After finally sending off his family by endless coaxing and promises to visit them with Darcy, Micah sighed loudly, his shoulders slumped. "At last," he muttered.
Then he looked at Darcy. "Really…what's your problem? Is it that hard to sweet-talk them? Couldn't you at least say goodnight or something?"
"Like it or not…That's me." Darcy replied.
Micah stared at him, exasperated.
Then a smirk spread across Darcy's face. "Besides," he added, "look who's talking… You were lying to them the whole night."
"What lying?" Micah shot back.
"You took care of me?" Darcy raised an eyebrow.
Micah scowled and kicked a loose stone on the pavement. "Oh, come on. What was I supposed to say? You wanted me to tell them the Du Pont patriarch personally looked after you?" His voice dropped to a grumble. "If I did that, they'd think you two were an item or something… and what's next, shipping both of us abroad?"
