Page 2 of Penalty Shot

It takes me a second to process what she said because that’s more words than I usually exchange with a woman I plan to take home.

“Didn’t stop you though, did it? All that scolding.” I shake her hand. “Randall. Nice to meet you Elise.”

“This is a tawdry neighborhood bar. What’s a bunch of guys in Armani shirts doing here?”

“My friend wanted to check the place out,” I say while pulling on my Armani collar. No point hiding what she already noticed. She laughs, and I want to hear it again. “Besides, who says cheap bars aren’t for everyone?”

“How egalitarian of you.”

My eyes narrow. I can’t be the only one who thinks that’s a weird thing to say, right? It makes me want to pay attention.

“Should I be insulted? Or is egalitarian your way of saying you want to buy me dinner.” Either way is fine with me as long as she keeps talking.

“God, I sound like a jackass. I’m sorry.” She bites down her lower lip. “We came out of a Regency play. Closed tonight, which is why we’re celebrating.She Stoops to Conqueris all kinds of pretentious. Egalitarian is just a fancy way of saying you think all are equal,” she makes a sweeping gesture at her drunk friends and my thirsty teammates. “It is a noble sentiment.”

Yelps of appreciation erupt when two servers bring over massive trays full of beers and shots. I grab two shooter glasses and hand one to her.

“Alcohol tends to bring out the noble egalitarian in me,” I say. “Cheers!”

We take the shots. Her eyes widen with appreciation.

“That’s top-shelf vodka,” she says. “Way better than the buck shots.”

I tilt my head at my Russian teammates down the table like that’s some kind of explanation. Truth is, I don’t want to talk about Russians and their obsession with vodka. I’d rather hear about Elise.

“What’s a Regency play?”

“Puffy dresses, tall wigs, and tea parties. There’s usually a sex scandal involved that no one explicitly talks about. ThinkGossip Girlmeets Jane Austen. If you’re lucky, there are swords.”

“Did you play with swords tonight, Elise?” I ask flirtatiously, looking down at her glistening bottom lip.

She shakes her head and rolls her eyes. “I was the assistant director. I wielded a whip.”

My grin widens at the thought of her with a whip, telling people what to do. Fucking hot. Suddenly, something occurs to me.

“If she stoops—that’s the title of the play, right?—how is that egalitarian?”

Her eyes brighten with interest and she’s about to say something when an argument arises over the bustle. A girl from her group is leaning over the table and pointing at another one of my teammates, Gordon. There’s a shooter glass between them.

“I nailed my performance tonight. If anyone should get the last shot, it should be me.”

“Not sure about that,” Gordon says, leaning over as well. “We won our game, so that counts for something.”

I snicker because my teammate does not give a shit about the vodka. He’s not even much of a drinker. He’s doing it to rile up the drama star.

“Artistry trumps athleticism,” Elise says, looking up at me with a wink. “Our lead Lily brought the house down tonight.”

“And Gordon here scored the winning goal,” I say. “Looks like this needs to be settled some other way.”

“With sharp wit and searing commentary?” a guy says dryly. It’s someone from their group staring at Gordon so intensely, it’s making everyone uncomfortable.

“More like sharp needles,” I blurt. “Who’s up for a game of darts?”

That releases some tension. Elise tilts her head my way and nods. Fortunately, I’ve bought myself some time with the whip-wielding assistant director in a tattered orange shirt.

A few of us head to a room with pool tables and darts. Everyone prefers to stand, but we need a place to put our drinks so we pull together two counter-height round tables beside the throwing areas.

I don’t bother tracking teams or keeping score. When I’m handed the darts, I rush through my turn then park myself by Elise.