Page 34 of Say Something
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Everything was coming together. Between the house and the practice, I was finally feeling like I found my place. That I fit into my place.
I was at The Bar. Correction, everyone in town was at The Bar. It was Mr. Smith’s retirement party. He and his wife were leaving on an RV trip in the morning. They had children and grandchildren spread out around the United States and decided to take a tour of the country while visiting their family. Mr. Smith—George, I’d never get used to calling him that—promised I’d be able to reach him by cell phone if I needed anything, and I assured him I would call him at the first sign of trouble, knowing it would be unlikely that I’d ever be that desperate. I knew I had to give the sweet man peace of mind, though, and I would be forever appreciative of his faith in me. I knew he’d given me glowing recommendations to all his clients over the last couple weeks.
“If I remember correctly, you know how to throw a mean dart.” His voice...his warm, minty breath...so close to my neck caused every single hair on my body to stand up on end. It was both exhilarating and concerning, being so close to him again.
I slowly turned, taking a step back, knowing if I hadn’t, our lips would have—could have—brushed against one another. That’s how close he was.
I looked into his brown eyes, seeing the little bit of challenge there. I used to know how to throw a dart, that was true. I couldn’t tell you how the game was played, but I could shoot some bullseyes. I hadn’t tossed one in years, but how hard could it be?
I smirked, letting him know his challenge was accepted. Making my way to one of the dart boards, I nodded hello to a few of the folks I passed. I’d been back in town three weeks, so I’d pretty much run into everyone by now. A few of them stared; Danny and me together in public was fodder for the gossips. I was okay with that, there were certainly worse things.
I picked up six darts, handed three of them to Danny.
“You ready to get stomped, Thompson?”
He grinned at my playfulness. It had been years since he’d seen the fun, competitive side of me. It was years sinceI’dseen her.
“Areyouready to get stomped, Price?”
I saw the light in his eyes falter ever so slightly. Calling me by my maiden name hurt him. He didn’t let it sway him though. With my nod, he winked, then turned to the board. He readied himself, aimed, and fired.
Bullseye.
He’d been practicing…
He threw his second and third darts, also bullseyes.
Well.
I raised my brows, acting nonplussed, but I was shaking in my boots. Literally. I had on a denim skirt, pink and green plaid button down sleeveless top, and cowboy boots. But back to the darts...Danny had never been that good. Sure, we never played the right way. We just threw to see who could hit the bullseye. I hadn’t thrown in years, and he was acting like he’d thrown every day for the last four years.
I cockily approached the line and threw. And I hit the wall.
Thewall.
I, Jessica Lynn Price, never hit the wall.
“It’s been a while,” I mumbled.
I tipped my head to the right, then to the left, stretching my neck. Then I stretched my arms out to the sides and went up on my tiptoes to stretch my legs...I was stalling. He knew it, I knew it, the wall knew it. Maybe I needed another beer. I looked at the dart in the wall. Then again, maybe I didn’t.
I stood at the duct-taped line on the floor again, lifted my arm, pulled back, and tossed the dart.
Into.
The.
Freaking.
Wall.
Again.
I stood there, blinking. For real?
I glanced at Danny. He was trying not to laugh, covering his mouth with his hand—the nice guy that he was.
