“Bocckk bock!” Laken shouted just as I released the dart from my grip and—it hit the wall.
Throwing my hand to my hip, I whipped around to see that putrid little grin and was tempted to wipe it off his smug face. If looks could kill, I would’ve fatally wounded him.
“I’m sorry, did my hellblazer impersonation scare you? Does that make you the chicken?” he asked, self-content.
“If I’m a chicken, you’re the jackass.” I should’ve known he didn’t care about the flower shop. He only cared about winning this round of darts. The questions, the charm… all a charade. Luckily, I’d been playing his game since we were young and knew all the rules. If he wanted to play, we’d play. “It’s your turn.”
Laken took the darts out of the board, keeping a stern eye on me as he made his way back to throw. I waited several feet away while he parted his feet. He peeked over his shoulder at me real quick. I only raised my brows.
As he faced the board, arm bent and ready, I slipped down from the table, sneaking to his side. Leaning in close enough that my breath brushed his skin, I whispered against his ear, “You were right, you know.” A muscle in his jaw feathered. “About me thinking about you.” The blues of his eyes drifted to me, sharp but softening, until he snapped them off me.
“This isn’t going to work,” he said. “You can’t get under my skin.”
We’ll see about that.“Maybe not under it, but I’ve been on top of it before.” He pursed his lips, but the corner of his eye twitched. “I’ve thought long and hard about this moment, about you and me.” I carefully let the words pour from my lips like honey until he grew red-faced, bothered. “Especially about that time we broke your bed.” And he missed.
Ouch, outer ring.
I scoffed. “Still struggling to hit your mark, I see.”
Laken had been right about one thing: I did hate losing. I’d pull out all the plugs, go as low as I needed. I’d scrape the bottom of hell for a way to beat him. Sell my soul. Did it torture me to remember those times and how we were? Absolutely. But I’d survived the last years; my pain tolerance could handle it.
Yanking his darts out, his shoulders were tense. “You,” he growled, one dart down. “Are a piece.” Two darts down. “Of work.” Three darts down as he faced me.
“This was your idea.” I shrugged, feeling nauseous as he treaded closer. Being around him made me ill—he was a plague.
The crowd in Rabbit’s Foot grew rowdier by the minute. A party unraveled in the corner; every three seconds mugs clashed with cheers. Boots stomped, hands clapped, and a group of them had a deep choir started as they sang. One thing led to another, and half the tavern joined in.
“Yes, and I’m beginning to regret it.” He stopped in front of me, arms crossed. There were smudges of dirt and paint on his shirt. He apparently had a day, too. That would explain the flatness of his usually thick hair.
“You knew how this would go, but if it’s too much, you can always surrender.”Please surrender.
A smile split his lips. “Like hell.”
Fine.I straightened, lifting my chin high and narrowing my eyes. “Then I suggest getting your shit together if this is to be a competition.”
“You better watch it, McCarthen. I’m going to put a dart in your ass.”
I felt sure he’d like to. Turn after turn, our antics continued. Laken sang in my ear and initiated a round of cheers as I threw. I waved an arm in front of his face until he got aggravated enough to miss. He danced by the board, and I talked the drunk troubadour into strumming his chalette, a charmed banjo, near us.
The angrier I became, the better my aim. The more distracted Laken was, the worse his aim got. And as expected, as I’d prepped, trained, and prepared for—I won.
Sitting back in a chair with my feet propped up on the table, I soaked it in. Laken’s loss, his sore pouting. He slumped down across from me, resting on his elbows.
“What is it then, what’s your question?”
Ah.If I were honest, I had a thousand questions I wanted to ask Laken Augustus. But I wasn’t ready to hear the answers for most of them. For tonight, I only had one. The one question that had landed me in a massive pile of stress and tears.
“Did you know the sanctuary was twelve thousand macs in debt?” And for what Gods-forsaken reason wasn’t I made aware?
Laken straightened in a heartbeat. Brows rising high, his jaw dropped. “Twelve thousand?”
I cut my eyes to him. “Did. You. Know?”
“Of course not, Reece, Gods above…” His voice trailed into nothing. “When did you find out?”
I pulled out an imaginary pocket watch. “About two hours ago when I had a visit from Collin Redsworth.”
“Pointy hat?”
