Daren studies the table, a serious expression tightening his jaw that’s covered in the slightest stubble.

“Take all the time you need, Daren. I’m still going to win.” It’s probably a toss-up as to who will emerge the victor, but I rather enjoy getting a rise out of him. He’s so damn full of himself. It would be nice to bring him down to Earth.

He looks at me briefly before that smirk reemerges.

“Whatever, McDermott. Number four in the corner pocket.” Daren leans over, and I take a long look at that muscular body. His polo stretches across those broad shoulders down to his trim waist. He shifts slightly, and my eyes drop to admire that ass. Wowzers.

I suck down my beer. I’m not a big drinker, but it’s definitely helping me relax. And I need to relax. Fortunately, I can be completely tipsy and not look it. I have my great Irish genes to thank for that talent. And I’m totally buzzed at the moment. Which works since I live next door and can crawl home later if I have to.

Buzzed. That’s a funny word, I giggle to myself.

I’m sure I’ll regret the alcohol tomorrow morning, but I want to chill for five minutes. I don’t remember the last time I went to a party, so I might as well enjoy tonight.

Truthfully, I’m relieved not to have to do any more sports segments. Okay, yes, I was pissed yesterday afternoon because I had spent so much time prepping for Daren’s interview, but now I’m realizing it was a blessing in disguise.

And Daren… He’s not so bad. My tummy squirms when I think about how bitchy I was to him before our first interview. But he hasn’t made me feel bad about it. If anything, he’s been super sweet. Adorable, even.

I never did get a chance to apologize to him for insulting him that day. But maybe I can tonight when there are fewer people around to overhear our conversation.

The game room is tucked off down the hallway from the living room, and guests filter in and out. This seems to be the one area he really put time into decorating. It’s decked out with a flatscreen, several game consoles, a pool table and a couple of arcade machines. On the opposite side of the room hangs his collegiate BC jersey in a dark frame, and beneath that is his Heisman.

But I know his achievements, and those two reminders of his accolades barely scratch the surface. When I think about it, he’s actually pretty humble about it all.

He’s so different from Jacob, who never missed an opportunity to tell you how awesome he was. I used to think that reflected his confidence, but now I know he’s just an arrogant prick. Daren is so much more comfortable in his own skin.

I keep expecting Daren to run off and circulate with his guests, but he doesn’t. He has girls dropping at his feet like he’s anesthetizing them with his charm, and yet tonight, he’s hanging out with me.

Look, don’t touch, Maddie. Good-looking guys like him come with a price tag, one you can’t afford.

I finish my beer, wishing men could be a less painful experience.

When Daren sinks the ball, he turns to me with a serious expression. “Bite me, McDermott.”

He crosses his arms in front of his broad chest, making his shirt stretch more, those beckoning hazel eyes full of mischief.

“Gladly. Where?” Holy shit. Did I just say that?

A devilish smile ghosts his lips. “Careful, sweetheart. Don’t want you to break off more than you can chew.” Heat pulses in my veins, the ground shifting beneath me. His grin widens as he turns back to the table and takes aim.

What am I doing? Why am I flirting with Daren? I should go, but I’ve been waiting around for Nicole to return. She’s been gone forever, and I’m about to send out a search party when she texts. I logged off your laptop. Going to see if I can get Quentin naked. Left your keys on Daren’s kitchen counter in the bread basket.

Jesus. If Nicole thinks it’s a good idea to sleep with the guys she’s covering for her job, she’s an idiot. She would get fired if Roger found out she was sleeping with Quentin. Spencer might not care, but Roger is old school, and he’d never let that slide.

I shake my head.

“What?”

I look up to find Daren studying me. “Nothing.” Holding up my phone, I shrug. “Nicole left.” I debate what else to say. But it’s not like Nicole is some source I have to protect or even a good friend. “She’s taking off with Quentin.” Giving him a “birthday blow,” according to her message. Then again, she might be lying. I can’t tell with her anymore.

His eyebrows lift. “Okay then.” He chuckles.

“I should get going too.”

Daren’s laughter fades, and he looks like he wants to say something when a few people join us and yank the darts from the board hanging across from the pool table. “Come on, Sloan,” one guy says. “Let’s do teams.” He motions between me and a petite redhead. “If the girls win”—his eyes lewdly roam his date, who giggles—“they get… rubdowns.”

