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His nostrils flared.
“Why are you so weird?”
“He can’t help it,” Clay said helpfully. “Think his personality was permanently starched into his uniform.”
I tipped my head. “Army?”
His flat gaze didn’t waver.
“Suit yourself. 501?”
He nodded curtly and stepped aside.
I wasn’t sure why his military time was a sticking point. Most of the guys I knew who served shouted it from the rooftops. Of course those guys also had small dick energy. Not so much with Ransom.
Pushinganydick energy to the back of my mind, I rolled my neck and shook out my fingers.
Darts was an easy game, but it was more about accuracy than brains. Well, besides doing some simple math. We’d shoot for highest points for who started the game. My first throw was…not good. He smirked when he went to the board to pull out my red dart on the outer ring of the seventeen space.
He handed me the dart, and without looking at the board, he threw an outer bullseye.
I studied the narrow green space around the bullseye. “Gonna be like that?”
“Scared?”
I dipped my hand into the pocket of my dress, pulled out my emergency fifty, and flashed it. “You?”
“I don’t mind taking your money.” He rescued his dart and moved back to the line. “Do you need me to move back a bit for an advantage?” He stepped back another four feet.
“Shut up and play.”
The first player to zero won. Each round included three darts.
He smirked and set himself right behind the line. His first throw of three darts killed a good chunk of his total. Freaking double points. Lucky shots. Or he was showing off.
Once I learned the weight of the darts and settled into my new surroundings, I chased him hard. It only took five rounds for him to get down to double digits from five hundred. His focus was a bit preternatural, if you asked me.
Like there was this bubble of calm around him.
I stepped closer, watching the fierceness of his angular face as he consistently shredded my score. To win, you had to hit a double on the board to create part of your score—two darts in the same number. He needed forty-five and he could do that with this last round.
I still needed one hundred and seventeen. Ugh.
I was tempted to blow in his ear a-la Kevin Costner’sRobin Hoodmovie, but I’d probably be wasting a good distraction on him.
He was a damn robot.
“Do you mind?”
I tucked my hair behind my ear. “Do I make you nervous?”
“You annoy me.”
“Why, because I play so well?”
He gave me some side-eye without turning my way. “Do you have questionable math skills? I’m about to win.”
“Right.” I linked my hands in front of me and swayed. “Sorry. By all means, go ahead.”
