“Come on, Trouble.”
His laughter followed close behind me as I left the department store and stopped at the nearest map. “Eva Vargas, you are more fun than you let on.”
His words pleased me, and that pissed me off. I didn’t need his, or anyone’s, validation. “Thanks,” I snorted. “I’ll definitely make sure you get a spot in Olive’s etiquette class, Prince Charming. You can definitely use it.” He was as charming as they came, but with me, his compliments landed like lead bricks. “And I’m plenty fun, thank you very much.” It wasn’t the first time a good-time guy had questioned my ability to have fun, and I doubted it’d be the last. It was a curse faced by all serious women with too many curves.
“Yeah? What do you do for fun, color code your recipes? Alphabetize your DVD collection?”
I nodded. “Yep, I double-check it every night before we gather to churn butter.”
“Smart ass.”
“Possibly. Who can really say with these things?” Why was it so fun sparring with him now when usually, I wanted to strangle him? Had the impossible happened? Had I been charmed by Oliver March?
“Partner with me for the Mayflower Dart Tournament?” At my startled expression, he misunderstood and explained. “Every Wednesday, there’s a dart tournament. Half-priced beer for all participants and a hundred bucks plus bragging rights for the winner. Sounds fun, doesn’t it?”
He was teasing me. Taunting me. And, like a sucker, I took the bait. “Sure. If you need my help, I’m happy to give it. What time?”
“I didn’t say I needed help,” he began, because his giant ego wouldn’t allow him to let it go.
“So, you don’t need my help to win the tournament? Then I think I’ll pass—”
“All right. Fine. I could use your help. Happy?”
I nodded. “What time?”
“Seven.”
I glanced at my phone. “It’s already after six.” And a quick look down at my pencil skirt and stilettos said I wasn’t dressed for darts.
“You look great,” he said easily. “But we can stop by your place if you’d feel more comfortable in something else.”
And that was the second time Oliver March surprised me. Being not just helpful, but considerate of someone else’s feelings. That meant he wasn’t a total jerk, which meant he could be helped. So, I had to help, which meant letting him inside my home. “That’d be great, thanks. But we still need to find shoes for you.”
“I have shoes. You can stop by my place sometime and see them,” he said, tugging me toward the exit and ignoring all the interested looks women sent his way.
I laughed. “Sounds like you’re inviting me to see your etchings.”
“Etchings? Hardly,” he laughed. “But maybe my killer DVD collection?”
I groaned and shook my head.
“What?”
“Knowing that makes you more likable for some reason.”
“And you don’t want to like me,” he guessed easily.
“Do I want to like the man trying to discredit me and ruin my business? No. Not just no, but hell no.”
“I’ll fix that,” he said easily. “Next time, we can look for sexy male lingerie for the all-important third date. Is that a thing?”
I rolled my eyes, barely resisting the urge to laugh. But it was more than just funny—it was a good reminder of who this was and what his goals were.
Most of all, it was an important reminder of what was at stake.OliverI had started this day with a very clear plan outlined to make Eva toss her hands in the air and give up, so I could win the bet without going through with a bunch of dates from hell. How had I ended up standing inside Eva’s nicely decorated home, looking at photos of her family and friends?
That was a good damn question, and one I couldn’t answer. Only she had intrigued me all day, calling me on my shit whenever I was being a dick to her on purpose. Her snide, sarcastic remarks and the way she kept me on track when I was determined to distract her. It was too damn appealing, and so here I was, staring at photos of her and a talk, dark, and handsome man who could be her brother. Or a good-looking lover. “You have a brother who’s a cop?”
“No,” she called out from her bedroom and I tried like hell to ignore the sounds that said she was taking off clothes. “That’s my cousin Antonio. He lives and serves over in Tulip.”
“The town with the big-ass statue of that woman and all the business named after flowers or gardening?”
Eva’s laugh sounded thick and husky.
“Yep, that’s the one.”
“No siblings?” Asking Eva personal questions didn’t count, because this wasn’t a date and she wasn’t a target for seduction. She was just Eva. An enemy, a sometimes friend, and occasional dart partner.
“None,” she said after a short pause. “You?”
“A brother who’s older and a younger sister. I love them both, but they’re a pain.” She laughed again and I felt a bit more at ease as I wandered around her living room and open dining room that separated the living space from the kitchen, noting the vibrant colors that were everywhere—from the furniture to the artwork on the walls and even the frames that held cherished memories. “Did you paint these?”