“Rubdowns?” My eyebrows quirk up. Clearly, we’re talking about more than…

“Back massages,” Daren says, giving his teammate a pointed look.

“Fine. Back massages,” he says with air quotes. “And if we win…” The guy hugs his date, letting his hands drop to her ass.

“Drinks on them next weekend,” Daren says, cutting off his friend before he takes a drink of his beer.

The guy rolls his eyes and pats Daren hard on the chest, mumbling, “Cock block.”

* * *

“Are you sure you don’t want any help?” Daren’s little chuckle irks me. A lot.

His teammate and that girl ran off a few minutes ago, leaving Daren and me alone in the game room. So we started over, and Daren said the only thing we were playing for was bragging rights because he’d enjoy beating my Southie ass. As if.

My eyes narrow. “Why do you think I need help?”

I might be halfway to drunk—okay, more than halfway—but I’m certainly cognizant enough to know that if I win, I want to do it on my own. And would I even be using the word “cognizant” if I were drunk? I think not. I am so not drunk. I am in fine playing shape.

I tighten my lips to mask my hiccup.

He’s right behind me, but I won’t face him. No way. He’s trying to get under my skin. Trying to distract me so he can win. And he’s so distracting. He’s been staring at me every time it’s my turn, and I can’t focus.

He clears his throat. “And don't worry about those holes in my wall. Thanks for christening it, by the way.”

My eyes narrow into little slits. I find it hard to believe I suck this badly when the board is only eight feet away. I mean, how damn hard can this game be? But between Daren’s piercing hazel eyes and his cologne, wafting over when he’s standing in my shadow, it’s like my brain has been dumped in a deep fryer.

I stare at his otherwise immaculately painted wall. How is it that no one has missed the board before? I can’t really be the first person to put a hole in it.

“It’s just a game of darts, Maddie. It’s okay if you lose. I won’t hold it against you.” He sidles closer, standing at my side. Staring. A small growl forms on my lips. And then he adds, “No need to get all huffy puffy.”

“I am not huffy puffy.” If he’s not careful, he’s going to get a dart aimed at him.

Despite my obvious irritation, he doesn’t move. He just stands there, watching my profile like I’m the most interesting thing he’s ever seen.

And then I can actually hear that little smirk break out on his face.

At that, I whirl to face him, to let him know these childish mind games won’t work on me. Only spinning requires equilibrium, which apparently I lack at this moment, and I go stumbling into his hard body.

“Whoa, Maddie.”

You know that moment when you realize there’s no way to save face? Especially when it’s planted into the hard chest of a ridiculously good looking man? Yeah, I’m in touch with that right now.

Whoa, Maddie?

I mumble into his shirt, “I’m not a horse.”

His chest vibrates with laughter, irking me more. But before I can come up with the words to put him in his place, I realize how tangled up we are. His large hand grips my hip while his other arm is wrapped around my back. I’m clinging to his huge biceps, my boobs pressing into him as I gasp a breath.

I tilt my head back, way back, until my chin rests on his chest and I can see him peering down at me.

“Stop. Staring.”

His eyebrows raise. But then his eyes travel over my face. “Stop being so insanely beautiful.”

I stutter out a breath. I’m not sure if that’s the best line I’ve ever heard or the worst. But based on how much I’m enjoying being this close to him—except for the cramp in my neck—I’m going to go with best.

“Stop batting your eyelashes at me and trying to distract me.” I try to keep a straight face, to say that with conviction, but Daren shrugs with a smirk ghosting his lips.

Slowly, he lifts me until I’m fully upright, but he tightens his hold, his arms enveloping me in a hug as he leans down to rub his nose down my neck.

Oh my ever-loving God.

His gruff voice in my ear sends another shock through me. “What makes you think I’m trying to distract you?”

He places an open-mouthed kiss on my neck, and my jaw unhinges.

I swallow, hoping he can’t feel my heart trying to gallop out of my chest. Because this man’s body, all big and hard, is about the most magnificent thing I’ve ever felt.

My breath comes out in short puffs. “I, uh, I think this kind of behavior can get you disqualified. I’ll get Southie bragging rights for life.”

“Mm. But what a way to go.” He pushes me back and lifts me onto the edge of the pool table. I blink to find him standing between my legs. “Maddie.” He says my name in a whisper.

His hand wraps around the back of my neck, and when we’re nose to nose, he pauses to look into my eyes. “You should know I’ve thought about doing this all summer.” And then his mouth closes in on mine.