Pit Stop: Baby! (Crescent Cove 4)

Hello, Caramel.

He matched the word in every way. Dark blond hair cut close, along with a scruffy face that was just beyond sandpaper to that perfect buzz that could make the very best friction when used correctly.

His smirk told me he was aware of his appeal. It remained to be seen if the smirk came with a boatload of asshole or charm.

But it was the eyes that had me sunk. Barrel-aged whiskey—my favorite. Even in the dim bar, they glowed hot and interested.

Did I mention my clit was doing a salsa beat? No? It sure was.

Unfortunately, I had just enough of said barrel-aged whiskey in my system to drown out self-preservation.

“What do you have in that perfect ass pocket?”

I grinned up at him. “Three hundred.”

Lies. But if I could take him for a little more…

He glanced around at the men who were suddenly finding their boots very interesting. “Is that right? Then obviously you are needing a bit of a trouncing.”

I turned back to the board. “So, that’s a bet then?”

“Don’t want to shake on it?” His voice came from right behind me. Far too close.

But remember that little mention about too much whiskey? Yeah, tequila had nothing on whiskey when it came to me.

I turned until we were almost lined up. I nibbled on my lower lip as I stared at his full, mack-worthy mouth. There was something about a man who had full lips. No teeth mashing would be a part of our future.

Because I was going to taste that mouth if it was the last thing I did tonight.

I locked my gaze with his. “Sure, we can seal the deal.” I rested my hand on his chest and went up on my toes.

His eyes went wide with surprise as I gripped the deceptively gorgeous cashmere of his sweater. Not exactly the kind of guy who belonged in a dive bar. I yanked him down and covered his mouth in a quick, hot kiss.

I was expecting a little buzz, but not this. Not the urge to drag him down closer. Usually, I was more talk than action when it came to men. I enjoyed flirting and could spin it out for ages without it ever coming to anything.

This fried my plans and my circuits like a…

Hmm. I didn’t really have a likeness in my electrified brain. And it was not because of the whiskey.

He rocked back on his heels, but not before his long fingers slid along my lower back. His fingers were not as soft as the sweater, which made him all the more intriguing. I’d been expecting paper-pusher hands. “Not exactly what I had in mind.”

“It’s a big bet.” I stepped away and turned back to the board. My fingers trembled a little. Damn, that probably hadn’t been my best move. “What was the shot?”

“Don’t remember?”

Nope. I sure didn’t. “Thought it might have been too easy, but didn’t want to make life harder for myself if I didn’t have to.”

“Double bullseye within three quick throws.”

I tipped my head with a slow smile. “Do you do everything quick?”

His low laugh made all the things jangle inside me. “Loaded question.”

“If you have to think about it too much, then I probably don’t want to know.” I picked up my lucky dart with two of the others on the table. I straightened my shoulders and got into position.

I shot off the first two, and a light, warm breeze floated by my ear a la Kevin Costner’s Robin Hood. The third nailed the rim of one of the wires and clattered to the floor. My lucky fucking purple dart.

I whirled on him, my hands on my hips. “What the fuck?”