Triple five.I’m under her skin, just as much as she’s under mine.
She takes the next shot quickly, finally zeroing in and hitting a single twenty.I watch her walk to the board and retrieve all three darts.She hands them back to me and crosses her arms while I set up my shot.
“I didn’t wear these jeans for you.”
I’m aiming for the bullseye.My first shot going to the eighteen, which we’ve both closed out.One of her hands drops, dangling between us.I jolt when her hand grazes the front of my jeans.
“I did wear the underwear for you though.”
My next shot bounces off the board.
“Which pair?”I ask, not looking at her.
“Wouldn’t you like to know.”
Images flash through my mind—the red and black lace from the photo shoot, the powder blue that made her look innocent and sinful at the same time, the sheer robe that showed everything while hiding nothing.
Or maybe something new.Something I haven’t seen yet.Something she bought just for tonight.
My hand shakes slightly as I line up my next shot.“You’re evil.”
“You love it.”Her voice is low, teasing, confident in a way that makes me want to throw her over my shoulder and carry her out of here caveman-style.
Which would definitely get Hunter’s attention.
I take the shot.Miss by a mile.
Bailey’s laugh is pure satisfaction.
The game continues—more touches, more teasing.At one point Bailey leans over to “help” me line up a shot, her breath hot on my neck as she whispers something filthy enough to make me completely forget what I’m aiming for.I get my revenge when she’s reaching for her beer and I let my hand trail up the back of her thigh, just barely grazing the seam of her jeans.
By the time we’re down to her final numbers, we’re both wound so tight I’m amazed we haven’t combusted.
Finally it’s down to nineteens for Bailey.She just has to close it out and get fifteen more points and she wins.I step away, back to the table, and take a hearty swig of my beer.
Bailey strikes.Nineteen.Ten.Single bullseye.
Game.
“Thank fuck,” I say.
“You let me have that one,” she says, almost a whine.
“No, I got out of your way,” I point out.“Because I want to take you home so you can sit on my face.”
“Shh.Silas, Jesus.”She glances over at the group that’s abandoned the pool table and has been the perfect cover—loud and drunk.I have no idea how they plan to get up and ski eight hours tomorrow.
“All right.I’ll leave first, why don’t you go sit at the bar for five minutes, make sure your brother sees you, and then drive over to my place.”
She nods, and instead of going out the front I slip out the back and come round the side.In a few minutes I’m home, Echo greeting me at the door with a happy meow.I pick her up and wrap her up against my chest, pinning her and kissing her head while she purrs.
“Okay,” I say, gently tossing her down.“We’ve got company coming.”
I leave my glasses on my bedside table and tidy up, expelling some nervous energy until I see Bailey’s headlights pull into my driveway.
The moment feels enormous.The time apart.The pebbles.The wager she agreed to.The way that tourist saw right through us.
I greet her at the door, and for half a second we just look at each other.Her eyes are wide, a little uncertain, like she’s wondering if this is real or if she’s going to wake up and find herself still in New York, still alone.
