Taking a long swig of my beer, I debate which excuse to use this time.
Once I swallow, I smile at Ari and say gently, “I’m not sure. My schedule’s been pretty busy lately with some extra training at the station, and I have a conference coming up next weekend?—”
“But she’s here now,” Ari interjects. She angles her head towards the entrance, where two women bundled in puffer coats, thick scarves, and fuzzy hats are standing just inside the door, surveying the busy bar. One of them gestures to an empty table in the far corner, and the other glances at it before giving a quick nod of agreement.
“How can you even tell who that is?” Shea asks, following Ari’s gaze. “You can barely see her face.”
“Her hat. We were talking about it the other day while we were walking into the building. I asked Darcy where she got it, and she said she knitted it herself. Can you believe that? It looks like something you’d buy at Divine Designs. And she’s so nice, she offered to make me…”
But the instant I hear the name Darcy, my mind jolts with recognition.
Darcy. A name I can never hear without remembering.
And hearing it in Sleepy Hollow, the very place I met her, brings an avalanche of memories falling after it.
Our first date in high school, my first date ever, shyly reaching for her hand as we walked into the movie theater.
Dancing with her at prom, feeling so incredibly lucky to have the most gorgeous girl in the room wrapped in my arms.
Giving her a promise ring the night before I left for college, already imagining us getting married one day.
Believing I’d found theoneup until that miserable day she broke up with me.
“Mike?” Concern pulls Ari’s brows into a little V. “You okay?”
I jerk myself back to the present and flash her a smile that almost feels real. “Of course. Why?”
She hesitates. Her gaze scans my face. “You just looked…” Another pause. “You know, never mind what I said about Darcy. If you’re not interested in dating, I won’t suggest it anymore.”
Beside her, Cash snorts.
She elbows him. “What? I won’t.”
But whatever Cash says in response fades into the background as the woman—Darcy—takes off her hat.
Long blonde hair falls past her shoulders, the color of honey with streaks of amber running through it.
Then she unwinds her scarf, revealing her face.
A face I can’t forget even after sixteen years.
Though she’s halfway across the bar, I can’t miss her distinctive features. Expressive eyes framed by long lashes and elegantly arching eyebrows. High cheekbones flushed from the cold, accented by full lips and a delicate chin. And while she’s not looking in my direction, I could describe the exact shade of her eyes—a deep evergreen flecked with bits of gold and amber.
As she shrugs off her coat and hangs it on the back of her seat, I keep staring at her.
I catalog the familiar curve of her breasts and flaring hips, slightly fuller than I remember, which makes sense since she’s thirty-eight now, instead of twenty-two. I steal a glance at her legs, slender and toned in a pair of dark jeans, and as she turns, I catch a glimpse of her still-very-pert ass.
Shit. She looks great.
Not that it’s bad. But it would be easier to see her again if she didn’t look so much like I remember. So much like the womanI turned my heart over to, only to end up with it smashed into pieces.
But that’s ancient history. Practically twenty years ago.
Whatever happened back then doesn’t matter anymore.
Except.
When she turns and sees me, her eyes flaring with recognition, it feels like I’m back in high school again.
