by Lynn Cahoon
“Oh, I think we’re about done,” Taylor said at the same time as Jesse nodded.
He grinned at her. “We still haven’t ironed out the details of who gets credit for the contract we signed this afternoon.” He stood and spoke to Maggie. “Bring the pitcher over to the dart board. Is my dart case still under the bar?”
“Of course.” Maggie nodded at Taylor. “I’ll bring you a good set, too. If you have a chance against this guy it won’t be with house darts.” Then she disappeared into the back room.
“Why do I feel like the two of you are speaking a foreign language? What the heck are house darts?” Taylor followed Jesse deeper into the bar. They stopped in front of three flashing, soft-tip dartboards. On the floor lay a piece of vinyl marking the throw line. Taylor pointed to the neon orange strip. “Where’s the women’s tee?”
Jesse pressed his lips together, trying to suppress a laugh, but Taylor saw it.
“What dumb thing did I say now?” Taylor set her purse on the floor next to a table where Jesse had laid out a handful of quarters and his beer glass. She drained her glass and set it on the table as well.
“You’re thinking about golf. There’s not a shorter throw line for women.” He cocked his head and looked at her. “Unless you’re just playing me? No way you could have gotten out of college without playing one game of darts at a local dive bar.”
“I don’t know where you went to school, but my college days were filled with hours in the library museum studying the masters.”
Maggie set a case down on the table for Jesse and handed Taylor a set of heavy darts. In her other hand she held a set of three neon-yellow plastic darts that she held up for Taylor to see.
“These are house darts.” Maggie handed them to Taylor. “Take one and compare the weight with the others.”
Taylor felt the light, cheap plastic dart. She looked at Maggie. “So heavier is better?”
Jesse held out his own darts, and Taylor took one, comparing it to the other two. She glanced up, frowning. He grinned. “It depends on the thrower. My darts are almost as light as house darts, even though they’re titanium.”
“And pricey as hell,” Maggie added. “You don’t know how many people I have to take that case away from. I think you should consider taking it home with you.”
“I don’t play anywhere but here.” Jesse took the dart back and walked up to the line. He leaned his body over the vinyl tape, reached out his arm and threw his first dart. It landed just outside the bull’s-eye.
Taylor watched as he adjusted his stance. Jesse lined up his body so his right shoulder was parallel to the bull’s-eye on the board. By the third dart, he’d hit his target. Crap, what had she gotten herself into?
She handed the house dart back to Maggie with a slight smile. “I guess I better get practicing.”
Maggie watched Jesse throw another three darts. “My money’s on you. Jesse’s a great player when his head’s in the game. But I think he’s got something else on his mind tonight.” She grinned at Taylor. “Nice to meet you. I hope you come back, with or without that one.”
“I hear you,” Jesse called out from the line, continuing to throw.
Taylor poured a fresh glass of beer from the pitcher Maggie had brought. “I just might have to do that.”
They threw darts for over ten minutes before Jesse stopped and returned to the table. He poured himself another beer and watched her for a while.
Conscious of his eyes on her, Taylor tried to focus on the way the dart felt when it left her hand. She thought about where she wanted it to land. Not too hard, not too soft, the power behind the dart had to be just right to keep it flying in the direction of the intended target. Finally, she returned to the table, laying her darts down to take a sip from her glass.
“You’re good,” Jesse said. “So I guess I was right about the college dive bar obsession.”
“No. Like I said, in college I focused on studying. It was after I graduated that I fell in love with dive bars.”
“That’s my girl.” Jesse smiled. Her heart was beating too fast. The bar suddenly felt hot. Had he meant the words, or was that a casual throwaway line for Jesse the heartbreaker? He continued before she could say anything. “Now about that wager.”
“When did we say we were playing darts to settle this?”
Jesse glanced around the bar. “Shuffleboard, pool, or Hunter’s Gallery?”
Taylor followed his gaze. She’d never shot a gun in her life, real or virtual. Shuffleboard seemed, well, just wrong. And pool, she knew she totally sucked there. “Fine, darts. But we need rules.”
