CHAPTER 18
Colt
“Glad to see you’re back in action,” I tell Pap as I take a sip of my draft beer. He’s the best player on our dart team, and his absence while he recovered from surgery was deeply felt.
He steps up to the two-foot strip of silver duct tape that was pressed onto the scuffed wooden floor of Chesty’s. It’s placed at exactly seven feet, nine and a quarter inches from the board since we’re playing steel-tipped.
I watch as he takes aim at the board. Pap has an unusual style. He holds his dart in front of him, not with the tip pointed at where’s aiming but rather he holds it at an angle… as if he’s holding a pen. Pap’s gaze finds his target and his hand is steady.
With a mere flick of his wrist, the dart flies and hits exactly where he was aiming.
A trip twenty.
I grin, and the guys on the other team groan. Lowe records the sixty points on a chalkboard mounted on the wall near the throw line, and the twenties are closed for us. Cricket is our game of choice in this league.
“We should just forfeit if this is how Pap’s shooting tonight,” one of our opponents grumbles.
Pap lets loose his next dart. He almost hits a trip nineteen but only gets a single. This is rectified by his last dart, which hits the double nineteen, and just like that, our team has closed out two numbers and taken a huge lead.
While someone on the opposite team steps up to the line for their turn, Pap joins Lowe, Floyd, and me at a small square table that holds our beers. We’re each sporting scarlet-colored t-shirts with the Chesty’s logo on the back done in gold. The four of us have represented Chesty’s in the Scuppernong county steel-tip dart league for six years now.
We’ve been reigning champions all six years.
From August through November, every Thursday night at seven, the four of us—with Trixie as an alternate in case one of us can’t make it—meet at a hosting bar. Tonight, we play at Chesty’s, but home field advantage isn’t needed. Pap’s the best player in the league, and it’s sort of a cake walk for us.
“Jimmy Rochelle was in here the other night running his mouth about you,” Pap says offhandedly. I pulled a chair over for him to sit in, but he’s ignoring it.
Stubborn old man.
“Oh, yeah?” I ask with a smirk. “What did he say?”
“Just stuff that would make you want to go kick his butt right now, so I won’t repeat it.”
“He can talk crap all he wants,” I tell Pap with confidence. “As long as he keeps his little hellion kid in check around Linnie.”
“You’re up, Colt,” one of the other players call out.
Snatching my darts off the table, I step up to the line. I hold my dart tip pointed straight at my target. I tried Pap’s method and it never works for me.
Trip seventeen… you’re mine.
I pull my hand back, prepared to launch when Floyd says to me, “You told Darby you love her yet?”
My entire body jerks as my dart flies, not over Darby’s name, but from the word “love” that Floyd so casually tosses out. My dart veers left and sticks in the wood-paneled wall, causing the players on the other team to howl with laughter.
Turning, I see Pap and Lowe snickering at me, but Floyd merely looks at me expectantly for my answer.
“No,” I growl with condescension. “I haven’t told her I love her, Floyd.”
Geez… how thick can Floyd actually be? I mean, I knew he had a few screws loose, but…
I turn back to face the dartboard and take aim at the trip seventeen again. This is my number, and I almost always get a triple.
Aim is taken and just before I let it loose, Floyd asks, “Well, why not? You shouldn’t keep those things inside.”
Once again, my dart sticks in the wall where it vibrates for a moment before going still.
The other team roars with laughter, and I turn a glare upon them. It doesn’t have the intended effect, and they just laugh harder.
Spinning toward Floyd, I take three steps to come toe to toe with him. “Floyd. I don’t love Darby so that’s why I haven’t told her. I’ve only known her a couple of weeks.”
“Four and a half,” he replies.
“Excuse me?”
“Four and a half weeks,” Floyd clarifies. “You’ve known her four and a half weeks.”
Yes, I know that’s how long I’ve known her. I remember the exact day I met her in Laken’s clinic. Why Floyd knows that date is both weird and right at the same time, but that’s beside the point.
“I haven’t even kissed her yet, Floyd.” Talk about putting the cart before the horse.
“Which is plain stupid if you ask me,” Floyd replies swiftly.
Lowe and Pap nod their heads in agreement, and I’m surprised neither throw their hands up and say something like, “Preach it, Floyd.”
“A woman that looks like Darby,” Pap intones because he’s not going to ever sit quiet, “you should be kissing her.”
“She’s married,” I mutter.
“Not for much longer,” Floyd says knowingly, as if he’s got the inside track into Darby’s divorce proceedings. And knowing him, he probably does somehow. “Besides, she’s been separated long enough to do some kissing. I’m beginning to wonder if you even like her at all.”
“I like her,” I blurt out to Floyd, disregarding Pap and Lowe’s second round of snickers.
“Hey, Colt,” one of the other players calls out. “Can you leave your hen party for just a few minutes and come shoot?”
