Chapter 5
Gage
Celeste’s grey eyes illuminate like a lightning storm as she threatens to kick my ass at darts. There is no doubt in my mind that she can, but I have a feeling we are both equally competitive about winning. I’ve been throwing darts since I started working here as a teenager.
She takes them with a brush of her fingers to mine, and smirks.
Her warning about not going easy on me has me all too aware that I need to let her know she’s safe with me back here, and that we can keep up our fun teasing.
It’s the first time we’ve ever been alone with each other, and it’s making my heart pump a little too forcefully.
“Fine with me. After you,” I tell her with a sweeping arm to motion her forward to the line.
Her first throw hits a triple on the 20, and I curse.
She chuckles and throws again, this time getting closer to the bullseye on the 19.
Her third hits the double line on the 14.
She goes up to the scoreboard and marks the 107 total, bringing her score down to 394 already.
The object is to be the first to get the score to 0, and finish by hitting either the bullseye or the double line.
“Ok, ok, not bad,” I tell her as she approaches me, holding out the darts with a smug smile for me to take my turn.
“Hmmm, think you can do better?” she challenges.
“Only one way to find out,” I say as I roll my shoulders.
I move forward to the line and take aim, watching my first throw hit a double on 18 with a satisfying thump.
Another throw. Thump. It hits the bullseye, and I whoop at the same time I hear her curse.
I look back at her, and can’t help but laugh at her gorgeously disgruntled expression.
The way her eyes are flashing and narrowed, her cheeks a little pink, and her brow knitted with determination to do better next time, should not be so completely endearing.
She shakes her head ruefully when she sees me laugh and gives me a shy smile.
My third throw hits a double for 11, putting my score at 108.
We’re in a dead heat, with me just a point ahead.
When I offer her the darts back with a bump to her shoulder, I even get her to laugh.
“Ok, I’m not holding back this round since you’re apparently a ringer,” she jokes.
“What did I say about never going easy on me?” I tease back.
She most definitely does not go easy this time. She racks up 120 points in her second round, including a bullseye. Her confidence and ease is starting to shine through. The woman actually boops my nose as she says, “Your turn,” in a playful singsong.
Just that small touch and the whiff of something spiced and floral from her wrist so close to my nose makes me want to draw her closer, wrap my arm tightly around her, but I hold myself in check.
My chest pinches painfully seeing her smiling and laughing now like she usually does when she’s here, and that I’m the one who’s making it happen.
Her downcast face completely gutted me when she first walked in, even though she tried to mask it.
“So is it working? Throwing pointy things?” I ask with my back to her as I take my first throw. Damn it. Only a 16, just shy of the bullseye. I look back at her, and she has her arms crossed across her chest, holding her wine with a soft expression.
“Yeah, it’s working. Thanks, Gage,” she replies quietly.
“Anytime. You know, I am a bartender.”
“You don’t say,” she deadpans.
“That means listening is approximately two-thirds of my job, if you need someone to listen. I’m pretty good at it.”
I turn back around, the thunk of my second dart hitting a double on 20 slightly mingling with the muffled music and noise pouring down the hallway from the main bar.
In spite of that, it feels like we’re in our own little bubble back here, the noise a faraway din that doesn’t concern us.
I throw my third dart squarely into the triple 12 slot.
Because of the little bubble we’re in, I’m so attuned to her when I finally hear her sigh quietly.
I go back to hand her the darts, which she takes, bringing her other hand up to briefly squeeze my shoulder.
“You’ve done plenty just by taking me back here and getting my mind off of things with a game,” she says. “It’s just been a long, tough day that you’ve thankfully made better. Can I get back to kicking your ass now?”
I can’t help throwing my head back laughing.
“By all means, do your worst.”
Just as she steps up to the line, I hear the all too familiar voice of my dad calling my name. I haven’t seen him in the few days since he announced his bullshit marriage decree, but it’s impossible for me to stay too mad at him. I know he’s doing it because he thinks it’ll help me.
“I’m back here, Dad, playing darts,” I call. Celeste is tense as she steps back from the line and turns toward me.
“Am I about to get you in trouble?” she asks with a worried divot in her brow.
“Not at all. I didn’t even know he’d be coming in tonight, but he’ll be thrilled the dart board is getting some use,” I assure her. He comes down the hallway just then, smiling at me, then smiling even bigger when he sees Celeste.
