“Four,” Easton says. “I’m playing too.”
“Kodiak.” My tone implies I’d appreciate him putting an end to this.
“You can trust us. Right, guys? Let us help you.” Easton puts a hand on his chest as though he’s about to recite the Pledge of Allegiance or something.
I glance at the door, knowing I should leave—but hell, I wouldn’t mind a little advice, even from four bachelors who aren’t anywhere close to settling down.
“One game.” I push out my chair.
Theodore grins. Alvin downs his beer and joins us. Simon nods, sauntering over to the board as if he knew I’d agree.
We move in front of the dartboard, and Easton puts a hundred-dollar bill on the rail. “A little incentive never hurt anyone.”
“You have the worst arm on the team,” I say.
“Fuck you. That’s Torres.”
Alvin goes first and hits a seven, using it as a warm-up nobody asked for. Theodore sets the rules. Singles, doubles, and triples count. Hit your number, and the question skips to the next person. Miss, and you answer.
I go first. Hit the twenty clean.
“Lucky shot,” Theodore says.
“I throw things for a living.”
“Baseballs to bigger targets,” Alvin says. “Completely different.” He lines up his dart. “Unlike me, who has to shoot a small black puck into a net with a big body blocking it.”
Second round. Easton misses by two inches.
“Kodiak, how did you ever become a baseball player in Alaska? Were bears your teammates?” Theodore asks.
Easton takes the time to explain to them how his dad was a hot prospect in college, but then his parents died, and he had to come back home to raise his eight siblings. His dad became the high school coach, and what didn’t come from his dad’s genes is just raw talent, according to Easton.
Ruby comes in with refills, shaking her head when I miss on the third round, and she overhears Simon’s question.
I thought maybe they’d go easy on me, but he goes right for it.
“Who is she?”
The other three guys turn to look at me with the synchronization of people who have been waiting for me to miss.
“I’m not answering specifics,” I say.
They grumble, but I hold firm. They do not need to know I want the coach’s daughter.
“Okay.” Simon puts up his hand. “New question then—how long have you known her?”
“A long time.”
“How long?” Theodore asks. “Specifics.”
I look at Easton. “Isn’t that two questions?”
“Technically, you’re not answering the question.”
I blow out a breath. “Since I was eleven.”
Alvin whistles. “Eleven? That’s a lifetime.”
