Darcy’s mouth fell open. “Are you kidding me?”
The rage simmering in her stomach only burned hotter when she glimpsed the irritation in his eyes. “Hold that thought, baby girl,” he drawled to the other woman. “I’ve gotta take care of something.”
Baby girl?
Darcy had never been more insulted in her life as Reed drifted to the far edge of the bar, gesturing for her to follow. Her hands trembled and her throat closed up, hurt and anger forming a lethal cocktail inside her.
“What the hell is going on?” she demanded once they were out of the brunette’s earshot.
He had the nerve to look confused. “I’m just talking to a customer.”
“Talking?” she echoed in disbelief. “You’re hitting on that woman!”
Reed paused. Then he twisted the knife harder. “Yeah. I guess I am.”
A volatile wave of emotion slammed into her chest. She was horrified and humiliated to feel tears stinging her eyes, and she blinked wildly to keep them at bay. “What’s going on, Reed?” she whispered. “What is this?”
It was early enough in the night that the music was at a normal level, and she knew he heard her anguished plea.
He responded with a light shrug. “I think this is the fling running its course, babe.”
Her heart plummeted to the pit of her stomach like a sack of bricks. “Are you serious?”
Another pause. Then he nodded.
Darcy was speechless. She stared at him, trying desperately to understand what was happening. She’d come here to tell this man she loved him, and now he was telling her it was over?
“It was bound to happen, Darce. I mean, you said so yourself, this was never going to lead to a relationship.”
His tone was so nonchalant she almost picked up an empty glass from the counter and hurled it at his smug, unfeeling face.
“I think it’s time we both moved on to greener and better pastures,” Reed said with another infuriating shrug.
And then, right in front of her wide eyes, he had the nerve to tilt his head in the brunette’s direction and shoot Darcy a wink.
As if they were two bros talking about scoring a hot lay for the evening.
“Are you kidding me?”
This time the incredulous shout came not from Darcy, but from Skyler, who appeared behind them just in time to catch Reed’s last remark and thoughtless grin.
Reed looked annoyed again. “What now?”
The younger woman charged forward and wrapped a protective arm around Darcy’s shoulders. “You’re a real bastard, Reed, you know that?” Skyler sounded livid as she glowered at him.
“Hell. This is why flings are such stupidly terrible ideas.” Reed sighed as he addressed Darcy. “Look, we had our fun, okay? Now it’s time to call it a day and have fun with other people.”
With that, he strode off in the direction of the brunette.
He didn’t look back. Not even once.
Darcy made a valiant effort not to cry, biting her lip so hard the metallic taste of blood filled her mouth.
“Oh my God,” Skyler murmured. “I can’t believe…” She gave Darcy’s shoulder a comforting squeeze. “I’m so sorry, Darce. I want you to forget every single word I said back at your place. He’s not worth it. I promise you, he’s not worth it.”
Her entire body had gone numb. Her gaze stayed fixed on Reed, who was once again leaning over the counter, a devilish grin playing on his lips as he flirted with another woman. When he reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind the brunette’s ear, Darcy’s heart officially shattered into a million pieces.
“Will you drive me home?” she blurted out.
Sympathy swam in Skyler’s eyes. “Oh, Darce.”
“Please, Sky.” She gritted her teeth so hard her molars ached. “Just take me home.”
With a nod, Skyler tightened her grip around her shoulders and quietly led her away from the bar.
Chapter Sixteen
A dark cloud loomed over him. No, wait. Make that two dark clouds.
Reed squinted from his perch on the couch, his head spinning like a carousel as he tried to bring his eyes into focus. The two figures above him slowly merged into one, as his double vision snapped back to normal. Christ. It felt like someone was pounding his temples with a chisel. How much had he had to drink last night?
A lot.
No kidding, he almost snapped at the sardonic inner voice. But even the act of thinking it made his head hurt, and a wave of nausea swept over him in response.
“Get up.”
The icy command was uttered by a familiar voice, and though it hadn’t been loud, to his aching head it sounded like a banshee’s shriek.
“Lower your voice,” he groaned, reaching up to rub his throbbing temples.