“No problem. My grandma won’t let me wear shoes in her house, either.”
Oh, great. I’m like his grandma. Speaking of non-sexy things...
I turned back to the living room, doing my best to hide my bare hobbit feet under my robe, just as Luke came out of the kitchen to join us.
“Hey, good to see you, Remington.” The two gave each other some sort of bro-handshake/back-slap thing that only heterosexual men do. Well, I’d never seen Harrison do it, but that wasn’t the point.
I gave Jeremy another sheepish smile and pointed a finger in the air. “Would you excuse me for just one sec?”
“Sure.” There was that knee-weakening smile again.
Tossing my brother a furious, how-could-you-do-this-to-me look, I hurried into the kitchen, set my mug on the counter, pulled my MacBook off the table, and spun it around. I pulled up Instagram and searched for my brother’s account. Finding it, I scrolled down, down, down. Yep, there. There was the hot guy from his Instagram feed. The one I’d been eyeing for months. It was Jeremy. I hadn’t made the connection until just now. Nice.
Luke came hurrying in. “What are you doing? Remington came here to talk to you, not me.”
“This is Jeremy!” I pointed an accusing finger at the screen.
“Yeah.” My brother gave me a “duh” look. “I told you that you must have seen him.”
My eyes widened, all the implications of this scenario falling into place. I hissed at him in a whisper, “The hot guy I’ve been fantasizing about for the last six months on your Instagram feed is poor little Jeremy from high school?”
Luke’s lips puckered and his eyes narrowed like he’d just eaten a raw egg. “Eww. I didn’t need to know that. But yes, that’s him. Always has been. And if you thought he was so hot, why didn’t you ask me about him?”
“I’m in a relationship!”
“With a gay guy!”
“Harrison’s not gay. He’s—”
“Look, are you going to argue with me in this kitchen all morning, or go out there and make a deal to turn Remington into a cravat-wearing English gent?”
My brother had a point. There was just one final thing to say. “If you tell him I said he was hot, I’ll murder you, cut you into small pieces, and dispose of you in such a manner that they’ll never find so much as a fingernail clipping.”
“Don’t worry, you sociopath. It icks me out to think about you finding him hot. Besides, I think he might have a girlfriend.”
“Good.” I popped into the hall bath by way of the kitchen to furiously rake my hands through my hair in front of the mirror. I splashed the morning funk out of my mouth with a handful of water, and ensured I didn’t have crust in my eyes. There was nothing I could do about my hobbit feet. All my socks were upstairs. Looking as presentable as I was going to get under the circumstances, I straightened my shoulders and marched back into the kitchen.
“Jeremy, would you like some coffee?” I called.
“No, thanks. Don’t drink the stuff.”
Well, that was unfortunate. “Okay.” I picked up my Pemberley mug again and made my way back into the living room.
Jeremy was sitting on the couch facing the bay window. Luke was sitting in the dark brown leather armchair to his left. I decided to sit in the gray velvet slipper chair on the right. No telling what was going on with my breath, even after the water splashing. That had merely been a stopgap measure.
“It’s been a long time,” Jeremy said. “Good to see you, Meg.”
“Yes, how long’s it been? Like ten years or something?” I replied.
“Only six. Or so. Remember that time I saw you in the airport in Chicago?”
“The airport? Chicago?” Er, no. I didn’t remember that.
“I was with my brother at O’Hare and we were— It doesn’t matter.” Jeremy shook his head.
“Meg says you look different than she remembers you,” Luke announced, a wide grin spread across his face.
I cleared my throat delicately before addressing my brother. “Hey, Luke, remember how much true crime I like to watch?”
“What?” Luke side-eyed me.
I pushed a strand of dark hair behind my ear. “I have a lot of information on how to get rid of dead bodies.”
Luke merely grinned back at me.
Jeremy cleared his throat. “Luke tells me that you’re looking for someone to help you out in a contest?”
“Yes.” I nodded and took another fortifying sip of coffee.
“What sort of contest?” he added.
My eyes nearly bugged out of my skull like I was a cartoon character. “He didn’t tell you?”
