BEAUTY AND THE BADGE Page 7

  “Board’s open,” Ben announces.

  “Girls versus boys,” Jana declares.

  That is a horrible idea. “Oh, I’m not—”

  “It’s not up for debate,” she says. “Every time we come here, I get stuck with these choades. Get your head in the game, because we’re cleaning up the floor with these idiots. Speaking of, which two of you are up first?”

  Will’s in the process of standing when she asks, so I figure he wants to be in on the first game.

  “I’m out this round,” he says, his attention on something across the room. “Maybe next round too,” he mutters as he wanders off.

  “Let’s do the warm-up round,” Reese suggests. “The two guys who do the best can take you two on. Spoiler alert, I won’t go easy on you.”

  I pull in a relieved breath when Tyler stands and goes to the dartboard with Ben and Reese to battle it out through the warm-up round. Jana moves into his empty chair so she’s facing the dartboard.

  “If you like looking at asses the way I do, check out the cheeks on Reese,” she says, not quietly.

  He shoots her a dry look over his shoulder before he turns and aims his dart. “I’m not going to throw like shit because you’re staring at my ass,” he snickers. Flicking his hand forward, he releases the dart. When it hits the bull’s-eye, he lets out a laugh. “Nice try, Jan Brady.”

  “Prick.”

  “Troublemaker.”

  “Knock it off, children. If you keep squabbling, you’ll miss the master,” Tyler jokes.

  Like I’d have missed him. Even if I’m looking at someone else, I know where he is. I’ve never been so aware of someone before. It’s almost freakish. Forget about spider senses—I’ve got Tyler senses.

  I let out a low curse when he throws his dart and it lands in the bull’s-eye right next to Reese’s. “You might want to rethink playing with me,” I tell Jana. “They’re making bull’s-eyes, and I’m telling you right now I’m not that good.”

  “Shh, don’t be a dream killer,” she scolds. “Think positive.”

  She’s got a good point, especially since thinking positive is a big part of manifesting the life I want. I feel a little bit better after Ben throws something that almost misses the board. It doesn’t take long to figure out that Tyler and Reese are the best at the game, and I’m not surprised when they win. Now, it’s time for the girls-versus-guys game.

  “Ladies first,” Tyler says as he holds a black dart with a black and silver flight out to me.

  Taking it, I stand and head for the line painted on the floor that indicates from where to throw. Closing one eye as I raise the dart, I focus on the center of the board. Pulling my arm back a bit, I send the dart flying. It lands out in the boonies of the board, but at least it didn’t land on the wall or something. That’d make me feel lame.

  A few rounds later, my throws aren’t improving. “You’re throwing from the wrong place,” Tyler says. “Let me give you some pointers.”

  “Okay.”

  When he sets his hands on my shoulders and gently turns me toward the board, I bite back a gasp. I’m wearing an off-the-shoulder top, which means his hands are touching my skin.

  And I like it. Too much.

  I like it more when he stands behind me. Close, but not too close. Tyler Jameson is like a furnace. By that, I mean I can feel the heat of him through his shirt and mine and we aren’t even touching.

  “Bring your hand back into your throwing position,” he instructs.

  Pulling it back, I grimace when I look at my hand. I hope he doesn’t notice that I’m trembling a bit. When he circles my wrist with his hand, I just about melt into a puddle. Crap. I bet he can feel my pulse beating at my wrist. There’s no way he isn’t noticing exactly how affected I am by him.

  “You want to throw thirty percent from the forearm and seventy percent from the wrist. Forget the upper part of your arm,” he says huskily. “I know some people say the opposite, but I find it easier to narrow it down to the last motion. Focus on where you want it to go and then release without getting your bicep too involved.”

  I nod as I lick my suddenly-too-dry lips. “Got it.”

  “Line it up and then take the shot.”

  It feels like something bigger than just his hand on my wrist is missing when he steps back—and that’s damn scary. Closing one eye, I take a breath, stare at the spot on the board I want to hit, and release the dart. I don’t hit the bull’s-eye—not even close—but for the first time since the game started, I made it away from no-man’s land. I’m not very competitive by nature, but I love the idea that I might be able to leave this game with some of my dignity intact. Back at the table, I sit on my stool and take the last few sips of my beer.

