Author: Christine Bell

Their odd and slightly confrontational staring contest finally came to an end when she nodded slowly. “Me, too.” She pushed herself to her feet and slapped the table. “Me, too. Okay then. You guys mind if I scoot out early? I’ll pick up the tab.”

She was already standing, and although a part of Grace wanted to dive at her feet and beg her to stay a little longer, the other part—the fearless, glutton for punishment part—couldn’t wait for her to go so she could tug on this odd little thread that had appeared between her and Trick.

“Sure, and no worries on the tab. I got this one. You landed Chaz the other day, so consider it a bonus.”

Serena laughed. “Well if I knew that, I would’ve picked another place and made you buy me lobster.”

“Exactly why I kept it to myself,” Grace said, wondering if her voice sounded as shrill and nervous as she thought it did.

Serena sashayed out the door, treating them to a finger wiggle as she went, and then they were alone again. She and Trick. She took a deep sip from her wine glass.

“So, what’s up with you two? Something happen? You guys seem so…uncomfortable around each other all of a sudden.”

He picked up his sandwich and bit in, chewing and swallowing before he answered. “I’m not sure. I think she’s mad at me because I called her last boytoy a meat-head the other day.”

“Rodney?”

“Yeah.”

Grace nodded and nibbled on a wing. That could be it, although Serena was fully aware that Rodney wasn’t exactly the cerebral type and that certainly wasn’t what she kept him around for. So why would that bother her?

“You guys aren’t…” She set down the half-eaten wing and flapped her hand around awkwardly. “I mean, you don’t want to…” She flapped some more, cheeks burning, as she prayed he would put her out of her misery.

His eyes popped wide, and he shook his head furiously. “Christ, no. God, seriously, Grace? Not even close.”

His shock and denial looked so genuine, she immediately felt like a thousand pounds had been lifted off her chest.

“Like I said,” Trick continued, “I just think she felt like I was coming down on her for her choices in men and is digging at me a little in retribution. Plus I…” His blue eyes were locked with hers, searching.

“You?” she asked, pulse thrumming as she waited for him to finish.

He held her gaze and seemed ready to say more when Anya came by.

“Everything good over here, guys?”

Trick broke eye contact, and Grace pasted on a smile and nodded. “Yup, delicious.”

She picked up Trick’s empty plate and asked Grace if she wanted to wrap hers and, by the time she left, whatever moment was there had passed. She swallowed her disappointment and racked her brain for something to talk about but came up empty. Was this how it was going to be now? It had been so easy between them, and now that she’d mentally moved him out of the friend zone and into the potential helluva-lot-more-than-friend zone, everything was already different. Maybe this was a bad idea. But even if it was, could she change how she felt about him now that she’d finally realized that maybe her tingles had been right all along?

Just when things were starting to get uncomfortable, Trick dug into his pocket and held up a dollar. “Want to play darts?”

She nodded eagerly. Darts were good. They were the perfect distraction. Maybe the light-hearted competition would stop her from thinking about Trick’s ass, broad shoulders and nice, strong-looking hands—which all seemed to be taking up major amounts of mental real estate tonight—every time she looked at him.

“Sounds good.”

She grabbed their glasses while he made change at the bar for the dart board. When he was done, they filed into the smaller game room at the back of the bar. She breathed a sigh of relief when she saw that they weren’t the only ones back there. A group of two guys and two girls were shooting pool on the big billiard table in the corner and their laughter and chatter along with the jukebox playing in the background was all good cover for her relative silence. One of the girls looked up when they walked by and did a double take at Trick. Hot jealousy flashed through Grace and she bit her lip. That was new, and of all the sparkly, new feelings she’d been having lately about Trick, that was her least favorite so far.

“Two out of three, loser buys the next drink?” Trick asked, either oblivious to the girl’s obvious stare or choosing to ignore it. Either way, it made her feel a little better.

She nodded. “Sounds good, but we don’t have Serena here to drive us home, so only one more each.”

He slid the quarters into the machine and grabbed six darts, three red, three blue. She set their glasses down and took the red darts from him. “You go first.”

She needed the time to regroup. And ogle his ass again, if she was being honest. She stared at him hungrily, mesmerized by the cords of muscle in his forearms when he rolled up his sleeves and lined up his throw. She took a long pull from her wineglass and then another.

“It’s been a few months, so,” he cocked his arm back and let loose, striking the board just a hair left of the bull’s eye. “Huh. Spoke too soon. Apparently, if you’re awesome at something, even if you take a few months off, when you come back to it again, you’re still awesome.”

He made his way around the table with an exaggerated swagger and raised a challenging brow her way. “What about you? You think you can do better?”

His eyes were so damned pretty. Full of fun and mischief, and something a little darker. His pupils dilated and the smile dimmed. “Gracie?”

Thirsty. She swallowed hard, trying to work up some moisture in her mouth. Why was she so fricking thirsty?

“Yeah?”

He stepped closer, lips parted to speak, but a loud crack of laughter from the pool table area startled her, and she stepped back.