“No. Well, he did say it was in England. I assume it’s something English? A sport or something?”
I glared at Luke. “You really didn’t tell him?”
“What does it matter?” Luke replied with a shrug.
Jeremy shook his head. “To be honest, he mentioned you were willing to pay for a partner, and I could use the money right now. So, unless I’m just completely not cut out for whatever it is that you need me to do, I’m willing to try.”
Here’s something that’s surreal: a super-hot guy sitting in your living room telling you he’ll do whatever you need him to for money. It certainly wasn’t something I had ever predicted would happen to me. Especially not in front of my brother. But there I was, cuddled up in my gray polka-dotted bathrobe with my glasses perched on my nose, sitting on my ugly feet to hide them, and I’d just heard those exact words.
“Look, Jeremy,” I began. “I think there’s been a mistake.”
“Oh, no. Don’t cop out, just tell him,” Luke groaned.
Jeremy bit his lip, and I could tell he was trying not to smile. “Just tell me,” he prompted. And that was so cute, I had to do it.
“Fine.” I set my mug on the glass coaster on the table between me and Jeremy. “I need a partner for the Jane Austen Festival in Bath in two weeks.”
Jeremy’s face went completely blank. It was as if he didn’t understand the words I’d just said. As if I hadn’t spoken them in English. I had. Hadn’t I? I wasn’t fluent in any other language. My French was barely passable.
“Her nerdy boyfriend is taking someone else now, and he was supposed to be her partner,” Luke added.
I arched a brow and glared at my brother. “Thanks, Luke. Just drip the lemon juice in the wound, why don’t you?”
Luke blinked at me innocently. “What? It’s true.”
I turned back to Jeremy. He still hadn’t moved or said a word.
“What exactly is a Jane Austen Festival?” he finally asked carefully.
Oh, great. Beautiful but dumb. “Jane Austen is a nineteenth-century author who—”
“I know who she is,” he interrupted. “She wrote Pride and Prejudice and Emma and Sense and Sensibility, among others. I just don’t know what a festival about her would entail.”
Hmm. Score one for Jeremy. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be rude. It’s a festival with reenactments, Regency-era dancing, card games, things like that. We’d need to be in a set of competitions, almost like a beauty pageant, but in the nineteenth century.”
“People actually do that?” Jeremy asked, a frown marring his brow.
I squirmed in my seat. “Yes.”
“People like Meg do,” Luke interjected, as if that explained it all.
“What are the specific competitions?” Jeremy had leaned closer to me and searched my face as if really taking it seriously.
I took a deep breath. This was a horrible idea, and if I didn’t want to be by myself at Christmas and Thanksgiving with Mom or Dad, I would kill Luke and hide the body. “Specifically, there’s a card tournament, an acting competition, a costume competition, and a grand ball.”
“So I’d have to learn to play old card games and act?”
“Yes.” I cleared my throat. “And to carry yourself like a Regency gentleman.”
“I don’t even know what that is,” Jeremy
replied, his brow still furrowed.
“Yes, well. I know it’s a lot to think about. Luke should’ve told you what you were getting yourself into.” I stood, ready to escort him to the door. There was no way I would be able to teach this guy how to beat Harrison of all people in a competition in two weeks. “I completely understand if you’d rather not. No hard feelings. I—”
“Meg can teach you,” Luke said, stopping me in my tracks.
“No. No.” I shook my head. “It’s perfectly all right. It’s a lot to ask, and—”
“Are you willing to? Teach me, Meg?” Jeremy asked, looking up at me quite seriously.
My mouth went dry. “I, um—”
“Because if you are, and you’re still willing to pay...I’m willing to try.”
My mouth went drier.
“See, there,” Luke said, splaying out his hand in front of his friend. “The perfect Mr. Darcy.”
I turned back to Jeremy and pushed up my glasses. “Are you sure?”
His smile was like sunlight on a sunflower. There was that cute dimple again, too. “I am if you are.”
All I could do was nod.
Jeremy slapped his thighs. “It’s settled then. When should we start?”
