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“Hey, buddy.” The greeting carries a softness I’ve never heard before. “You’re not really hurt, are you?”

The wailing cuts off on a hiccup, and the kid blinks up at him.

“There you go.” Orien slides his hands under the little boy’s arms and sets him back on his feet. “Now. Where’s your adult?”

A woman comes rushing over, breathless. “I’m so sorry!”

Orien waves it off. “Not a problem.”

She takes the boy’s hand and steers him away toward the funnel cake, and the whole thing is over in under a minute.

As they head off, Orien straightens and brushes his palms over his jacket.

He catches me staring. “What?”

I give myself a shake and hook a thumb toward the dart booth. “Play me for funnel cake? Whoever loses has to buy.”

“The person who initiated the date buys,” he says with a stern frown.

My eyebrows shoot up. “I didn’t realize this was a date, seeing as how you didn’t ask.”

He scowls. “It’s a date.”

“Still not an ask.” With a smirk, I spin on my heel and approach the booth, pulling out my wallet.

Orien gets there first and slaps down a five-dollar bill.

He casts me a smug look as the teenager manning the booth sets out six darts.

“Still doesn’t mean this is a date,” I say as I return my wallet to my pocket.

Orien picks up the first dart. “Loser pays?”

“Them’s the rules,” I agree.

His grips the dart too far back on the barrel, wrist angled like he’s never held anything like it before. I keep my mouth shut, because I recognize the tactic.

“The inner ring,” I tell him helpfully. “That’s the one you want.”

“I can see where the rings are.”

“Just making sure.”

He throws. The dart lands just outside the inner ring, quivering in the canvas. The second throw lands in the outer ring.

“Huh,” I say.

“It’s not as easy as it seems.”

“Is that so?”

He picks up the third dart and throws. The dart lands wide.

Orien steps back from the counter and turns to me. “Your turn.”

“I’m terrible at darts,” I lie.

“Can’t be worse than I am.”