She nudged Grayson with her elbow, who rolled his eyes but gave in with a sheepish smile. “Yeah, but tonight isn’t about me.”
“I’m not allergic,” Hunter said, and there was a faint curve at his mouth that wasn’t quite a smile. “I’m selective, that’s all.”
Josie laughed. “That’s one word for it.”
“Stubborn is the one I’d pick,” I said, and she laughed harder.
Theo leaned closer to me. “We all know you’re good at PR, Miss PR, but the real question is… can you throw a dart?”
I glanced toward the back of the bar where a battered dartboard hung under a crooked neon sign. “Can’t say. I haven’t thrown one since college.”
“Perfect,” he said, rubbing his hands together. “These clowns never let me win. You’ll be my opponent tonight so I can leave with my ego in one piece. Let’s go.”
“I’m not—”
“Just one round,” he cut in. His accent turned “round” into something other-worldly that crawled along my arms. Effects of the beer, maybe. Or maybe he had a certain charm about him. Maybe they all did.
I hesitated but slid out of the booth, chalking up that last thought to the beer. Definitely the beer. Hunter watched, evaluating as if he was trying to decide whether to join or not.
Theo handed me a set of darts as we reached the board. “Like riding a bike. Just point and throw.”
“I can’t ride a bike either,” I muttered under my breath.
I lined up, aimed, and threw. The dart thunked into the wood frame two inches from the board.
Theo made a low noise. “Okay, maybe not exactly like that.”
Another try. This time it bounced off the wall and clattered to the floor. Behind me, Mason whistled. “You show that wall, PR.”
“We should check if they have insurance on the paint job.” And Tucker laughed so hard it got the others going too.
“One more try, and then it’s my turn,” Theo said. “I promise I’ll be nice about annihilating you.”
I felt someone step up behind me and before I could turn, Hunter’s voice was low in my ear. “Here. Like this.”
He reached around me, not touching, just close enough that the heat of him threaded through my blazer. “Instead of your wrist, use your shoulder. Line it up like this.”
Hunter took my hand in his and slowly traced the motion I should follow through the air. The noise of the bar dimmed as I focused on the warm tingling that started up in my fingertips. Somewhere in the distance, the guys were still ragging me. Probably Hunter too. But I couldn’t make out anything other than the tickle of breath on my ear and how goddamn gentle his touch was. For someone who gripped a stick the way he did.
“Got it?”
“I– I think so,” I said, steadier than I felt and felt a little sorry to have him step away and give me space to take my shot.
Yeah, definitely the beer.
I drew back, let out a slow breath, and threw. The dart stuck—not center, but on the board at least.
“There you go,” he said with an approving smile.
Josie’s voice cut in from the booth. “Look at you, coach.”
Hunter stepped back, his expression flicking toward her with a dry humor I recognized instantly as restraint. “Just trying to keep my PR rep from embarrassing herself.”
I rolled my eyes but couldn’t stop the small flicker of satisfaction in my chest. “Thanks for the lesson.”
“You’re a quick study,” he chided, taking a smug sip of his beer.
“Not a bad time for you to pick up some tips on that.” I meant it as a joke, but it didn’t land, judging by the shadow that crossed Hunter’s face.