Chapter 6
Monday night
Running a little late…five mins, came the text from Jeremy. We’d agreed to meet at a bar downtown to go over the big-picture things. He had questions and I had answers.
I rolled my eyes. Oh, terrific. He’s a Late Person. The kind who’s chronically running behind. I knew the sort. My dad was one of them. They always said five minutes, but they meant more like thirty. Or two hours.
I settled into the booth at the back of the crowded bar and took a sip of my Sprite. Normally I drank water, but I hadn’t wanted the waitress to think I was that cheap. And there was no way I was going to drink wine. Even so much as only one glass made me act like a lush, and I wanted to keep this meeting strictly business. To that end, I’d worn another skirt, this time a pleated, navy-blue and white striped one that provided decent camouflage for my belly. My white shirt had cap sleeves and a Peter Pan collar, and I wore navy blue patent leather flats. I was going for the cute nerd look, but I also wanted to appear professional, poised and in control. I was paying this guy five thousand dollars, so technically I was his boss. That called for looking boss-like.
I pushed the straw around the glass, propped my chin on my palm, my elbow braced against the table, and glanced around the bar morosely. It was one of those upscale places that business people frequent. Sleek and silver and a little too hip for me. There seemed to be couples everywhere. I wondered what Harrison was doing right that minute. I hadn’t seen him on campus today, but that wasn’t particularly unusual. He and I didn’t have similar class schedules. He also hadn’t called me yesterday to tell me he’d made the worst mistake of his life and begged me to be his partner again. I hadn’t really expected that call, but I wouldn’t have minded if it had happened. Instead, he’d texted me to ask if I could have lunch on Wednesday. He wanted to talk more about the competition.
As for that, I’d tried to work up the courage this morning to find Dr. Holmes and inform him that I intended to participate in the competition against Harrison and Lacey. I figured telling him ahead of time would prevent any issues if I were to win. By the time the day was half over, however, I’d decided to hold off telling him. I wanted to speak to Jeremy first, to ensure he was fully committed and knew what he was getting himself into.
I’d spent the day grading papers and fantasizing about the moment that Jeremy and I would win the Jane Austen Festival in Bath, and how graciously smug I would be when accepting Harrison and Lacey’s congratulations. “No hard feelings,” I would say. “You did a great job, too.”
Jeremy, of course, would be standing behind me, his hand resting on the small of my back in a protective gesture. He’d shake his head sadly at Harrison. “Better luck next time,” he’d say. “Plus, I’m taller than you.”
I’d thought about Jeremy a time or two over the last forty-eight hours. How could I help it? The man was a smoking-hot fox. Too bad he was my brother’s friend. Brothers’ friends were off-limits, of course. You only got together with your brother’s friend in movies and novels. I mean, I knew Jeremy when he was fifteen! Of course, his smoking-hot foxiness hadn’t yet emerged at that time, but then again, that meant he’d known me when I was thirteen and had braces. And one’s future husband should never have seen one with braces. It just seems wrong. Not to mention he knew my parents, which meant he was completely off limits. I’d carefully kept Harrison from meeting either of my parents for nearly three years. No easy feat, I assure you.
But there was one reason that was bigger than all the others as to why Jeremy and I were never going to be a thing, even if I had been single and was of a mind to go for it—the simple fact that while Jeremy had grown up into his previously mentioned smoking-hot foxhood, I was still a short, squat, brown-haired, brown-eyed mouse with glasses. Foxes and mice didn’t date. Foxes tended to date other foxes or gazelles or similarly beautiful animals. Mice are neither smoking, nor hot. Plus, add my nerd factor in and it was a complete impossibility. Besides, Jeremy probably already had a similarly smoking-hot girlfriend. Luke had mentioned it. Maybe I could find out tonight with some investigative questioning. At any rate, none of that mattered. Hiring him to be Mr. Darcy had nothing to do with our personal lives. This was business. Although…Harrison could probably use a little competition. Maybe then he’d understand how I felt about his spending time with Lacey.
