Before we can argue, he walks over to the women, who jump for their wallets, shocking all of us.
“They’re vested.” Luke pulls at the back of his neck.
Payton snickers. “Understatement of the year, mate. Lily’s the most competitive person I’ve ever met.” He wags his eyebrows. “Certainly keeps the relationship interesting.”
We all groan.
Ethan drapes an arm over Payton’s shoulders. “Happy for you, but TMI, bro.”
While they continue to chirp at each other, I move to stand by Bree.
She lifts her chin, her blue eyes flashing with challenge and something else—desire perhaps?—I haven’t seen before. “Ready to lose?”
Her sweet honeysuckle fragrance invades my nose, teasing me just like her words. I inhale her scent slowly, so she won’t notice, and keep my expression steady. “I seem to recall winning the last time we played.”
“That was a long time ago. I’ve gotten better.”
Heat rides up the back of my neck and down my arms. Maybe Elias’s comment about foreplay isn’t too far off, but I can’t let my head go there.
I lift my chin toward the board. “Prove it. Ladies first.”
Her jaw clenches in that stubborn way she does when she’s about to launch into a full-blown argument.
“For the bull-off.” I hold up a dart to stop her retort. If she feels the need to prove something, I’m willing to play this out, her way, so she’ll have no doubts about it being a fair game.
I win the throw to see who goes first, which rankles Bree but also seems to spur her on. The shouts of encouragement and ribbing from our friends fade into the background as I watch her every move. I’m tracking the board and our scores, of course, but I’m also stealing glances at how her jeans hug her hips and how her fitted T-shirt accentuates the curve of her waist.
She’s so graceful, yet strong. Her throws are poised and targeted, hitting her intended mark with precision. She’s right—she has gotten better at this game. Did she play darts with Chase?
The thought sticks in the back of my throat and sours. My next throw goes wide because of it, too.
She raises a brow at me. “What’s wrong, Wade? Are you nervous about losing? I promise I won’t rub it in your face too much.”
I clench my jaw. Not because her comment bothers me, which it does, just not in the way she intended. I’m trying to control how my body is reacting to her. I may have been in love with this woman for most of my adult life—correction,allof my adult life—but I don’t think I’ve ever seen her like this.
Sexy, bold, daring…
We continue this dance of precise throws and challenging barbs until we’re both down to one throw to close our numbers. We both need an inner bullseye, something I can do easily.
However, I also know it’s the most difficult one for Bree. It’s the smallest space on the board to hit, and she used to always get it in her head if she didn’t get those out of the way early on. My chest tightens at the thought of the pressure she’s feeling right now, battling with my desire to win.
If she makes her shot, she wins because we’re tied in points. If she misses, but I don’t, which I know I won’t, I’ll win. And part of me wants to let her win—let her have her moment—so I can watch her strut a little more.
She takes position, wiggling her hips to get her feet right—and driving me crazy—then throws her shot.
And hits it.
The other ladies squeal, bouncing up and down as they hug each other. My cheeks tighten with my grin as they praise Bree.
Mia holds her hand in an ‘L’ shape to her forehead and then points at me. “Loser.”
Worth it.
Behind me, the fellas intermingle some swears with their complaining.
I face Zayne. “Pay up.”
With his tail tucked between his legs, he shuffles over to the women, roping an arm over Harper’s shoulders, who then blushes as she shoots him a shy glance.
