exception of Archer. Finn didn’t know what was up, but the two of them studiously avoided each other whenever possible. Everyone but Elle was in shorts and tees, looking bedraggled, a little sweaty and a whole lot dusty. Elle hadn’t gone on the hike. She didn’t do dirt. Or excursion. Dressed to kill as always, she wore a royal blue sleeveless sheath and coolly slapped Spence’s hand away from her fries.
He grinned in apology but the minute Elle’s back was turned, he stole another. Only Spence could do that and live.
Haley was there too, an intern at the optometrist’s shop on the ground floor of the building. But Finn’s gaze went directly to the last person sitting there, just as dusty as everyone but Elle.
Pru.
“Got suckered into the hike up Twin Peaks, huh?” he asked.
She smiled the smile of someone who was very proud of herself.
He grinned back. “Number four?” he guessed.
Her smile widened. “Three.”
Whoa. Finn turned to Spence, who shrugged. “On the way there, I calculated out who and what everyone’s going to pick in the draft,” Spence said. “All I needed was the fourth pick, so I didn’t see any reason to go crazy out there.”
“You did that on the way there,” Finn repeated, a little awed.
“Actually, I worked it out in my head before we even left.”
Elle looked at Spence. “Remember when you told me to tell you when you were acting like that kid that no one would want to be friends with?”
Spence just grinned and stole another fry.
“She looks so delicate,” Willa said and jabbed a thumb in Pru’s direction. “Totally thought I could take her.” She shook her head. “She wiped the trail with me.”
“You do a lot of hiking?” Finn asked Pru.
“Not lately.” She lifted a shoulder and sipped at what looked like a plain soda. “I haven’t had time,” she said demurely. “I’m out of shape.”
Archer laughed. “Don’t believe that for a second. This girl can move when she’s got inspiration, and apparently she takes her fantasy football seriously. You should’ve seen those long legs in action.”
Oh, Finn had. In his sexual fantasies.
“Why didn’t you go?” she asked. “Didn’t want to show off your long legs?”
Archer choked on beer. “I like her,” he announced.
Finn didn’t take his eyes off Pru. Hers were lit with amusement, which went well with the streak of dirt across her jaw. There was another over her torso, specifically her left breast. “I have great legs,” he said.
“Uh huh.”
“I do. Tell her,” he said to the room.
Spence shrugged noncommittally. “Archer’s are better.”
Archer grinned. “Damn straight.”
Elle let out a rare smile. “I like her too,” she said to Archer.
“It’s not about my legs,” Finn said to Pru. Shit, and now he sounded defensive.
“Maybe you should prove it,” she said casually and Archer choked again.
Willa bounced up and down in her seat, clapping. “It’s like Christmas!”
“We’re keeping her, right?” Spence asked.
“Hey,” Sean said, bringing them another pitcher of beer. “If a lady wanted to see my legs, I’d show her. Just sayin’.”
Asshole.
Pru turned expectantly back to Finn and he had to laugh. “What, right here?” he asked in disbelief.
“Why not?” she asked.
“Because . . .” Jesus. How had he lost control of this conversation? “I am not dropping trou right here,” he said stiffly, and great, because now he sounded like he had a stick up his ass.
“Maybe he hasn’t shaved,” Willa said. “That’d keep me from dropping trou. I only shaved from my knees down. My thighs are as hairy as a lumberjack’s chest, which is why I’m wearing capris and not short shorts. You are all welcome.”
Elle nodded like this made perfect sense.
“Gonna have to prove it to the lady,” Archer said ever so helpfully to Finn. “Drop ’em.”
He was an asshole too.
Willa grinned and tapped her hands on the bar in rhythm and began to chant. “Drop ’em, drop ’em . . .”
The others joined in. Shit. They were all assholes.
Pru leaned in over the bar and gave him a come here gesture. He shifted close and met her halfway, stilling when she put her mouth to his ear.
“No one but me can see behind the bar,” she whispered.
It took a moment to compute her words because at first all he could concentrate on was the feel of her lips on his ear. When she exhaled, her warm breath caressed his skin and he had to remind himself that he was in a crowded bar, surrounded by his idiot friends.
She smiled enticingly.
“Not happening,” he said on a laugh. At least not here, with an audience. He wondered if she’d still be playing with him if they were alone in his bed. Or if that was too far away, his office . . .
