The Wingman (Vancouver Storm, #3)

by Stephanie Archer

I love her, I realize. I’ve loved her for years. Maybe since she walked into English class that first week of university, or the first conversation we had about The Northern Sword, or the first time I opened my blinds and screamed at the weird gnome peering into the window while she collapsed on my bed, laughing her ass off. Or maybe I fell a little in love with her every time I saw her, every time we laughed together or texted or hugged, until I was at full capacity and head over fucking heels for her.

“I missed you, baby,” she says in a soft voice. Baby? My brain starts to slur, wading through warm, sluggish feelings as I grin down at her, probably wearing a dopey, stupid expression. “I missed you, too,” I say. What is happening? I’m not sure, and I don’t really care. I just want Darcy to call me baby again. Darcy turns and meets eyes with Jess. “Hi.” She sticks a hand out. “I’m Darcy, Hayden’s girlfriend.”