  “Oh. My. God. A-cup! What’re you doing here?”

  I’d know that voice, or rather the tone of it, anywhere. A part of me wants to stamp my foot and let out a string of curses. Why is this miserable girl here right now?

  I’m not prepared for this. I should be though. I knew the second Millie told me Rita was back that the chances were better than good that I’d run into her at some point. The thing is—although I knew it was bound to happen—I hadn’t counted on her reviving the rude-as-hell name she started using for me eleven years ago. Christ on a cracker. This woman is twenty-six years old and still doesn’t have a bit of genuine kindness in her. Bracing myself, I turn to face her. When I do, I notice that her focus isn’t on me—because it’s on Tyler.

  “C’mon, Rita. Don’t start your shit,” he says. “You know you’re not supposed to be here.”

  “Oh hush.” Her grating giggle as she says that makes me a little nauseous. She’s as fake and over the top as ever.

  “A-cup Ashley and I go way back,” she says in a snide tone.

  Once upon a time, I would have stayed silent and took her never-ending insults, but I’m not a child anymore. “Oh, sure, way back. I see you haven’t changed a bit,” I say. I don’t even try to hide the insult. It’s right there, out in the open.

  “Aw, aren’t you just a doll,” she sneers. “What can I say? When you’re right, you’re right. After all, I haven’t gained a pound. I see you’ve grown though. Good for you, sweetie. Smaller up top, bigger on the bottom, like a Kardashian. Big is beautiful and all that, right? And hey, at least you finally got something bigger than itty-bitty boobs. B-cup Ashley doesn’t have quite the same ring to it though.”

  “That’s bullshit,” Tyler snaps. “Do not fuckin’ talk to Ashley like that.”

  I’ve never seen Tyler so severe about anything. Granted, I’ve only known him for a few days, but I never would’ve imagined he had a temper. On the other hand, it’s Rita we’re talking about, and she’s a special case. She could probably make the Pope angry.

  She isn’t acting either. The bitch comes naturally. She was born with it. Forget my manifesting books. For Rita Ramsey, the word bitch applies all day every day. I’m pretty sure Oprah herself would say it.

  Instead of striking back at him for snapping at her, Rita sags dejectedly, like all the fight has gone out of her. Still, when she looks over toward me, I tense.

  “I’m sorry I called you big. That was rude and I shouldn’t have done it.”

  This. Bitch. The insincerity in her eyes is so blatant that it takes everything I have not to tell her to shove her fake-as-hell apology up her ass. I won’t do that though, because I can see that’s what she wants. She’s a master manipulator. Always has been and, clearly, always will be.

  Feigning indifference, I shrug. “I stopped caring about the things you say a long time ago, Rita.”

  Her nose flares as she struggles to control her temper. If Tyler weren’t looking at me, I’d stick my tongue out to provoke her. Instead, I remain impassive.

  “Anyway,” she huffs, returning her attention to Tyler. “Now that I apologized to her, I think you owe me an explanation. How did you think I was going to react to seeing you out on a date?” she asks. It’s a master performance
. As she speaks, her eyes fill with tears and her voice wobbles like the emotion is too much for her to contain.

  “Just stop. We both know I don’t owe you a goddam thing. You aren’t supposed to be here, and I’m not on a date,” he says, his voice tired.

  I feel a little sick. I mean, I know we’re not on a date, but still. I feel less than. I don’t think he meant it to come across like that, but it almost doesn’t matter. Whether intended or not, I feel the way I feel.

  “You touched her,” she snaps.

  My stomach churns as I look between her and Tyler. Something is going on that I don’t understand, and it’s clear it’s nothing good. I notice it seems quieter in the bar. Looking around, I realize it’s because the people closest to us are listening intently. Great. She’s turned our table into a freaking bar show. Charlotte’s Cove is small; tomorrow, everyone will be gossiping about this.

  “You’re acting whacked, Rita. It’s none of your goddamn business what I do. You have no right to be over here giving me shit about me touching Ashley’s wrist, for fuck’s sake,” Tyler growls.