Her hair fell into his face and a stubborn silky strand stuck to the stubble on his jaw. He didn’t care. She might be streaked with dirt but she smelled amazing.
He was mid-sniff when she whispered, “Fun Whisperer, remember?”
“Maybe I’m commando,” he whispered back and was gratified by her quick intake of breath and the darkening of her eyes. “Either way,” he said, “I don’t drop trou on the first date.”
She bit her lower lip and let her gaze drop over him, probably trying to figure out if he was telling the truth about going commando.
Then her phone buzzed and she flashed him a grin as she stepped aside to answer it.
Sean came close and nudged him as they both watched Pru talk into her cell. “That’s the woman for you.”
“No,” Finn said. “She’s not. You know I don’t date women in the building.”
“Which would be a great rule if you ever left the building.”
“I leave the building.” To get to and from work, but still. He resented the implication that his life wasn’t enough as is.
Elle shoved her glass under Sean’s nose. She didn’t like beer on tap. “Earn your keep, bar wench.”
Sean rolled his eyes but took the glass. “What do you want, your highness? Something pink with an umbrella in it, I suppose?”
“Do I look like a college coed to you?” she asked. “I’ll take a martini.”
He grinned and shifted away to make it for her. Willa came around to Finn’s side of the bar. She was tiny, barely came up to his shoulder, but she was like a mother cat when riled. He knew better than to go toe to toe with her, especially when she was giving him The Look. But he wasn’t in the mood. “No,” he said.
“You don’t even know what I’m going to say.”
“You’re going to say I’m being a stupid guy,” Finn said. “But newsflash, I am a guy and sometimes we’re stupid. Deal with it.”
“I wasn’t going to say that.” She paused when he slid her a look and she sighed. “Okay, fine, I was. But you are being stupid.”
“Shock,” he said.
She put her hand on his arm until he blew out a breath and looked at her again.
“I’m worried about you,” she said softly. “You’ve got yourself on lockdown. I know this place has taken off and you’re so busy, but it’s like Sean is the one having all the fun with it and you’re just . . . letting him. What about you, Finn? When is it going to be about you?”
He turned and watched Sean work his magic charisma on a gaggle of young twenties at the other end of the bar. He’d never gotten to be just a kid. The least Finn could do was let him be twenty-two. “He deserves it.”
“And you don’t? You’re working like crazy and just going through the motions.”
True or not, he didn’t want to hear it. “You want anything to eat?”
She sighed, getting the message, which was part of why he loved her so much. “No, thanks, I’ve gotta go. Gotta get up early tomorrow for a wedding. I’ve got a cake to make and flowers to arrange.”
He found a smile. “Another dog wedding?”
In on the joke that she made more money off dog tiaras and elaborate animal weddings than grooming and pet supplies, she laughed. “Parrots.”
Finn laughed too and gave her a hug goodnight. As she walked away, his gaze automatically searched for Pru. The gang was all moving to the back room and she was with them, heading for either the pool table or the dartboards. It was tourney night.
He took some orders and flagged down Sean to pass them off. “Fill these for Workaholic, Playboy, and Desperado at your four, five, and six o’clock.” He turned and caught Pru staring at him. She’d come back for the bag of leftover chicken wings she’d forgotten.
“Workaholic, Playboy, and Desperado?” she asked.
“Customers,” Sean explained.
“We all have nicknames?” she asked.
“No,” Finn said.
“Yes,” Sean said. And then the helpful bastard pointed out some more in the place. “Klutz, Pee-Dub, and Woodie.”
“Pee-Dub?”
Sean grinned. “He’s an old friend with a very new wife. He’s Pussy-Whipped. PW, which cuts down to Pee-Dub. Get it?”
“I’m sorry to say I do,” she said, laughing. “And Woodie?”
Sean smiled. “Would you like me to explain that one to you?”
Finn reached out, put his hand over Sean’s face and shoved.
“Hey, she asked,” he said, voice muffled.
“What’s my nickname?” Pru asked.
Shit. This wasn’t going to end well. “Not everyone has a nickname,” he said.
She narrowed her eyes. “Spill it, Grandpa.”
Sean snorted.
Even Finn had to laugh. “Well it should be Pushy.”
“Uh huh,” she said. “Tell me something I don’t know. Come on, what do you two call me?”
