20. Danger
CHAPTER TWENTY
danger
After dinner, I find Winnie by the back wall near the dart boards.
She’s dressed in a white t-shirt and a high-waisted skirt with jewelry that makes her whole outfit look dressed up.
Her laugh is so bright, it makes the world seem not so bad for a minute.
Winnie never fits in anywhere, and that’s what makes her dangerous.
She’s one of those people who’s too beautiful for how ugly the world is.
She catches my eye and smirks. “You ready to lose?”
“Didn’t realize darts were your thing.”
“I’m competitive at everything.” She picks up a dart and rolls it between her fingers like she knows what she’s doing.
Then she immediately drops it.
It clatters off her boot and skids across the floor.
I bite back a grin at her liquid courage. “Darlin’, that confidence is a little alarming.”
She bends to grab it. “Never said I was good. I just hate losing.”
“Never would have guessed that,” I say sarcastically.
Her hair’s twisted up, a few loose curls slipping free to brush her jaw. She smells like summer and sugar and things I shouldn’t want.
“Alright,” she says, stepping closer, but not close enough. “What’s the strategy?”
I nod toward the board. “Pointy end goes in first.”
She gives me a flat look. “Wow. I’ll be sure to write that down.”
She squares up, tongue caught between her teeth like she’s defusing a bomb. One eye squeezed shut. Serious as hell.
She throws. The dart sails wide—misses the board completely—and sticks in the cork wall beside it.
She stares at it.
I lose the fight with my smile. “We’ll have to add that to our lesson plan.”
I step up beside her and pull another dart from the rack. “You want to make this interesting?”
Her eyes light immediately. “Define interesting.”
“Hmm,” I say. “Loser buys the next round.”
She snorts. “That’s not interesting.”
I lift a brow. “Then what is?”
She studies me. Then her mouth curves.
“Winner has to take the loser somewhere fun,” she says. ”Mainly because I need to know what a man like you considers fun. I’m picturing… goat wrestling. Or grave digging.”
My throw lands dead center. I don’t look at it. I look at her.
“Did you say fun?” I say wearily.
She scoffs, stepping back into position. “Yes, you show off.”
Her dart hits the outer ring. Respectable, but it’s not enough. We trade throws. Hers are wild but determined. Too bad she doesn’t have a shot. She’s smiling when she takes her last throw, confident and hopeful. Misses by an inch.
I step up and finish it clean.
Game.
She exhales hard, hands on her hips. “Well. That feels rigged.”
I finally let myself grin. “You set the terms.”
She tilts her head, considering, then sighs like she’s accepted her fate. “Fine. Where are you taking me?”
I step closer, lowering my voice. “You’ll find out soon.”
She smiles. “You better not disappoint.”
“Well, first we have to fix this throw of yours,” I say, and I can’t help myself—I gotta help her. I step in behind her, reach around to guide her arm.
“Here. Throw it like this.” My hand wraps her delicate wrist. Her soft skin feels electric under my palm. She goes still—doesn’t move, just breathes. I feel it, like her whole body winding up, waiting for something. “Now flick your wrist just a tad.”
Once I let go, she does as I say. She doesn’t make it in the center, but it’s closer now.
I do my best to pretend nothing happened, that she has no effect on me. But my body doesn’t get the memo. My pulse is everywhere—throat, chest. I keep my eyes on the board, but all I’m thinkin’ about is how my body responds anytime I’m touching her.
This ain’t real, Danger. Don’t make it real.
“I think this isn’t my sport.” she says, shrugging.
“I think you’re right about that.”
“One good thing came from it. I can’t wait to see where you take me for fun,” she says, following me over to a nearby table.
“We’ll see. Fun for me might be misery for you.”
People are drinking more now. Sawyer and Honey are about ten minutes from dancing on the bar. And Rogue has unleashed his horrible dance moves. I grab two premade drinks waiting on the bartop before taking a seat.
Winnie settles in next to me, crossing her legs at the knee.
