However, the fellas know me well enough, so I shouldn’t make it obvious that I’m milking this for all its worth. Taking aim, I snap the dart loose, hitting the spot near the triple eight—a sixteen.
Ethan’s eyes and mouth both widen as he guffaws. “He missed! Give the man another beer so we have a fighting chance.”
With a dirty grin, Elias offers up his half-drunk beer to me, which I ignore.
I ready my next shot, keenly aware of Bree’s eyes on me. This could go several ways. I could hit an eight and win, which is the expectation. If I were to change sides of the board, say to hit a four, six, or two so that I have a third throw, they’ll think I’m just showing off.
Or I could hit a double eight, pretending to miss again, and give the rest of these idiots another shot at winning, but I’m too competitive for that.
The night’s young, though. Plenty of time to work my magic on her. I flick the dart and hit the eight. Groans and snorts surround me as the fellas complain.
Yet Bree stands there, openly staring at me with narrowed eyes. I may have overplayed my hand. She knows how good I am at darts. That’s because she’s almost as good as I am. She’d probably tell you she’s better, and she might be right.
But not tonight.
While I retrieve the darts from the board, she pulls the other four women into a huddle, which has the rest of us glancing at each other in confusion. Ethan appears amused after a minute, but Luke’s expression mirrors the concern on Payton’s face.
Not worry. More like dread. As in, what fresh hell are these women about to let loose?
I think we’re about to find out.
Their huddle breaks with Bree at the lead. “We challenge you.”
“Excuse me?” Anticipation tingles through me, much like when I’m in the crease and an opposing player heads toward me in a breakaway. The muscle memory makes my thighs and shoulders tense.
Mia crosses her arms. “You heard our girl. We’re ready to show you guys who rules that board.”
Payton snickers. “Wouldn’t exactly be a fair fight, ladies. Wade and I are quite good.”
Bree shakes her head. “One on one. I go against Wade. One round of Cricket.”
As kids, we’d spend Saturday afternoons in the barn, holding our own dart tournaments. Ellie and Piper would last a few rounds before wandering off to more interesting endeavors, while Bree and I would keep the challenges going until we needed a bathroom break or food.
I don a slow smile as I tap a dart against the other two in my hand. “You’re on.”
She examines the various sets of darts provided by the establishment, most likely searching for the best weight for her smaller hands.
Barbie-man pulls me off to the side, a huddle of our own. “There’s definitely a vibe between you two.”
The hope I’ve held close pulses in my chest and grows. If they can see what I’m feeling, then I’m not off base.
But I don’t want to jinx it either. “Just some friendly rivalry.”
Elias snorts. “More like foreplay.”
Luke jabs his elbow into his side, making Elias hunch over with anoof.
With a furtive glance toward Bree, who’s standing at the throw line, practicing a few shots, Ethan leans toward me. “Is she any good?”
I nod. “Almost as good as me.”
Zayne holds his hand out, revealing a twenty-dollar bill. “Let’s make it interesting.”
Luke grunts, pushes his hand away. “Not the time, man.”
Even Mason’s shaking his head.
Zayne splays his hands out, the twenty tucked between two fingers. “What? They have theirgirl. We’re betting on ourguy.”