“Your first day in the building, it was Daisy,” Sean told her. “Because you were holding flowers.”
“From my boss for my new place,” she said. “What changed?”
“We saw you feeding our homeless guy, so we switched it to Sucker.”
“Hey,” she said, hands on hips. “He’s a nice guy and he was hungry.”
“He’s hungry because he makes pot brownies,” Finn said. “They give him the munchies. And just so you know, we all feed him too. He’s got food, Pru. He’s just got a good eye for the sweet cuties who are also suckers.”
She blushed and he laughed.
“So I’m Sucker? Really?”
“Nope,” Sean said. “You’re Trouble with a capital T.”
Finn shook his head at him. “Don’t you have some orders to fill?”
Sean laughed and walked off, leaving him with Pru.
“I’m not a lot of trouble,” she said.
His gaze slid to her mouth. “You sure about that?”
“Completely.” And then she flashed him an indeed trouble-filled smile.
And that’s when he knew. He was the one in trouble. Deep trouble. “What can I get you?” he asked, his voice unintentionally husky.
“I was sent over here to get a set of darts.”
“You play?” he asked, digging some out of a drawer.
“No, but I’m a quick learner. I can do this.”
He felt yet another laugh bubble up. “Good ’tude,” he said. “Tell Spence to go easy on you, darts are his game. And don’t bet against Archer. He grew up a bar rat, you can’t beat him.”
She bit her lip. “He said he was new at darts.”
“Shit,” Finn said. “He already conned you, didn’t he?”
“No worries,” she said. “I’ve got this.”
He watched her go, shook his head, and then got busy making drinks because Sean was very busy flirting with Man-eater at one of the tables, even though she had already eaten him up and spit him out just last month.
When Finn looked up again after fulfilling a bunch of orders, half an hour had gone by and some serious chanting was coming out of the back room.
“Bull’s-eye, bull’s-eye, bull’s-eye . . .”
He whistled for Sean. “Need two mojitos,” he said and dried off his hands before heading out from behind the bar.
“Hey, I’m busy,” Sean complained. “Getting some digits over here. Where are you going—Hey, you can’t just walk away, you—Hell,” he muttered when Finn didn’t slow.
He entered the back room hoping like hell Archer wasn’t taking advantage of Pru. She had a sweet smile, and even though he knew she had a mischievous side and a unique ability to change the energy in a room for the better, she was no match against his friends.
And more had shown up, including some of Archer’s coworkers, all of whom were either out of the military or ex-cops. He could see Will and Max up there, both skilled as hell in darts and women.
Shit.
Pru was at the front of the room, at the first of three dart boards. She was blindfolded, dart in hand, tongue between her teeth in concentration as Will spun her around.
Spun her around?
He had time to think what the fuck before Will let her go and Pru threw her dart.
And nailed Finn right in the chest.
Chapter 6
#DoNotTryThisAtHome
At the collective shocked gasp of the room, Pru ripped off her blindfold and blinked rapidly to focus her vision. And what she focused in on with horror was the dart stuck in Finn’s pec, the quill still quivering from impact.
Archer and Spence had their phones out and were taking pics with big grins but Pru saw nothing funny about this. “Oh my God,” she whispered as she ran to him. “Oh my God.” Panic blocked her throat as she gripped his arms and stared at the dart. “I hit you!”
“Bull’s-eye,” he said, looking down at it sticking out of his chest. “Not bad for a beginner.”
He was joking. She’d hit him with a dart and he stood there joking. Good God. She wished for a big hole to swallow her up, but as already proven, she’d never had much luck with wishes. “I’m so sorry! Do we pull it out? Please, you’ve got to sit down.” She was having trouble drawing air into her lungs. “You need to stay still. You could have a cracked rib or a pierced lung.” Just the thought of which had her vision going cobweb-y. “Someone call 911!” she yelled.
Finn calmly pulled out the dart. “I’m fine.”
But she wasn’t, not even close. The tip of the dart was red. His blood, she thought as she felt her own drain from her face.
That’s when the red stain began to spread through his shirt, blooming wide. She was living the worst scary movie she’d ever seen. “Oh, God, Finn—” She was freaking out, she could feel herself going cold with fear as she again tried to push him into a chair and put both hands over the blood spot to apply pressure at the