“I win three out of five games, and you sleep with me.” Jesse toyed with the quarters.
“What did you say?” Taylor couldn’t breathe.
He grinned his million-dollar smile that Taylor bet worked on most women. “Just seeing if you were paying attention.” He leaned closer. “Rules. Three out of five, winner of each game goes first, loser chooses the game. Winner at the end gets credit for the contract.”
Taylor hesitated, wondering just how good Jesse was at this game. Maybe she should laugh his idea off and offer to share the credit. She watched him continue to juggle the quarters. “Winner of each game buys the drinks.”
His eyes widened—she’d surprised him. That could work in her favor. She nodded to the board. “Go set it up and let’s get this match started.”
She won the first game, surprising both herself and Jesse. For her first win, she ordered two shots of cinnamon firewater, a drink her father had bought her when she’d turned of-age. No one could handle the burn unless they’d been indoctrinated into the firewater family. She’d surprised him again with the order. She was definitely keeping the boy on his toes.
When he won the second game, Taylor wasn’t surprised. She should have seen Jesse’s tequila shot order as a warning sign. However, the beer and firewater had already dulled the part of her brain screaming at her that this was a terrible idea.
He looked smug when she chose Cricket, a game where you had to hit your target. He must have thought that’s why he was winning. Taylor knew better; she was just warming up. She’d been less than honest about her dart history, but he didn’t need to know that.
When she won game three, he stood motionless, staring at her. “You’ve played before,” he said.
Shrugging, she ordered another firewater shot.
He tapped her hand. “You keep a lot of secrets, you know.”
She watched him shoot the drink, slamming the empty glass upside down on the tray. Buddy, you have no idea.
Chapter 7
Two hours later, they stumbled into the back of a taxi Maggie had called to take them to a local hotel. “Take us somewhere that has late-night room service.”
The man in the front laughed. “Do you know where you are? Ontario’s not a big city. Besides, with the livestock show in town, Maggie was lucky to get you a room anywhere.”
“Maggie got us a room?” Jesse’s head hurt trying to follow the taxi driver’s words. He never felt alcohol. Of course, he’d never mixed firewater with tequila before. Taylor twisted him in more ways than he cared to admit. She confused him. Especially when she laid her head on his shoulder after they got into the cab. Her blond hair tickled his cheek, and the floral smell of her hair flooded his senses. Food, they needed food.
“Two rooms. She got us two rooms, right?” Taylor murmured from his chest, apparently still alive.
He smiled at her drunken defiance. The girl had backbone, that much was obvious. “Can we stop by a drive-in on the way to the motel?”
“Best burgers in town up ahead on your right. Will that work?” The taxi driver looked at him in the rearview. Jesse saw his eyes drop to Taylor in an appreciative glance.
Why wasn’t this girl dating, engaged, or hell, even married off? Jesse couldn’t imagine. Then Angie’s voice echoed in his head when he complained about everyone hooking up around him. “You’re just waiting for the one.” Mayb
e that was Taylor’s problem, too. She hadn’t found the one. He turned his focus back to the driver. “Works for me.”
The car slowed as they pulled into the drive-through, and the driver inched the car forward so Jesse could order. “A monster cheeseburger with bacon.” He stopped when Taylor lifted her head.
“Two. With curly fries. And a large coke,” she mumbled to herself and laid her head back down.
Jesse smiled and repeated the order into the speaker. He pulled his wallet out and paid for the food. The smell of grease and beef made his stomach growl as soon as the server handed him a large bag.
Taylor lifted her head and shifted in her seat in order to take a drink from one of the cups. A loud burp seemed to surprise her when it followed. “God, don’t let me drink with you again. Can’t you ever let someone win?”
Jesse opened the bag and offered her a fry. She grabbed a handful, glancing around the dark streets. “Where are we going?”
The driver answered her. “Cowboy’s Bunk Motel over on King Street. Maggie knows the owner.”
Jesse glanced at the taxi driver’s posted license for a name. “Todd, you seem to know a lot about Maggie.”