  I do my best to keep my expression blank as I return my focus to our table. Rita has entirely dropped the ready-to-crumble act she was putting on a minute ago. Now, she looks ready to rage.

  “And her shoulders! I saw you, Tyler. You can’t lie your way out of this.”

  He looks ready to blow. “I’m not fucking lying, because I don’t have to. You aren’t owed an explanation. In fact, you shouldn’t even be here. You were banned.”

  She makes a dismissive motion with her hand. “I told Meghan to ask her daddy to give me another chance. It worked like a charm.”

  Jana lets out a muffled curse. “Wow. You are really—”

  Tyler raises his hand to silence her. “I’ve got this, Jana. Don’t let her pull you into her bullshit.”

  I wish the horrible, sinking sensation in my stomach had nothing to do with the fact that it’s becoming more obvious by the second that something is going on between them.

  I cringe when Rita shoots Jana a victorious look. “That’s right, Officer Brady. My man has me.”

  My heart twists in my chest. Oh gross. Gross, gross, gross.

  “Fuck that. You fuckin’ know I’m not your man.”

  “Do you not realize what mixed messages you’re sending, Ty? Because it sure didn’t feel like you didn’t want to be my man when you made love to me last weekend,” Rita says in a singsong voice.

  CHAPTER NINE

  ____________________________________

  ASHLEY

  TYLER IS UP and out of his seat so fast it almost topples backward. “What the hell is wrong with you?” he asks her, his voice rigid.

  Taking her by the arm, he guides her through the room and out to the main bar area. Jana stands up and watches with narrow eyes. “He took her outside,” she says as she sits back down.

  Awesome. Maybe they can make love out there. I know I’m being irrational, but honestly, I am just so disgusted. I like Tyler. Liked, I correct myself. Past tense, and that’s the way it needs to stay because I want nothing at all to do with anyone who has been with and fallen for Rita’s shit. I can’t reconcile the man I thought I knew with the kind of person that Rita normally draws to her like a spider in her web. A black widow, even. She sucks the life out of her prey. I bet that’s what happened with red banana hammock guy. He probably sells oranges on the side of the highway in Seattle right now.

  “Well, that’s a wrap on this round of darts,” Reese announces. “Anyone want a shot before we start another game?”

  I’ve not yet found a shot that I actually like, so I’m an easy no. “I’m going to get another beer though,” I say.

  Ben and Jana both say they’re good, which means Reese and I are the only ones who need anything. I thought he was warming up but the walk to the bar takes place in silence. That’s not a bad thing, because it gives me time to stare at the door to the bar like I can will Tyler to come back through it. Too bad it doesn’t work. After we work our way up to the front, a beautiful redhead comes to take our order. “What can I get y’all?” she asks.

  Her slight southern accent suggests she’s the Meghan that Ben is into.

  “I’ll have a cup of whatever light beer you have on tap,” I answer.

  “Hey, Meghan. I didn’t think you worked the front,” Reese says.

  Apparently, he’s a little less standoffish with people who aren’t me.

  She wrinkles her nose and gestures with her neck back over her shoulder. “I don’t, but one of the girls got a text from her babysitter, so I said I’d fill in while she called her back. I figure I can’t mess up the easy orders. If something more complicated comes in, I’ll need to ask Tasha to do it though,” she laughs.

  “You know I’m simple,” he says. “I’ll take a shot of whiskey and a bottle of Fat Tire.”

  Smiling, she turns and walks away to fulfill our order. Seconds later, Ben appears and wedges his way between us. “Why’s she behind the bar?” he asks. The question is directed at Reese, who quickly fills him in.

  “If she’s serving, I’m sitting up here.”

  “Fuck, dude,” Reese grumbles. “You’ve got it so goddamn bad. I’ll stay with you so you don’t look like a fuckin’ weirdo.”

  Tuning out their conversation, I turn my attention to the door. Tyler’s been outside with Rita for a few minutes now. Long enough that I’m wondering if they’re kissing and making up. God, that stings. It really shouldn’t, but I can’t help the way I feel.

