Chapter 26
CARTER
The neon sign above the BBQ joint flickers twice before settling into a steady glow, casting red and orange light across the parking lot.
Inside, the evening crowd is building, laughter and country music spilling out every time the door swings open.
The smell of smoked brisket and hickory hangs in the air, mixing with the sharper scent of spilled beer and anticipation.
Tonight is going to be fun.
Kai drops into the chair beside me, his grin so wide it threatens to split his face in two. “You ready for this?”
“Born ready.”
“That’s my boy.” He slaps me on the shoulder hard enough to make me wince. “You’re going to destroy that fucker. Absolutely annihilate him. I want to see tears. I want to see him crawl out of here on his hands and knees.”
“That’s the plan.”
We deliberately didn’t tell Seth about tonight.
He would have found some way to shut it down, lecture us about responsibility and consequences and not making things worse.
The man means well, but sometimes you just need to let chaos reign.
Besides, June distracted him perfectly. She has a book club meeting tonight with Sophia and somehow convinced Seth to tag along.
The thought still makes me laugh. Seth, grumpy Alpha cowboy extraordinaire, sitting in a circle of women discussing romance novels. I would pay good money to see his face when they start analyzing the spicy scenes.
The door swings open, and Tanner strides in flanked by two of his buddies.
He’s sober tonight, I can tell. Clear eyes, steady gait, that infuriating smirk plastered across his face.
He’s wearing a tight shirt that shows off muscles he probably thinks are impressive and jeans so new they still have creases.
“Carter.” He stops at our table, arms crossed. “Didn’t think you’d actually show.”
“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
His friends fan out behind him, trying to look intimidating. One of them is a skinny guy with a patchy beard, the other built more solidly but with the vacant expression of someone who peaked in high school. Real threatening crew he’s assembled.
“We need rules,” Tanner announces, pulling out a chair and straddling it backward. “Can’t have you cheating your way through this.”
“Agreed.” I lean back, keeping my posture relaxed. Confident. “Lay them out.”
“Simple enough. We each take a shot. After every round, we each throw one dart at the board.” He gestures toward the dartboard mounted on the far wall, currently unoccupied. “You miss the board entirely three times, you’re out. You lose. I win.”
“Yeah, you’ll always be the loser,” Kai interjects, that smug grin spreading across his face.
Tanner’s expression sours. “This doesn’t involve you.”
“I’m moral support. Deal with it.”
I can practically see Tanner’s blood pressure rising. Good. The more agitated he gets, the sloppier he’ll be. “Fine. Let’s relocate to the dartboard, get ourselves set up.”
We all migrate to the corner of the room where the dartboard hangs, commandeering the nearby tables. A few regulars shoot us curious looks but don’t interfere.
“So we go until one of us misses three darts,” I confirm. “Got it.”
Kai clears his throat loudly. “Hold on. This seems way too easy. We need to up the stakes a bit.”
Tanner narrows his eyes. “What did you have in mind?”
“Every ten rounds, both of you have to ride the mechanical bull.” Kai jerks his thumb toward Brutus. The mechanical monstrosity sits in its own roped-off area, currently dormant but waiting. “Shake things up. Add some physicality to the mental game.”
I keep my expression neutral, but inside I’m grinning.
Kai knows damn well that riding a mechanical bull is second nature to me.
I could do it blindfolded, hungover, and missing a limb.
Tanner, on the other hand, is a desk jockey who probably hasn’t been on anything more challenging than a bar stool.
“Not sure that’s necessary,” Tanner hedges, and I catch the flare of uncertainty in his eyes.
“I think it’s essential,” I counter. “Otherwise, this is way too simple. Come on, don’t chicken out before we’ve even started.”
His buddies immediately start in on him, clapping his shoulders and talking him up. “You got this, man. Don’t let these rodeo pricks intimidate you.”
Peer pressure is a beautiful thing.
“Fuck it. Fine.” Tanner straightens up, squaring his shoulders. “Let’s do this.”
Kai catches my eye and winks. The man is an evil genius sometimes.
The bartender appears with two trays loaded with shot glasses, the amber liquid inside. Whiskey. Good stuff too, from the smell of it. Kai must have ordered while I was watching Tanner posture.
“Twenty shots’ worth to start,” Kai announces, arranging ten glasses in front of each of us. “Should make things interesting.”
I pick up my first glass, studying the liquid inside. The smell hits my nose, sharp and smoky, with notes of caramel underneath. Tennessee’s finest, ready to do battle.
