Page 27 of Dare You to Run
“Maybe later, huh?” Her question surprises me and I find myself within an inch of her face, our noses practically touching and our eyes heated as they focus on each other.
“Let’s play some darts, beautiful.” Danté walks over and grabs Dagen’s hand, dragging her out of the booth.
She stumbles on her feet and follows behind him, but her eyes stay locked on me. I keep watching as they disappear in the crowd knowing where they’re headed.
“You better get after her before the devil steals her from right under your nose.” Kins whispers right into my ear and the words‘steals her’ring on repeat.
Despite my best efforts to leave her alone, I just can’t do it knowing that Danté might get the first taste.
Without speaking a word, I stand up and hear Kins and Mal whoop behind me. I’m pretty sure Kins says something about putting the devil in his place, but I’m too laser focused on Dagen and convincing her I’m not the jerk I’ve pretended to be.
You lasted a whole twenty-four hours, Hendrix. Chump.
ELEVEN
Danté squeezesmy hand and he pulls me to the back of the bar where pool tables and dart boards are stationed. He’s a nice guy and ridiculously good looking, but he’s also incredibly full of himself.
The entire way here, he talked about nothing but himself and his accomplishments. I admit, it’s very impressive. Going from foster care having never stayed in one place too long, to a millionaire before he was twenty-five is a hell of a rags to riches story. But it would’ve been nice to get a word in or even ask a question about something other than his money and the things it allows him to buy.
We step up to a board and Danté grabs the darts and holds out the blue ones for me.
“Red’s my lucky color,” he tells me with a wicked grin.
The black of his hair shines like an oil slick and matches his eyes…and his clothes…and his shoes…and basically everything about him including his personality.
He’s so opposite of Hendrix. While Hendrix looks dangerous tonight, like a bad choice on a school night, Danté looks like alcohol poisoning at a ditch party. Neither is a good idea, but atleast one can lead to some fun whereas the other just lands you in the hospital.
“Mind if I watch?” Hendrix slowly saunters up to the high top table we stand at and rests his elbow on it.
My eyes drink him in like they do every time he’s near. Each time, I find something new to focus on. Right now, it’s the way the rings of blue fade from azure blue to a dusty gray.
“Maybe you should play,” I tell him and hold out my hand. “I’m not very good at darts. Pool, horseshoes, poker, I got those in the bag. But I’ve never been much of a dart thrower.”
“You mean little miss pioneer girl can’t throw a dart?” Hendrix asks as he pulls the darts from my grip.
Our hands touch only for a moment, but it sends a tremor of need through my body that I didn’t realize it was missing. The look in his eyes is suddenly hungry and I get the feeling that he wants to feast on me. My brain screams to stay back, but my body is already thinking of how quickly it can wiggle out of these jeans.
“Shooting a gun or arrow is not the same as throwing a teeny ass dart at a board and hoping it sticks. The target is usually a tad bit bigger.”
“Like what?” Danté asks. “You shooting animals?”
His tone is mocking and it unnerves me. Much like when Hendrix doubted my knowledge on classic cars.
“Sure do. I bagged a two hundred pound Scimitar Horned Oryx last fall on my family’s ranch. Bow and arrow. No guns on that beauty. I’ve got him mounted in the main cabin. Ever shoot a thirty-one inch arrow at a moving target sixty yards away?”
“Sixty yards? Is that all?” Dante’s arrogant tone irks me.
“Yes, considering the average distance a bow can pierce through the skin of an animal accurately and lethally is forty yards.”
Hendrix snorts and we both look at him as he covers his mouth. Fingers inked with knives and letters hide his full lips that are spread into a smile. Danté looks like he wants to punch him in his face and it amuses me that I was able to not only make Hendrix laugh, but let Danté know I’m not some little woman who can only bake and hold her tongue until she’s spoken to.
Fuck that shit. I’ll kill the cow and cook you steak when I’m done. I can do it all.
“Let’s play, D. What’s on the table?” Danté’s eyes turn from troubled black sea, to dark but calm waters. “Do we play for money or bikes?”
My shock must fall from my lips because they both turn to look at me.
Danté’s lips curl and he says, “Nah. I think we should play for something better. Winner gets a kiss…from Dagen.”