“Fisher had a time tonight. Do you ever think about what kind of chaos you’re unleashing on the world?” she asks, voice soft. “He’s gonna be a big deal, that one.”
“Maybe.” I take a long sip. “At least he won’t be boring.”
She nods, absently plucking at the threads at the bottom of her shirt, and I realize how much I don’t hate this. Being in her company.
“How did you do it, anyway—raise him so well? I mean, you were basically a kid yourself during the hardest years.”
I don’t look at her. Just swirl the beer in my glass. “You just do it.”
“There’s more to it than that?”
I shrug, letting the memory hit for a second—the middle-of-the-night feedings when he was six months old, the cries that never stopped, trying to figure out kids Tylenol, how the fuck to even shower. Sleepless, tired, terrified… but never letting him see it.
“Didn’t have a choice. Had to step up and be a fucking man.” The words come out rougher than I planned. Truth usually does.
She keeps searching my face like there’s light in there somewhere. Like there’s something good under all this damage.
There ain’t. Not for her. Not for anyone.
She lifts her hand slowly, like she’s giving me time to pull back, and smooths the crooked edge of my collar. Her fingers graze my skin, light but electric.
“You act like you don’t give a damn about anything,” she says softly. “But your eyes give you away.”
“You might catch a glimpse of who I am, Winnie, but you don’t wanna know the rest.”
She doesn’t want to see how dark I really am. How many demons I have inside.
“Try me.” She tilts her head, studying me like she’s trying to read every shadow. “How much worse can it get? I mean… you are my fake boyfriend, aren’t you? Feels like I should know more about you—for research purposes.”
“If you knew, you’d run.”
“I don’t scare easily,” she whispers. “Thought you’d figured that out by now.”
“You think you want the truth about me, but you don’t.”
She smiles—slow, defiant, wrapped in lip gloss.
“See... that's the part I'm not buying. What's the worst that could happen if I really got to know you?” she asks, being bold again. “I like being around you.”
She steps closer until the toe of her boot bumps mine.
“Maybe,” she says, looking up at me, “it's fun watching you pretend none of this affects you.”
“It doesn’t.”
“Really?” she asks. “Because last night you seemed awfully committed to those kissing lessons.”
My jaw flexes.
“You wanted to learn. I don’t do half-ass.”
“Mm.” She nods thoughtfully. “I did learn something.”
“Yeah?”
Before I can think better of it, she leans in until her lips barely brush the shell of my ear. “I know what happens when I kiss you here.”
“Winnie,” I drawl. “You keep puttin' your mouth on me and you're gonna start something I don't know how to stop.”
She smiles.
“See?” she whispers. “Seems like I affect you more than you're willing to admit.”
Somehow she's got me wantin’ things I've spent years swearin' I didn't need. And I damn sure shouldn’t be thinking of all the dirty things I wanna do to her. I lock my hands where they are before they decide they've got better ideas than I do.
“Stop while you’re ahead.”
She tips her head, that wicked little smile flashing like she already knows she’s winning.
“Oh yeah? And what exactly are you gonna do about it?”
My smirk comes slow, dangerous. “You’re playin’ a real risky game, sweetheart.”
Her eyes darken as she drifts closer. Close enough I can feel her heat.
“I like taking risks.”
I hook a finger under her chin, tipping her face up. Her pulse jumps at her throat, pupils blown wide like she’s daring me to make the next move.
“You’re gonna be a problem for me,” I say, thumb tracing her jaw.
That smile spreads—pure challenge.
“Then I guess you’d better get used to it.”
Honey shows up out of nowhere, eyes bright, mischief written all over her face.
“Alright, lovebirds. Time to spice this party up.”
I squint at her. “I don’t like the sound of that.”
“We’re playing a game,” she says simply.
I shake my head. “Nope.”
She points at us. “Too late. It’s already decided.”
Winnie looks between us, amused. Curious.
I get the feeling whatever this is, it’s about to complicate my life.
I take Winnie’s hand anyway.
Drinking games are always a bad idea. But those have never stopped me.