“Hey there.” Jeremy was standing next to my booth. I jumped and my glasses popped up and down on my nose. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you,” he said, smiling and revealing his perfectly even white teeth again. Jeremy had obviously had braces too, unless he’d been born with teeth like that, which seemed both highly unlikely and extremely unfair. Regardless, I certainly had never noticed his teeth when we were kids, and it made me uncomfortable that I was noticing them now. Teeth had nothing to do with business. Teeth were personal.
“I didn’t expect you so soon,” I replied, glancing at my phone to see what time it was. Precisely five minutes after six. He’d really meant it when he’d said he’d be five minutes late. Hmm. I’d misjudged him.
“Yeah, sorry about that.” He slid into the opposite side of the booth. “There was a dog in the road, and I had to stop traffic to save her.”
My jaw dropped open. “A dog? In the road?”
“Yep, a scruffy little mutt. Cute little thing.”
I blinked. “Did you save her?”
“Yep. Her owner came running over to thank me. Apparently, the dog’s an escape artist. Dug under the fence in her yard.”
I took a contemplative sip of my Sprite. The man was precisely five minutes late because he’d stopped to save a dog from traffic? Was he some sort of a saint? I felt like a jerk for judging him.
He was wearing jeans and a Mediterranean-blue button-up shirt that was perfectly pressed, though not starched. Loafers completed his look. It was totally business casual, just like my outfit. Oh, and he smelled like some sort of light, highly addictive cologne. What had I expected? That he’d show up wearing dirty overalls with dip in his mouth?
The waitress shimmied up just then and asked Jeremy if she could get him anything. She was totally eyeing him, which made me feel ridic and inexplic-jealous. Apparently, I’d turned into the jealous sort since Lacey Lewis had come into my life. I hated that.
Jeremy ordered a draft beer while I contemplated the fact that I’d never given a second thought to such things as being jealous before. Not to mention in this case it made no sense because Jeremy and I weren’t even a thing.
“What are you thinking about?” Jeremy asked after the waitress trotted off in her Doc Martens to get his beer.
“I’m thinking we should get started,” I replied, pasting a pleasant, business-like smile on my face. Something in his eyes told me he k
new I hadn’t told him the truth, but there was plenty of time for him to discover what a headcase I was. I didn’t need to give him a running start.
“You’re not drinking?” he asked, pointing at my soda.
“No. I, uh, I’m not a big drinker.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll only have one beer,” he replied. “Don’t want to get fired my first day on the job.” He grinned at me and I spun off into another daydream of about his foxiness.
Wait. Fired? Oh, right, fired, money, job. This was work, and we needed to get to business. Good reminder. “No worries,” I replied, trying to sound light and breezy, like a good, reasonable boss.
I pulled my day planner out of my black leather Kate Spade bag and flipped to the back where I kept my lists.
“Your handwriting is really neat,” Jeremy said, eyeing my day planner.
“Oh, I...” I blinked. What to say to that? “Thank you…?”
“And your planner matches your purse.”
He noticed? I think I just fell in love with him. “Yeah, well, I’m a little...picky? Luke says I’m OCD.”
“I get it,” Jeremy replied. “I’m really picky about hand planes and straight edges.”
I grinned at him. “Ah, my soulmate.” I snapped my mouth shut. Okay, that was awk. Why did I always say the awkward thing? “So anyway,” I continued, tucking a wayward strand of hair behind my ear. “I’ve made a list of the things we’ll need to study.”
A short bark of laughter came from Jeremy and I pushed my glasses up my nose and looked at him. “Something funny?”
“Luke said you love to make lists.”
“OCD,” I repeated, raising my hand.
The waitress returned and slid the beer in front of Jeremy. He grinned at her, and I kinda wanted to kick her. She giggled and left.
“No, no. I think it’s great,” he said, turning his attention back to me. “I love organized people. I wish I was more organized.”
My eyes widened and my imagination went into overdrive. He’s not organized? He’s a hoarder. He lives in piles of fast-food containers and old weird newspapers and can never find anything. Of course he was a hoarder. Anyone as gorgeous as he was clearly had to have something wrong with him. The genetic lottery wasn’t that kind. Crazy had to be lurking nearby.
Hiring Mr. Darcy Page 5