“You first,” I tell Tanner. “Since you’re the challenger.”
He snatches up his glass and throws it back without ceremony, slamming the empty container down on the table with more force than necessary. A few drops splash onto the wood.
I follow suit, letting the whiskey burn a trail down my throat. It’s smooth going down, warmth blooming in my chest almost immediately. One down. Who knows how many to go.
We approach the dartboard together. Tanner goes first, squinting at the target with intense concentration. His form is decent; I’ll give him that. The dart flies true, embedding itself in the center ring with a satisfying thunk.
“Bull’s-eye.” He smirks at me over his shoulder.
I step up, barely aiming, and let my dart fly. It lands a millimeter from his, perfectly centered.
“Looks about even to me,” Kai observes from his seat, legs stretched out in front of him. “This is gonna take a while before it gets interesting.”
He’s not wrong.
We settle into a rhythm. Glass after glass disappears, the whiskey warming my blood, loosening my limbs. By the fifth round, there’s a pleasant buzz humming through my system. By the eighth, the edges of the room have started to soften.
Tanner is feeling it too. His throws are getting wilder, his stance less steady. He’s managed to hit the board every time so far, but the precision is gone. His last dart landed in the outer ring, barely qualifying.
Round ten. Kai clears the remaining glasses and gestures toward the mechanical bull. “Gentlemen, your chariot awaits.”
Tanner stares at the bull the way a man might look at his own grave.
“You first,” I offer magnanimously.
Tanner climbs over the rope anyway, approaching the mechanical beast with obvious trepidation. One of the staff members appears to operate the controls, barely suppressing a grin.
“Five seconds to qualify,” Kai announces, appointing himself as official referee. “Anything less and you forfeit the round.”
“That wasn’t part of the original rules,” Tanner protests.
“Consider it an amendment. All in favor?” Kai raises his own hand. “Motion passes.”
Tanner mutters something under his breath and mounts the bull. The machine whirs to life, and immediately he’s clinging on for dear life as it bucks and spins. His body jerks back and forth, completely out of sync with the motion, his arms windmilling for balance.
The five seconds that pass might be the longest of his life. When the bull finally stills, he slides off with all the grace of a wet noodle, stumbling several steps before catching himself on the railing.
“And he survives!” Kai commentates. “Barely. Very, very barely. Looking a bit green around the gills there, buddy.”
“Fuck off.” Tanner is definitely swaying now, his face taking on a distinctly pale hue. He makes his way back to our table and drops into his chair, reaching for the next round of amber liquid with a shaking hand.
My turn.
I approach Brutus and mount up, give the operator a nod, and let my body find the rhythm automatically.
Five seconds pass in a blur of motion. The bull bucks and twists, but I’m with it the whole way, my hips moving in counterpoint, my core keeping me centered. When the time is up, I dismount smoothly and hop over the railing.
The room spins slightly when I land. Just slightly. I’m fine.
“And that’s how a professional does it,” Kai crows. “Take notes, Deputy Dipshit.”
We return to the table where fresh rounds await. The whiskey is starting to taste less like alcohol and more like water, which is either a very good sign or a very bad one.
Round eleven. Tanner manages to hit the board, though barely. His dart wobbles in flight and catches the very edge of the target.
I pick up my dart, weighing it in my hand, and make a decision. I’ve been matching him throw for throw, but where’s the fun in that? Time to show this asshole exactly how outclassed he is.
“You know what?” I toss the dart without looking, deliberately aiming for the wall. It embeds itself in the wood paneling a good foot from the dartboard. “I don’t need the security blanket. Too easy otherwise.”
Tanner actually cheers, pumping his fist in the air. “Ha! One miss for the cowboy!”
Kai bursts out laughing. “You realize he did that on purpose, right? He’s spotting you points.”
“Bullshit. Nobody throws a game on purpose.”
“I do.” I retrieve my dart and return to the table. “I’ll beat you even with a handicap. Makes things more interesting.”
Tanner’s face cycles through several emotions, uncertainty winning out over indignation. He grabs his next glass and downs it aggressively, amber liquid dribbling down his chin.
We push through rounds twelve, thirteen, and fourteen. The whiskey is really hitting now. My vision has that pleasant underwater quality, everything soft and slightly delayed. Tanner has started leaning heavily on the table between throws, his aim deteriorating rapidly.
Round fifteen. His dart goes completely wild, sailing past the board and embedding itself in the wall a full two feet to the left.