The kid, in his early twenties, blushed. “I kind of hang out there when I’m not driving.”
Jesse wondered if the kid hung out for the food or to see Amanda. He’d bet from the reaction, it was Amanda.
In less than five minutes, they were at the motel. Jesse helped Taylor out of the cab and paid Todd, adding in a hefty tip. The older woman at the desk turned down the television she’d been watching. “You must be Jesse and Taylor. Your room is at the end of the row.” She slid a key toward them. “Fifty bucks. Cash, check, or charge, doesn’t matter to me.”
“Two rooms,” Taylor said.
The woman’s eyebrows rose as she looked at the two. Jesse felt her take in their inebriated state, the bags of takeout, and then the woman laughed. “Sorry, girly. You’re just going to have to make up with your stud muffin ’cause you got the last room I had.”
“He’s not my stud muffin,” Taylor mumbled.
Jesse hoped he’d be able to get her to the room before she fell asleep. He slid the cash toward the motel clerk and smiled. “One room will be fine, thanks.” He took the key and put his hand on Taylor’s back, steering her out the door toward the overhang. The motel’s rooms all opened up onto the parking lot, and Jesse found theirs at the end of the row. The Cowboy’s Bunk looked like it had been built in the fifties and had never seen a remodel. It was so out of date that it’d now qualify as retro-modern.
He unlocked the door, worried what they’d find. When he flipped on the light, he was pleasantly surprised. The room was clean and smelled of lemon. He set the food sack on the small table in front of the window and unpacked their late-night snack.
Taylor fell into one of the chairs. “You won.”
“You’ve already forgotten?” He sat across from her, unwrapping his burger.
She glared at him as she took a large bite, wiped her mouth, and responded. “Nope, just stating a fact. I worked that artist for years, and you walk in, and in one visit you convince him to use the gallery.”
“What can I say, I’m good with people. It’s all those years of interviews on the rodeo circuit. People are drawn to happy people.” He dipped a fry into the special sauce provided. “These would be better with horseradish sauce.”
“You’re saying I’m not a happy person?” Taylor pointed her half-eaten burger at him.
“Sometimes, I think you aren’t happy at all. Not at work, not in your own skin.” He stroked the top of her hand holding the burger. “Why aren’t you happy, Taylor? You’ve got it all.”
A laugh erupted. “Seriously? What do I have?”
“A family who loves you. A great job. An amazing education. Friends. You look like a million bucks.” Jesse shook his head. “What don’t you have?”
Taylor polished off her hamburger before answering. “I live with my parents. The only person who ever noticed anything I did, my grandfather, died last year. I work too much and have no life outside the gallery and the events my folks insist I attend.” She flipped her hair back. “The good looks are genetic. Not something I earned, or even worked at, so they don’t count. Besides, there are a lot of pretty women. I want to be more than that.”
“So you’re not dating anyone?” Jesse pressed, his heart slowing a bit while he waited for an answer.
“That’s what you take away from this entire discussion? I’m admitting to my failed life, and you focus on my dating schedule?” Taylor wadded up the wrapper and threw it into the bag. “Three points.”
“Bag’s too close—I’ll give you two.” Jesse smiled. “I don’t think you have a failed life. Look at me.”
“Three or four time bull riding champion? Now working on owning an art gallery along with what, one or two working ranches?” Taylor sipped on her drink. “Sounds like a complete failure to me.”
“Look past the trappings. My brother is married to his high school sweetheart with three kids now. My manager just found her soulmate, even though she had to marry the guy twice to realize it.” Jesse wadded his own wrappings up, leaned back, and shot. The paper landed gracefully inside the paper bag. “And I don’t own a speck of land. The place I stay at in Boise is my brother’s. Tell me, who’s the loser?”
“Then get married. Have baby bull riders. There must be a lot of women out there wanting to play that role.” Taylor rolled her eyes. “Like Amanda.”
“I think our taxi driver has his heart set on little Miss Amanda. I wonder if she knows it yet.” He chuckled. “But you’re right; there are plenty of women who want to ‘play’ the part.” He used air quotes to emphasize his words.
