Page 80 of Single-Minded
Presley nodded. “I’m with Ty.”
A growl rumbled deep inside me, though it didn’t seem to be audible above the crowd. Just as well. I didn’t have the right to growl about who she was paired up with, for darts or otherwise.
Maybe her being paired up with Bishop was what spurred my next poor decision. Whatever the cause, I didn’t stop and think about it before I leaned closer to her ear and said, so no one else could hear, “Any chance we could get together later? I feel like I should give you a little something for your birthday.”
I straightened and acted as if I’d just given her a benign tip for throwing a dart instead of angling for a hookup. I felt her glance up at me, but I watched Bishop, the motherfucker, throw a bull’s-eye.
Presley leaned against me and pulled me down so she could say something in my ear. “As I recall, it’s not a little something, but I’d be very interested in it.”
I couldn’t wipe the grin off my face as I straightened again.
Bishop could have all the bull’s-eyes with the dartboard he wanted. I’d be the one lucky dude hitting the best target of all later tonight.
I managed to hang out for another forty minutes at the Fly before I couldn’t play it cool for another second. Through some inconspicuous text exchanges, Presley and I pulled off a ruse that she had a headache and wanted to go home, and I happened to be leaving at the same time and would give her a ride.
I’d give her a ride, all right. And then I’d give her another ride.
We walked down the sidewalk toward the side street where I’d parked with a foot or two between us, making small talk the way two almost-strangers would.
I opened the passenger door for her, then went around to the driver’s side, scanning the area as I did, reassuring myself there was no one out and about on this sleepy street. After I climbed in and shut the door, I leaned across the console, angled her chin up, and kissed the hell out of her. I kept it short but intense, then broke contact.
“I’ve been dying to do that for the past hour. Maybe five,” I said as I started the engine. No sense wasting time here when we could be in her bedroom in five minutes.
“Your girls are in Nashville?” she asked, her voice sounding a little breathy.
I nodded as I pulled away from the curb.
“Can we go to your place?”
I stopped at the stop sign and didn’t start up again as I looked over at her. “Why my place?”
She shrugged. “You’ve seen my place, way down to the innards of it, and I don’t even know where you live.”
“My house isn’t much to see. Just a little place I rent.”
Presley put her hand on my forearm. “I don’t care if it’s a shed in someone’s backyard. I’m just curious.”
I studied her, wondering how she’d react to the two-bedroom house that would fit in her living room. I wasn’t embarrassed by my modest house, but it was far from the luxury she was used to, even if she had grown up poor.
“West.” Her tone said I was being an idiot. “Do you have a decent bed?”
I laughed. “My place it is.”
This was a hookup, not a marriage proposal.
Minutes later, I pulled into my one-car garage, noting that the neighbor’s house on this side was dark, telling me Mrs. Lansing had gone to bed.
Presley and I made our way out of the narrow unattached garage. I punched in the code to close it, then put my hand at her waist to usher her into the house.
We entered the kitchen, and I flipped a light on, glancing around to see what state I’d left it in. It was pretty tidy, save for my breakfast dishes in the sink.
“This is cute,” Presley said.
Laughing, I said, “The cabinets are from the early sixties, the linoleum on the floor probably has asbestos in the lining, and your laundry room is twice as big.”
“But it’s clean and cozy, and look how cute these placemats are.”
The placemats at each of the four spots at the table had rainbows and sparkles and were personalized with the girls’ names. Mine said Daddy as the girls had insisted.
