Page 13 of Kiss and Tell
“And I suppose you’re one of them?” I asked.
“Not really,” Connor said, surprising me. “I don’t drink here that often.”
“Not your style?”
“I’m just not home much,” he said. “Or, I never used to be.” He lowered his eyes to the floor.
“Did you used to travel a lot?” I asked. “You said you were a musician, right? Was there lots of touring?”
“Yeah.” He flicked his eyes back to the dartboard, avoiding mine. He threw a single dart. It landed near the edge. “I got sick of the lifestyle. So I decided to come home and take over the new bar for my brother.”
“Going from musician to bar owner sure is a different career.”
“You think so?” His lips lifted in amusement. “There’s still lots of drinking and partying and picking up women. The only difference is, I’m not—” The small smile faded, his mouth twitching down into a frown. “I’m not playing guitar every night,” he finished quickly as he threw his last dart and went to collect them from the board. “Your turn.”
“Just a warning, I’m not very good at darts,” I said. “You may want to stay out of the way.”
Connor came to stand behind me. He kept close, his chest nearly pressed against my back. I could smell him, a combination of leather and spice and something almost smoky. My arm trembled as I lifted my hand.
“You ever heard of personal space?” I asked.
Connor closed his hand around mine, steadying it as he reached around me.
“Hold your hand like this,” he said. “You’ll be more likely to hit the center.”
The rough calluses on his fingers pressed into my skin. My heart thumped a heavy beat as my breathing went shallow. I stared at the spot where his hand clasped over mine. My vision narrowed down to that single point of contact.
I rolled my shoulders and shrugged him off.
“I think I can figure out how to throw a dart myself,” I told him, my voice only slightly breathy.
Connor backed off and I mourned the loss of his body heat. Then I eyed the board and threw the dart.
It landed firmly in the very center.
I suppressed a grin.
“I thought you weren’t any good at this?” Connor said.
“Beginner’s luck,” I replied.
I threw a second dart. It landed right next to the first. So did the third. This time I did grin.
“Are you trying to fleece me?” he asked.
“We didn’t put any money on this game.” I collected my set of darts and put them in his hand. “So is this what you do in your spare time? Play darts?”
“And we’re back to the fifty questions,” he replied. “I’ve already talked about my favorite food and my favorite color. Which was sandwiches and blue, in case you forgot.”
“I still don’t think sandwiches counts as a favorite food,” I said. “At least narrow it down to a specific type of sandwich.”
“My favorite food is anything between two slices of bread,” he said.
“What if that stuff is cabbage, mustard and pickles?” I challenged him, trying to think of a terrible combination.
“I stand by my statement,” he said. “What about you? What are your favorite food and favorite color?”
“This isn’t about me,” I told him.