“Hey, pops! Didn’t know you were coming in, what’s up?” He brings me into a backslapping hug.
“Just checking on things and going over the books with Wayne, he came in too. Now please introduce me to this lovely lady,” he says as he turns toward Celeste.
“This is my friend Celeste. Celeste, this is my dad, Julio Cabrera.”
My dad extends his hand toward her, and I know she clocks the slight tremor in it as she hesitantly takes it, giving him a firm shake.
“Nice to meet you, Mr. Cabrera,” she says respectfully, which I know will win points with him.
“Please, just Julio is fine. It’s great to meet any friend of Gagey’s,” he tells her, letting go and giving me an approving side eye.
I like her, his expression says.
My eyes flick to Celeste, and her face is a portrait of mischief as she mouths, “Gagey?” with pure delight in her eyes. Focusing back on my dad, he could not possibly be more obvious about how excited he is to find me chatting and playing darts with a beautiful woman.
“I’ll let you two get back to your game, I just wanted to say hi. You’re coming by for dinner this weekend with Wayne, Gina, and the kids, right son?”
“Yep, I’ll be there. See you then.” He gives me another quick hug before turning to the poor woman at my side.
“It was wonderful to meet you, Celeste,” he tells her with a brief pat to her shoulder.
“It was great to meet you, too,” she tells him with a smile. He goes back down the hallway with one last long look at me, and then we’re alone again. I meet Celeste’s amused expression.
“Your dad seems great. Are you close, Gagey?”
I snort.
“Never going to hear the end of that, am I?”
“Not a chance, because I love it so much. In all seriousness though, he seems like a great guy.”
“He’s amazing. It’s just been him, my brother Wayne, and me since I was small.” Her amused expression shutters, concern replacing it.
“What about your mom?” she asks quietly.
“She ran off when I was 4 and Wayne was 9. I haven’t heard from her since, and barely remember her.
” I tell her with a shrug. “She left a note saying she couldn’t do it anymore, wasn’t cut out to be a wife and mother.
It shattered my dad, he worshipped her. They fought, but I think he always believed they could talk through it and work it out. ”
Well, that was a fun little tangent of trauma dumping that I did not intend. I’m waiting for her to scoff, or blow me off for still feeling bitter and abandoned twenty-six years later.
“I’m so sorry, Gage,” she says with some emotion I can’t identify.
Her eyes have become the dark grey turbulence of storm clouds, swirling down to their depths with whatever she’s feeling.
“If it means anything, I know how it feels to be abandoned by the people who are supposed to love you the most.”
I swallow hard as she lays her hand on mine to squeeze it. We’ve strayed a little closer together, and she’s looking up at me through her lashes with those eyes that still look haunted.
“It does mean something,” I tell her hoarsely. Wanting to steer things far away from our wonderful, apparently shared, abandonment issues, I blurt out, “My dad is still a romantic who believes in love though, can you imagine? He’s not even going to let me own the bar until I get married.”
She adorably scrunches her nose in distaste.
“What is this, the middle ages? So what if you don’t get married?”
I can’t help playfully shoving her shoulder as I exclaim, “That’s exactly what I said!”
“Sooo, what, if you don’t get married he’s going to disinherit you? That’s fucked up.” Her head is tilted with curiosity. I wave a dismissive hand.
“He feels responsible for making me not want to get married or fall in love. I just never want anyone to shatter me the way my mom wrecked him, so I guess he’s right in a way.
Now he’s trying to fix my commitment phobia by forcing me into it if I want this bar, when I’ve been gearing up to take it over since I was a teenager,” I explain.
“What are you going to do?”
“I suppose I’m getting married at some point in the near future.
I don’t want to, but I’m not losing this place because my dad is misguided.
I’ll make a good show of trying it out, get the bar, and then the marriage will most likely fall apart.
Poof, everything will be back to how it’s supposed to be. ”
Celeste looks dubious.
“What if your would be wife tries to take half of everything, including the very bar you got married for if it all falls apart?” she asks with an arched eyebrow. Well, shit. Then I snap my fingers as the solution comes to me.
“I’ll get a prenup, lay it all out beforehand. She’ll know going in that she won’t get any of my assets,” I say triumphantly.
“The soaring kind of romance every woman dreams of when she goes into marriage,” she chokes out with a dry laugh.