Thankfully, Theo was there to diffuse the tension. He stepped up to take his turn. “You’re gonna need more than a semi-okay goalie to salvage this game.”
The guys jeered, shouted bets, the bar a blur of movement and noise around us. Josie had leaned across Grayson’s lap to yell advice at Theo, her laugh ringing out. She looked at me once, her expression measuring, but then she winked like we were co-conspirators.
“Not bad,” Hunter murmured as I lined up another dart.
I focused on the board, ignoring the warmth creeping up my neck. “Just following instructions.”
Another throw. It landed closer to the bullseye this time, and Theo groaned dramatically. “She’s learning too fast.”
The noise swelled, someone ordered another round, and for the first time since walking in, I felt the edges of the room soften. I was still working, but the beer, the game, and Hunter’s unexpected patience had threaded something warmer through the night.
By the time I sank the last dart into the soft felt of the board, my beer was warm and the back of the bar smelled like sweat and cheaptequila. Theo threw his final shot wild, muttered something in French, and set his darts down.
“Beginner’s luck,” he said.
“Sure,” I replied. “Luck.”
We drifted back to the corner booth, the team loud and sprawling. Josie had her phone propped up on a glass, camera angled at the group.
“Okay, guys, one quick video,” she said, voice bright. “This is going to kill on Reels. Two seconds, I promise.”
Grayson groaned but slid closer to her. “Do we have to?”
“Yes,” she said. “We’re doing the Surge Shuffle. Mason, Hunter, get your asses over here.”
I plucked her phone from the table and handed it back to her. “No photos or videos with Hunter unless you clear it with me first.”
“Since when?” He scoffed, not happy about getting dragged into the video but now annoyed that I said no.
“We’ve got a rollout strategy, and random videos mess with the messaging.” I kept my tone firm, even with everyone staring at me like I’d sprouted a third eye in the middle of my forehead.
The celebration vibe around the booth faltered.
“It’s just a dance,” Josie said. “I don’t get how that goes against your messaging.”
“You wouldn’t.” And the air in the bar got sucked away. All eyes were zeroed in on us. “It’s about controlling the brand. Nothing personal.”
There was a moment where I was sure she’d keep going, but Grayson tapped her elbow, and said, “Let’s leave it for another time.”
The others followed his lead as he slid back into the booth, and I felt my resolve waver the slightest bit. It was just a stupid dance. Maybe there was no harm, and no reason for me to have gone so hard in shutting it down.
But before I could get anymore twisted up about taking back what I’d said, Josie tucked her phone away. “Fine. I guess we won’t have any fun tonight.”
And just like that, the table’s energy bled out. They went back to their drinks, their private conversations, but it felt cooler now, like I’d waltzed in and popped their bubble.
I sat down next to the empty space at the end of the bench, keeping my expression neutral. This was exactly why I hated socializing with clients. One boundary and suddenly I was the killjoy.
“Cass!” Mason’s face opened in an easy smile as he waved a young woman over who’d just stepped into the bar.
She descended on the table in a flurry of apologies, half of which got lost in Mason’s shoulder as he pulled her into a warm hug.
“Long day?” he asked, taking her coat.
“The longest,” she said, and kissed his cheek before sliding into the booth beside me. “I’m convinced the new intern is out to make my life hell. Can I have this?”
Mason slid his beer over. “You’re just in time for the next round. Tucker?”
Tucker looked up with mild offense. “Me? I got the last one.”