“You don’t know who you’ll fall in love with until you try.”
He shook his head. “Now, I think you’re wrong there. You can’t try to be in love. Either it happens, or it doesn’t. Believe me, I’ve tried out a lot of women.”
“You sound like a man whore.” She laughed.
“I probably was.” He stared at her face, noticing the curve that he’d tried so hard to capture that day in class. No, he hadn’t ever been in love. Not before. Now all he could do was think about her. Make excuses to be with her. Even now, sitting so close to her, a bed within arm’s reach, all he wanted to do was reach out and touch her face. To let his fingers trace the curve that had eluded him as he tried to sketch her.
“Now you want true love?” she asked, her voice breathless.
“Would you believe me if I said yes?” Jesse touched her hand, one finger caressing the open palm.
“Tonight? I’d believe you if you told me you were Elvis reincarnated.” She smiled and leaned forward, kissing him over the table, her lips so soft, but so needy. His head swam in images. Taylor laughing at the opening, her thoughtful gaze during the visit to the artist, the wind blowing through her hair on the drive here. Taylor. Something clicked in the back of his mind as if he’d been looking for her all his life. He pulled her closer, wanting more. The smell of cinnamon alcohol broke through the spell.
He gently pushed her aside. “You’re drunk.”
“True, but I know what I want. Let me just be Taylor. Just for tonight.” She stood and held out her hand to him. “I promise I’ll respect you in the morning.”
And he went to her.
• • •
Sunlight streamed into the room through a crack in the cowboy-print curtains. Her head pounded. She rolled away from the light to face the bathroom, and realized she was alone in the bed. Taylor sat up, pulling the sheet around her. She took in the room that had seemed charming last night. In the bright morning light the décor just seemed walk-of-shame sad.
A bottle of water and a single-use pack of extra-strength OTC painkiller sat on the end table next to a note. She picked it up and read aloud to the empty room. “Take these. See you soon. Your ride will be here at nine. Jesse.”
She shook her head
, then winced at the pain. Unscrewing the cap, she took the painkillers and then downed the water. Stupid to get drunk with Jesse Sullivan. Stupid to open her heart. If she remembered correctly, she’d been the one to say, “Yes, let’s have wild monkey sex.” All after, he’d told her he was looking for more than just a good time. She was now a part of Jesse’s harem.
She closed her eyes, remembering last night. How gentle he’d been. How his gaze had searched her face. She had vague memories of kissing and touching. Had they done anything more? She couldn’t remember. Her clearest memory was of cuddling with Jesse while he mumbled words she couldn’t quite remember into her ear. He kept repeating her name, over and over. Taylor, Taylor.
“Stop it.” She forced her eyes open and glanced at the clock. 8:30. If his note was right, she’d be out of here in thirty minutes. She headed to the shower to wash away the memories of last night from her body, and hopefully, from her mind.
The knock on the door came right at nine. Dressed in last night’s clothes, Taylor grabbed her purse and checked herself out in the mirror. No way around it, she looked like the poster child for the walk of shame. Grimacing, she opened the door.
Angie stood there, her big hair gleaming in the sunshine. For the love of God, was she wearing a leopard-print stretch jumpsuit with kitten heels? She jangled keys in front of her.
“Hey. You look … Well, let’s just get you home so you can freshen up before you go into the gallery.”
Taylor opened the door wider, letting Angie in. “How did you get here?” Glancing around the parking lot she saw only one car parked a few slots down.
“Jesse called me. He left early for Boise and didn’t want to wake you. He’s got to leave on time for the rodeo this weekend. If he misses another interview, Barb’s going to wring his neck.” She glanced at her watch. “He left about two hours ago. I’ve been having coffee with Maggie.”
“He called you to come and get me?” Taylor didn’t know if she was still a little woozy from last night, or if she’d just stepped into a weird Jesse-world where his mommy cleaned up his one-night stand mistakes. She figured the latter. They walked over to the car, and Taylor slid into the passenger seat.
