Page 7 of Shephard

What I noticed was that instead of being rowdy, folks seemed happy to be enjoying an evening out. They were likely hard-working individuals living paycheck to paycheck. Someone caught my eye and I could tell he didn’t want to be there any more than I did.

Everyone was relaxing, except for the grumpy dude tossing darts with such ferocity, I was shocked the dartboard survived. From where I was sitting, I could tell he was huge, at least six foot four if not taller. And talk about muscles. The man was built like some bodybuilder yet seemed as if he’d gotten every hard muscle by dirty work, not spending hours in a gym.

Maybe my observation skills weren’t dead after all. He was dressed in jeans hugging a carved ass and a shirt that fit him nicely, although I couldn’t see it given his back was mostly turned to me. He was also wearing a leather jacket, which gave him a bit of a badass appearance. I had to admit, when I wanted eye candy, I went for the dangerous-looking dudes. If they had shaggy hair as well as a beard and mustache, as this dude did, my pussy was usually throbbing.

Call it a bad influence from being raised by such a religious mother.

Maybe mountain men should be on my menu from time to time.

I couldn’t help myself, pulling out three twenties and leaving it for the food and beverages. I didn’t need more tonight, but feasting on my version of chocolate before bed could provide delicious fantasies. That much I deserved.

As I moved through the crowd, I could tell the guys around him wanted to take him on. Every shot the mysterious hunk made was pretty good.

But I was better.

The thought was strangely something I needed tonight. Besting a man? A therapist would say something was terribly wrong with me. Maybe there was.

I moved closer still, catching more than just a glimpse of his periphery. Wow. The man was drop dead gorgeous in a mountain man kind of way. A decent shave and he’d be stunning. The closer I came, the more I realized I recognized the outline in his jacket pocket. He was carrying a weapon.

Not that it meant anything in these parts. It seemed everyone had weapons, so many carrying hunting rifles in their vehicles. But there was something off about him, as if he’d faced all the problems of the world and suffered because of it.

But there was no doubt he was one of the most attractive men I’d set my eyes on in a long time.

Even if he hated the dartboard with a passion.

A waiter brought the man another drink, not bothering to say a single word. The amber liquid indicated bourbon or scotch, a bottle of beer off to the side. I studied him for a few additional minutes, finishing my wine. Without bothering him, I moved closer, placing the bag of food on an empty table.

He was taking a break, holding the glass in front of his face as he studied the dartboard. Why did I have the feeling he was contemplating ripping it from the wall?

Maybe the trip had been detrimental, taking a significant toll on my psyche, but I was obviously in a mood. I couldn’t help myself, taking long strides in his direction. The moment I flanked his side, he slowly turned his head toward me with a sneer on hisface. While the lights in the joint were pretty piss-poor, there was no doubt his eyes were the most awesome shade of whiskey or even cognac, deep and rich with gold highlighting his irises.

If a girl didn’t know that he was the kind of man to stay away from, she could get lost in his eyes for hours.

Not this girl.

Instead of losing myself in any way, I flexed my hand, sliding it near the waist of his supple leather jacket. He’d tossed his head over his shoulder, watching everything I did while remaining silent. I did love a man who could provide a deliriously sexy smirk.

“You’re packing,” I told him after almost identifying his handgun.

“Always.”

“Don’t worry. I always carry as well. You never know when you’re going to run into riffraff along the way.”

His nostrils flared in appreciation for my spunk. “Indeed.”

He was a man of few words. Maybe that meant his other attributes were… impressive. A girl could hope.

I pulled the glass from his hand. What shocked me was the high volume of current that immediately rushed through every cell and muscle after our fingers had touched. There was no such thing as karma, kismet, or any of that bullshit, but chemistry? Hell, yes.

He felt it too, the rugged man clenching his jaw. He said nothing as I drained his glass, gently placing it on a table. His only slight reaction was when I took the darts from his hand, giving him anentirely different heated gaze than I’d given the assholes who’d hit on me.

A hint of amusement sparked in those sexy eyes of his and he took a step away, allowing me direct access for a throw. As usual, I was pretty certain he underestimated me.

I’d been throwing darts for as long as I could remember, the one activity my father and I had enjoyed together when I was growing up. Sure, I could say that was sad all the way around, but I’d won more than my share of bets over the years from my acquired skill.

I might not be betting, but something told me I needed to concentrate. I did but couldn’t help myself, throwing one after another.

Bullseye as usual.

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