Page 19 of Royal Trouble
“Don’t be. I’m not. It was a rather freeing realization, actually. It allowed me to let go of their impossible expectations and live my life on my own terms.” He drained his glass. “As much as I can anyway.”
“So you enjoyed the academy?” she asked, trying to steer the conversation back to lighter topics. She needed his guard down, but she also needed a story that wouldn’t damn her soul to the ninth circle of hell.
“Don’t get me wrong, the academy was brutal, but I loved every minute of it, and soldiering came easily enough.” He flashed a grin. “Turns out I’m a fine athletic specimen, and believe it or not, some people actually find me charming.”
“Because charm is so high on the list of requirements for serving in the military.” She rolled her eyes. This fucking guy. “Honestly, it’s like you can’t go five minutes without complimenting yourself.”
And still, he was melting her defenses with self-deprecating humor and naked vulnerability.
Xander winked as the barkeep delivered fresh pints and scooped up their empty glasses. “Just trying to point out some of my finer qualities, since you seem impervious to said charm.”
Everly laughed in spite of herself. “All right, hot shot. You want to show off your athletic prowess? We’ll make a game of it.”
“What do you have in mind?” he asked, his voice taking on a seductive edge that had her considering other games they might play.
Down, girl.
“Grab a bottle of vodka from the bar and meet me at the dartboard.”
She hopped to her feet and swaggered toward the back of the bar, swaying her hips more than was strictly necessary. She considered herself a feminist, but with the stakes this high, she wasn’t above deploying every weapon in her arsenal. She hadn’t thrown a dart since her college days, so this was pretty much going to be the best idea ever or a colossal disaster.
Focus on the goal.
Right. Get Xander drunk. Get the story. Get the hell out of town.
Easy peasy.
She was so busy formulating a game plan and gathering darts that she didn’t notice Xander’s return until he spoke.
“What are we playing?” he asked, slipping behind her to place the bottle and glasses on the table. His breath was a warm caress against her cheek, and he was so close she could smell his crisp outdoorsy scent mixed with a hint of sweat from the polo match. The muscles of his back rippled under the thin white polo shirt as he opened the bottle and poured two shots.
He was fully clothed, but damn if it didn’t feel like a thirst trap.
Everly cleared her throat. Lord, she needed a drink. “Cricket. We’ll throw to see who goes first. Loser takes a shot. Anytime a number is closed out, loser takes two shots.”
Xander looked her over from head to toe and lifted a brow. “You sure you can handle this?”
“Can you?” she fired back, planting a hand on her hip.
“There’s nothing I can’t handle, love.”
She didn’t doubt it. Despite all the shit Xander had weathered in the media, he somehow managed to roll with it, remaining light and jovial. She could probably stand to take a page from his book.
He gestured to the board. “Ladies first.”
Everly moved to the throwing line and relaxed her breathing.
It’s all in the wrist.
She gripped the dart firmly but gently between three fingers as she drew her arm up to aim, putting most of her weight on her right foot. She needed the advantage of going first, but she wasn’t quite ready to tip her hand yet. Not a bullseye, then. She’d aim for the outer bull and hope Xander went for the bullseye and missed. Given his enormous ego, it was likely, but if he went for a double or triple ring, she’d be screwed.
And not in the fun way.
Everly released her breath and let the dart fly. It slammed into the outer bull. Twenty-five points.
Still got it.
She sighed and stepped to the side, as if disappointed she’d missed her mark.