Page 7 of South of The Skyway

“Seems a shame to live in the sunshine capital of the country and loathe to be here.”

“The tourists get the good stuff. They leave the scraps for the rest of us to fight over.”

Yikes. My parents had their hearts set on somewhere their joints could thaw out once my dad handed over the wheel to my younger brother. Hell, it was all my mother could talk about, shy of preparations for the upcoming season.

“Oh, come on, it can’t be that bad, can it? You guys have how many thousands moving in every month? That’s gotta mean something.”

“That’s the problem.”

“Sorry to add to it.”

She flashed a cheeky smile, rolling the dart between her fingers before sending it flying with a quick flick of her wrist. “For you, I suppose we can make an exception.”

“Glad to hear it.”

“So, do you always challenge strange women to a game?”

“You looked like you could handle yourself.”

“Excellent judge in character.”

I lined up my next shot before returning to my studies. The dipping fabric revealed a quote scrawled just below her collarbone in dark ink, skilled fingers adorned with a handful of delicate designs. A woman after my own heart; she had opted for a decorated temple. Her skirt clung to the subtle curve of her toned legs, and I didn’t bother to keep my eyes from wandering as she rotated, stepping wide to steady her stance before her final toss.

Brexley nonchalantly brought the glass bottle to her lips. Martinis, dark beer, scary accurate darts all wrapped in a gorgeous little frame?

Fuck me, who is this girl?

“I never thought I’d get this lucky, though.” When her brows arched, I knew the words had come out of my mouth rather than staying in my mind where they belonged.To backtrack or run with it?Obviously, I’d run with it. What the hell else was a man to do?

“I’ve always dreamt of getting my ass kicked by a five-foot-five blonde.”

The heat of her body had just caressed my skin when some jack-off wearing a dark baseball cap stumbled into her shoulder, dumping both her beer and his down her side and earning a round of expletives so flavorful I nearly lost it laughing. She had a freaking mouth on her. I’d never been prouder. I stepped between them, partially in her defense and partially so she didn’t break his freaking face with the bottle now clutched in her manicured fist.

Steadying the idiot, I sent him on his way with a curt, “Get lost,” before turning back for her. Brexley eyed the back of his head like she still might seek retribution, so I snatched a pile of napkins from the nearest table. Then I stepped into her space, blotting down the line of her arm up to her shoulder. I didn’t miss the way her breathing sped up, although I’d tuck that away for another time.

“Thanks,” she muttered, leaning over to set down her bottle. “Fucking prick.”

I put my hands up in surrender, “My bad, just trying to help.”

The diffusion did precisely what I’d wanted; that cheeky smile appeared, replacing her momentary scowl as she accepted my outstretched offering, commencing the recovery process.

A deep breath later, she offered me a shaky smile. “Thanks, Rhyett. God, this is why I hate coming out. This shit always happens.”

“Might I suggest playing at a different bar, then? This one clearly has some shit juju.”

“You know what I mean. Some drunk asshole gets in the way, or won’t stop hitting on us, or starts swearing at the bartender or—”

“Dumps his brewski down your favorite outfit.”

“Yeah, that.” She sighed, setting the sopping towels on the table before motioning for the bathroom. “I’ll be right back.”

“I’ll walk you.”

For a beat, I thought she’d say no and bark to stay put. So when she gave me an anxious nod, my heart leapt in its cage. Broderick would never fucking believe this, even if I held her for validation. The man was one hell of a wingman, but this whole evening was next fucking level. If I walked out of here with her phone number, I’d be happy as a clam.

I grabbed Brexley’s hand, relishing that the attraction translated to heat that flicked up my arm and around my low spine. Weaving between bodies in a stilted dance, I led her toward the back, carving my way toward the green neon sign forthe loo.

“Take your time.”

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