“Your turn,” he said softly.

She set her wine down and wiped a sweaty palm on the leg of her jeans. This was Trick. She needed to chill out. If something were ever going to happen between them, it wouldn’t be at the bar during a game of darts. But later? She decided with a newfound sense of purpose. It was on.

Because she wanted this. What she had with Trick already, plus a little more. The laughter, the joy, the friendship…if she could have that plus the heat that had been sizzling between them lately? It would be perfect. Grappling with some anonymous guy in the dark, no matter how sexy, couldn’t compare. The decision was made. If Catman called again, she was going to tell him she couldn’t see him anymore. And then, if she could just hang onto the courage, she was going to see if Trick felt the same as she did. .

But first, she needed to whoop his fine ass at darts.

She stepped in front of the board, setting her foot up on the line, then took aim. With a silent prayer, she let it rip. The dart flew and landed with a thunk, protruding from the block of wood the machine sat on, about a foot off the floor.

Trick slow-clapped for her and let out a whoop. “Now that wasn’t something you see every day. You didn’t even hit the board.”

She wrinkled her nose and groaned. “I don’t know what happened. I lined it up, and it looked so perfect in my head.” She moved to yank the dart from the splintered wood, but he stopped her with a hand.

“Wait one second.” He pulled out his phone, and the flash lit up the room before he put it away again. “Okay, you can take it out now.”

She lunged at him to grab the phone and delete the picture he’d taken, but he was too quick for her. “If you post that on Facebook, I’ll post the one of you in my shower cap from last New Year’s Eve,” she threatened with what she hoped was a convincing scowl.

He chuckled and shrugged. “I already posted that one myself. But I’ll keep your dart on the DL. Promise. This will be for my own personal use on one of those days when I need a chuckle.”

She walked over to the table, drained the rest of her glass, and swiped her hand over her mouth. “This time, you’re in trouble. I can feel it.” She made a show of cracking her knuckles and shaking out her arms before she got into position to throw her second dart.

“Get out your camera now, pal,” she muttered, and loosed the dart. She squealed when it hit the board dead center. “What? Oh, dang. How ya like me now?” she crowed, strutting around him in a half-circle.

“Holy shit,” he said, whistling through his teeth when the board lit up, red and flashing. That was a bona-fide bullseye. To his credit, he clapped again for her and looked suitably impressed.

The tingles that had been on simmer all night cranked up to a boil and warmed her insides. Was there anything she enjoyed more than being with him like this, clowning around and laughing? Maybe the things she’d done with Catman had been a close second, but even they would be better with Trick. She didn’t know how she knew it, but she’d never been so sure of anything in her life.

Elation over her stellar shot mixed with wine drunk too fast, and her newfound revelation became more than she could stand. She stopped her posturing, threw her arms around him, and squeezed him tight.

“You’re my best friend. You know that, right?” she murmured, inexplicably on the verge of tears. Not because she was sad, but because everything was about to change. As soon as she worked up the courage, she was going to make her move, and no matter what, nothing would ever be the same. She only hoped that the risk paid off and she didn’t lose him altogether. That was the one thing she couldn’t bear. His strong arms folded around her, and she breathed in the spicy scent of his soap.

“Yeah, right back atcha, Gracie.” His voice sounded thick, and she pulled back to look at his face. It was clouded with uncertainty and even a little sadness. She wasn’t the only one feeling nervous and maybe a little melancholy.

“Is everything okay with us?” she asked. When the words left her lips, she wished she could take them back. Something was wrong, and she was fairly sure it was something bad. If it was, she didn’t want to know what. His blinding smile erased her fear-based paranoia, and he stepped back.

“I know you’re trying to distract me by being nice with the hug and all, but it’s not going to work. You’re going down.”

Funny he should mention that. Because if she had any say in the matter, by the end of the night, she’d make a prophet out of him.

Chapter Eleven

Two hours and one more drink later, Trick opened the truck door and slid out before making his way to her side. He got there right as Grace exited.

“Were you going to open my door for me?” she asked with a wobbly smile.

Was that some sort of tell? He guessed maybe it was. He’d always been the kind of guy to hold the door open for a date, but not so much the kind who would race around the front of the car to open the door for a friend. He laughed it off with an easy shrug. “You seemed a little buzzed, so I was going to help you down.”

She executed a neat little jig and gave him jazz-hands. “Tipsy or sober, I’m spry.” The words had barely left her mouth when she tripped up the curb and took a header into a miniature evergreen.

“Holy mother of—” she wailed, flailing to extricate herself from the shrub.

He wrapped his arms around her waist and hauled her out. “You okay?”

“Other than that tree trying to murder me? I’m great.” Her hair was sticking up and littered with tiny green needles, and he tried to brush them off.

“I’m just glad you had time to close your eyes. You could have scratched your cornea or something.”

“Yeah, good thing. Instead, I smell like a cab, and I killed my poor little bush.”

He chuckled, relieved she wasn’t hurt. “So, you were saying…something about spry?”