phone vibrated with a message. She read it and frowned. “That’s not good.” She looked up at Derek, who folded his arms impatiently. “It’s Naomi. The girl you saved from Tina at the bar? You gave her a ride home”—just before he’d almost kissed Hara and then blew her off—“I’m staying with her, but she has no power, and I guess her place is full of smoke, thanks to a small fire in the restaurant below her.”
“You’re not at O’Donnell’s? Never mind. Come on.” Derek grabbed her hand and pulled her down the causeway, Eddie and the team assistants jogging alongside.
“Hey! Hey, let go of me!”
He stopped. “We need to leave if we’re going to go get Naomi.”
“Use your words, man.” She tugged her hand free.
“Do you, or do you not, want to go to Naomi’s?”
“Well, yes…”
Eddie puffed up, stroking his beard nervously. “Don’t do that! I’ve got a fireplace, you’ll be warm and safe—”
“Can your car drive through high water?”
“No.”
She turned to Derek, grimacing. Before she spoke, she had to swallow again, trying to clear the gigantic, dry slice of pride caught halfway down her throat. “I’m sorry I mocked your jacked-up SUV. Would you maybe be willing to get Naomi and take her somewhere?”
After Derek nodded, she turned and patted the redheaded reporter on the shoulder. “Thanks, Eddie. I know you’re trying to help. But Derek has an SUV.” Plus, she didn’t really know Eddie; maybe he was a serial killer aiming to stock his freezer. Better the devil you know.
“Let’s go!” Derek started moving again. “I want nothing more than to spend my evening, driving through water-covered roads and ferrying you about.”
“You offered! Never mind, then.” She planted her feet. Serial killer it is.
The basketball player didn’t turn around, just kept walking. One of the assistants looked back to see if she was following, raised a quizzical eyebrow.
“I will say it again,” Eddie, next to her, stage-whispered. “How is it you know these fuckin’ guys? I mean, Darcy is your chauffeur?”
Hara shrugged and said goodbye. She could feel Eddie’s stare crawl across her back.
“Jerk,” she grumbled, reluctantly trying to catch up to Derek’s receding figure. Once again, though, she shoved her ego down. She was a total masochist, obviously. He could help her, and Naomi, so she supposed she could put up with Derek’s arrogance for a while longer. Who else was she going to call? Madeline?
She was at Derek’s side by the time they reached an entrance leading into the private,