  “Here you go.”

  Meghan has returned with our drinks, so I take two dollars out of my wallet and hand it to Reese. As opposed to Tyler, who wouldn’t let me pay for my drink earlier, he takes it without argument. Picking up the fresh red cup of beer, I take a sip. “I’m going to head back to Jana,” I say.

  When Ben offers to walk me back, I give him a funny look. “I think I’ve got the whole walk across the room thing covered, thanks.”

  With one last furtive glance at the door, I turn and head back to the table. As I walk, I see a man approach the table. By the time I get there, he and Jana are shaking hands.

  “Ashley, this is Scooter,” Jana says.

  The look she gives me says she’s not feeling this guy at all. When he turns, I understand why. He’s tall, pasty, and looks like he thinks he’s hot shit. I’d bet money he hasn’t been here before.

  “It’s my lucky day,” he says.

  Is smarmy voice a thing? Because if it’s not, it should be.

  “I’m Scooter Sanderson. I’m here for the weekend to house hunt. Thought I’d check this place out to get a feel for the local flavor.”

  The emphasis he puts on the word flavor is gag-worthy.

  “Yeah,” he continues, his voice a little too loud. “I’m looking at two of the five-bedroom places out on the point. New construction, top of the line. I only buy the best.”

  Ew. A braggart. It isn’t lost on me that Jana is regarding him much the same way I am. A more perceptive person would notice we’re doing the bare minimum to be polite. We haven’t even offered up our names. You’d think he’d clue in.

  “This is my first time here,” he says, like either of us asked him. “Honestly, I wasn’t feeling too enthusiastic about this town—especially when I rolled up to this shit hole. My car probably cost more than this whole place. It’s a Bentley Continental GT.”

  He stares at us expectantly, like he’s waiting for us both to act surprised or impressed. “God, tough crowd,” he laughs. “I get it though. You small town girls don’t know about cars, because you’re only exposed to guys who aren’t worth more than a Prius. Then I show up talking about how I’m looking at houses worth six mill up on the point, blowing your minds. I know, I know,” he continues, waving his hand between me and Jana, “it’s a lot to take in. You’re probably thinking I’m out of your league, but at least for tonight, you’re wrong. I’m all about spontaneity, and you two beautiful babes are out here
looking for a good time, am I right?”

  “No, you’re not fuckin’ right.”

  I don’t need to turn to see who said that. My body already knows the answer. I swallow nervously as Tyler stops next to me. Ugh, what is wrong with me? He’s been with Rita. That’s like… well, I don’t know off the top of my head, but I can tell you it’s not anything good.

  “Hey, Farmer Frank,” Scooter sneers. “I’m guessing one of these babes belongs to you?”

  Jana snort-laughs at the question. “We aren’t property or animals and his name’s not Frank,” she snickers.

  “She’s right,” Tyler says. “It’s Chief.”

  “Chief?” Scooter scoffs. “Like a fucking dog?”

  A shit-eating grin spreads across Tyler’s face. “No, not like a fucking dog. Like Chief of Police, actually. Of this very island, in fact.”

  Scooter’s eyes widen and he swallows audibly as he steps back. “Jesus, man. Settle. I was just saying hi.”

  “Well, you’ve said it. I’d suggest you take your ass up to the bar and order a plain Coke. You’re giving me a possibly-too-drunk-to-drive vibe.”

  “I had one whiskey on the rocks,” Scooter hastily assures him.

  “See that it’s your last for the night,” Tyler orders. “I have a feeling you wouldn’t enjoy spending the night in one of my cells. The thread count of the sheets is probably minus-four.”

  Scooter retreats much the way a roach would if you sprayed it with poison. Either he’s the type that’s easily forgotten or the fact that I’m edgy because Tyler is standing next to me is addling my brain. I’m thinking it’s probably a mixture of both.

  “You didn’t need to swoop in for the save, but thanks,” Jana laughs.

  He lifts his chin at her in acknowledgement. “Knew you had it, but I’m keyed up after dealing with Rita.” Turning to me, he says, “I’m really, really fucking sorry about that.”