I spin away from Floyd, Pap, and Lowe, and take three steps back to the line. I give quick aim, don’t think too hard about any of it, and let my dart fly.
I’m turning my back on it just as soon as I see it stick the trip seventeen.
Walking back up to my hen party, because that’s exactly what this has turned into, I lower my voice a bit. Lowe, Pap, and Floyd lean in to listen. “Look… I like Darby a lot. I mean, like more than anyone else I’ve dated. And that’s just the thing… we haven’t really dated. Dinner out once and I’m taking her and Linnie to the fair on Saturday, but that hardly makes for kissing circumstances.”
“You’re looking at it wrong,” Floyd insists with a wag of his finger in my face. “She gave up a grant for you. You battled a bully for her daughter. You two are more than ready for some kissing.”
“I’d get on it if I were you,” Pap throws in.
Lowe nods. “Yup.”
A long, low growl rumbles in my chest, and it’s born of both frustration and an overwhelming sense of protectiveness for Darby. “She’s not ready yet. I’m taking it slow because Darby needs to go slow.”
“She told you this?” Floyd asks suspiciously.
“Well, no. But she was in a bad marriage for a very long time.”
“Irrelevant,” Floyd says and crosses his arms over his chest in defiance.
“It’s not irrelevant,” I snap at him.
It’s so relevant. But it’s also not seemingly holding Darby back, so why am I letting it hold me back?
Floyd, Pap, and Lowe just stare at me as if I’ve not said anything worth them uttering a response to. This ticks me off, so I point an index finger at them, going from left to right as it silently marks each. “None of you have any business giving me advice on women. Floyd… you’ve never been married or even had a girlfriend that I know of. You’re married to your dang shotgun.”
Floyd furrows his eyebrows, considering my words. I turn to Pap. “And you… you’re too chicken to even ask Mary Margaret Quinn out for a date.”
Pap flushes red and Lowe laughs, but his smile slides off his face when I turn to him. “And you—”
He holds up his hands in defense and smirks. “Hey… I’m in love and happily married.”
I lean into him and taunt with an evil grin. “You got drunk in Vegas and married Mely in front of Elvis.”
Lowe’s jaw locks and his cheeks turn red with embarrassment.
“The point being,” I say in a more conciliatory tone. “I know what I’m doing, okay? And slow is the name of the game.”
Floyd opens his mouth, no doubt to argue I should move faster, but the door to the bar flies open and we all turn to look.
A tall, black man with a bald head walks in followed by Mely. He’s outrageously dressed in a pair of aqua-colored skinny jeans with matching suede loafers on his feet. A shiny silver shirt sparkles from the neon beer lights all around. He throws his arms up over his head. In a loud voice, he announces, “Morri D has arrived.”
Mely’s best friend comes down to visit us often from New York and has officially been adopted by Whynot as sort of our official mascot that shows we’re a progressive and accepting southern town.
Well, most of us anyway. There are a few who look down their noses at him, but not here in Chesty’s. Pap’s made it perfectly clear it won’t be tolerated in here.
“Pap,” Morri yells as his eyes light on my grandfather.
The two men hug, then Morri’s kissing Lowe once on each cheek, a feat that has Pap, Floyd, and me now howling with laughter as Lowe tries to dodge Morri’s lips.
I notice Mely comes to stand quietly beside me, just watching Morri and his antics with a soft smile on her face. She speaks from the side of her mouth to me, “Is it bad I love the way Morri loves to torture Lowe?”
“Not at all,” I assure her.
Morri gives a hug to Floyd next, whereby it’s no surprise Floyd gives it back tenfold. He wraps Morri in a huge bear hug, lifts him off his feet, and spins him around. This may seem at odds with the big, gruff mountain of a redneck man who patrols town with a shotgun, but Floyd and Morri have become good friends over the last few months when Morri visits us. In fact, Morri took Floyd to a drag show on one of his visits.
Morri is only slightly more reserved with me when he turns my way. I don’t even bother to try to hold my hand out for a handshake, knowing it would be ignored and I’d probably get kisses on my cheeks, too. Instead, I decide to open my arms up and accept a warm hug from him, although I punctuate my affection with some manly claps on his back.
He doesn’t fully release me, rather keeping his hands on my shoulders. He looks deeply into my eyes for a moment. Then his chin tucks in and he coos, “Oh, baby… you got it bad, don’t you?”
“What?” I ask, completely perplexed.
“Love. You’ve been hit by the love bug. I can see it in your eyes. In the set to your shoulders. Hell, I can smell it coming off you. Plus… Floyd texted me and told me all about your pretty peach farmer.”
Lowe, Pap, Floyd, Mely, and the entire opposing dart team howl with laughter. Morri doesn’t crack a smile but just nods. “Mmm. Hmmm. Totally bit by the bug.”
I pull out of Morri’s grasp and roll my eyes. It’s enough of a denial, but the one thing I would admit to if he asked me right now is I do feel something strong for Darby, and I bet it only gets stronger.