Page 152 of Duke
It’s a good look for them.
Duke nods. “They’re comfortable too. Already got asked by Doc Hamilton where he can get a pair.”
“Way to mix work and pleasure.”
“Aw, Blue. It’s all pleasure these days.”
The breath leaves my lungs when we step inside the tent. It’s a summertime wonderland, the poles that hold up the tent covered in whimsical greenery and yellow flowers. Wooden chandeliers hang from the ceiling, coating everything in low, sexy light. A huge bar is set up on the opposite side of the tent, where a dance floor waits.
I wonder what our reception will look like. Mine and Duke’s.
Not long ago, I would’ve banished that thought to the far corners of my brain. I didn’t want to date this man, much less marry him.
Now, though?
Now, I like the idea of Duke making an honest woman out of me. It doesn’t have to happen anytime soon. But I’m pretty sure I’ve found what I’ve always been searching for in my life with Duke.
Now, I’m finally able to trust that sense of deep knowledge inside me—that I’m exactly where I should be, doing exactlywhat I should be doing. Because with that deep knowledge comes a deep sense of joy.
Moving farther into the tent, we’re greeted by dozens of familiar faces. Ava and the girls are nibbling on the mini sliders that servers pass around on pretty china plates. Sawyer makes sure everyone’s hands and mouths are clean before they go for the sweet little lemonade stand set up in another corner.
John B can’t stop laughing, and Patsy is about as happy as I’ve ever seen her.
We’re turning back toward the bar when I see the dartboards. They’re hanging on a makeshift wall made of greenery nearby, and they’re done in shades of white and yellow to match the rest of the wedding decor. I come to a halt, my heart beginning to pound.
“Duke.”
“Yeah?”
“Did you—”
“Give Wyatt and Sally dartboards as a wedding gift?” He chuckles. “No, I got them a toaster. But I may have mentioned that darts would be a fun wedding day activity. You know, keep people busy during cocktail hour. Sally loved the idea, and of course Wyatt agreed because he can win money off people.”
A bolt of excitement moves through me. “We haven’t played since the night we met, have we?”
“Nope. We never did finish that game.”
“Prepare to get your ass kicked.”
Duke holds out an arm. “Only if you do the same. After you, Blue.”
We grab a quick drink at the bar—club soda with lime for me, tequila on the rocks for him—and then we head for the dartboards.
The weight of the yellow-tipped darts is thrillingly familiar in my hand. I’m tired, and my feet have started to swell, but youwouldn’t know it by the way I bounce on my feet and shake out my arms, bending my head side to side in preparation to dominate this game.
“All right, Rocky,” Duke says with a laugh. “Time to get down to business. 501?”
I drop a pair of darts but keep one in my hand. “Like you even need to ask. Giddyup, cowboy.”
He smiles at the line, clearly remembering when he said it to me that night at the Rattler.
The band starts playing. I hit a bull’s-eye. Duke hits two.
“Do I get a pregnancy handicap?” I sip my club soda.
He presses a hard, quick kiss to my mouth, the brim of his cowboy hat tapping my forehead. “You get whatever you want, sweetheart.”
My heart pops around in my chest. He tastes like tequila and smells like heaven, and I’m hit with the certainty that I’ve never been happier in my life.
