Page 54 of Somewhere You Belong

“Uh, not really.”

“Well, we need another player, and you look like you might be able to throw a few.”

“I do?”

“Yeah. There’s a fire in you, sweetheart, and a death glare. I’m sure you could narrow your eyes on the target real fast and hit the bullseye.”

“You think so?” I smirk, fighting with the pull I’m having toward this old man and genuinely enjoying his determination and conversation.

“I’m rarely wrong. And better yet, if you can’t, I’ll buy your drinks tonight.”

I twirl the toothpick that still has one olive around in my glass. “That’s a hard bargain to pass up.”

“Then you’ll play?” His entire forehead crinkles as he waits for my answer.

I’ve never played darts a day in my life, even during the handful of times I’ve gone out to bars, and that was back in college. Frankly, I can’t remember the last time I spent a Friday night in a bar having fun. But I’m here, I’m two drinks in, and it’s not like I have anything better to do.

When in Carrington Cove, right?

“I’ve never played, so this is your warning if I suck.”

“Like I said, I have a gut feeling about you. Let’s go.” He takes my hand, pulling me up from my chair and leading me over to the corner of the bar where the dartboards are set up. Two of his friends are waiting for him, nursing beers.

“I got our fourth,” he states proudly, putting his arm around me. If a strange man did that any other time, I’d be kneeing him in the junk, but I can tell he means no harm. “Little lady, this here is Thompson and Baron, and I’m Harold, by the way.”

“Willow, and it’s nice to meet you gentlemen.” I notice they’re all wearing the same hats with the same logo on the front. “I tried to tell Harold here that I’ve never played, but he wouldn’t take no for an answer.”

“That’s ‘cause you’re a pretty little thing, Willow, and Harold is a dirty old man.”

“Shut your pie hole,” Harold scolds his friend, Thompson, I think it is. “Willow, I am an utter gentleman, I assure you.”

“Sure,” the one who must be Baron adds.

“Well, how about we play some darts and we’ll see who the real man is after all?” I challenge, and they all smile in my direction.

I watch Baron collect the darts for our two teams, writing our names on the scoreboard. But as I turn around to take another sip of my drink, I catch Dallas watching me from behind the bar, his scowl apparent even though there’s a considerable distance between us. And my entire body hearts up from his stare, like he’s keeping an eye on these men, making sure I’m okay.

When I turn around, I try to focus on the game and even do pretty well for my first time, all the while battling this feeling of contentment that makes the evening go by in a blur.

Before I know it, I’m three martinis deep and Harold and I have won two rounds of darts.

“Never played before, my ass,” Thompson grumbles as Harold and I celebrate our win with a hug.

“Beginner’s luck, I swear.” I hold up three fingers like a boy scout, giggling just as I feel an ominous presence come up behind me.

“Can I get you gentlemen a refill?” Dallas’s voice sends a shiver down my spine, followed by a trail of heat that could be the alcohol, but I’m beginning to doubt that since it happens every time he’s near.

“I think we’re done, Dallas. Goldilocks here hustled us,” Baron whines jokingly.

“Is that so?”

I hold my hands up defensively. “I swear, I’ve never played before. They don’t believe me.”

“I believe you,” he says, staring down into my eyes.

And that makes my hands drop. “Why?”

“Something tells me you’re not the type to play darts on a Friday night in a bar…am I right?”

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