the dart. “Bring it back here, then let it go here.”
She did and the dart arced through the air and bounced off the board.
“Good. Harder, and you would’ve been right where you want to be.” Tagan leaned over her shoulder, and his eyes became hard, fierce. “Let that fucker have it, Brooke.”
Wide-eyed, she swiveled her head back to the painting. Clenching her teeth in determination, she drew back and threw it as hard as she could. The dart landed on Markus’s nose.
“Ha!” she crowed, then covered her mouth.
“Yes!” Kellen said approvingly.
“Good, woman,” Tagan said, his voice low and gravelly.
Confidence filled her chest, and she downed the Dixie cup then handed the empty to Kellen. He grinned and refilled it as she blasted another one at the board. Then another. Bruiser brought them back to her when she was out, and by the third round she felt awesome. She felt empowered. She felt relieved that all of these men here knew this man had done something awful to her, and she wasn’t harboring this dirty secret anymore.
She felt free.
Her eyes filled with stinging tears as the boys cheered after every good hit she made, and when her arms sagged with the relief of it all, Tagan spun her and yanked the bandage from her neck.
“This,” he said, holding up what had been hiding her scar, “is gone now. You earned that scar—survived it. Own what you lived through, Brooke.”
She raked her gaze down the curious scars that crisscrossed the taut skin over his chest.
Tagan’s eyes were hard and serious as he allowed her to look at him. “We all have them. Ain’t no shame, woman.” He nodded his chin and held out his hand. “My turn.”
She gave him a grateful smile and handed him the darts. Then she sat down and accepted the newly filled Dixie cup Kellen handed her. She cheered and drank with the rest of them as these crazy, wild men blasted darts at her attacker’s image.
A week ago, if someone had told her she’d be sitting in a hillbilly hot tub with a bunch of sexy, shirtless lumberjacks, chucking darts at one of her paintings and smiling harder than she had in months, she would’ve told them they were crazy.
And as Tagan settled in beside her and squeezed her hand, the warm water lapping at their knees as they made room for Kellen, she looked around at all the smiling faces. At the beer bottles that tinked together when someone told a funny joke and the soaked work jeans with holes in the knees when someone stood up to take a turn at the dart board.
Brooke smiled at the importance of this moment.
Meredith had known exactly what she was doing when she sent her here.
Chapter Seven
“You look happy,” Tagan said. He sipped his beer and watched her.
Connor watched her, too, from across the fire, but his attention seemed more possessive. She’d caught Tagan staring at her often tonight, but in his eyes, adoration pooled in the deep blue color. The man could warm her with just a look. He’d been doing it all night.
The boys were currently comparing the long arm of a machine called a processor to their dicks. The night was full of dirty jokes and laughter, but she couldn’t seem to stay in the conversation anymore. Her attention kept drifting to Tagan. He’d cooked for them, then gone out of his way to make sure she had everything she needed. He didn’t know it, but she’d seen him shake his head at Kellen as he prepared to offer her more boxed wine.
He wasn’t controlling about it, or abrasive, and she knew if she wanted, she could have more wine. But she’d had a dizzy spell earlier, and Tagan had steadied her, looking worried, then made sure Kellen didn’t pressure her to finish the box on her own. She’d sobered up over the past couple of hours, but she still wasn’t ready for bed. It was late, ten o’clock at least, but it was so nice to just sit here, listening to potty talk, with the laughter of her new friends as medicine for her soul. It helped that Tagan had
She did and the dart arced through the air and bounced off the board.
“Good. Harder, and you would’ve been right where you want to be.” Tagan leaned over her shoulder, and his eyes became hard, fierce. “Let that fucker have it, Brooke.”
Wide-eyed, she swiveled her head back to the painting. Clenching her teeth in determination, she drew back and threw it as hard as she could. The dart landed on Markus’s nose.
“Ha!” she crowed, then covered her mouth.
“Yes!” Kellen said approvingly.
“Good, woman,” Tagan said, his voice low and gravelly.
Confidence filled her chest, and she downed the Dixie cup then handed the empty to Kellen. He grinned and refilled it as she blasted another one at the board. Then another. Bruiser brought them back to her when she was out, and by the third round she felt awesome. She felt empowered. She felt relieved that all of these men here knew this man had done something awful to her, and she wasn’t harboring this dirty secret anymore.
She felt free.
Her eyes filled with stinging tears as the boys cheered after every good hit she made, and when her arms sagged with the relief of it all, Tagan spun her and yanked the bandage from her neck.
“This,” he said, holding up what had been hiding her scar, “is gone now. You earned that scar—survived it. Own what you lived through, Brooke.”
She raked her gaze down the curious scars that crisscrossed the taut skin over his chest.
Tagan’s eyes were hard and serious as he allowed her to look at him. “We all have them. Ain’t no shame, woman.” He nodded his chin and held out his hand. “My turn.”
She gave him a grateful smile and handed him the darts. Then she sat down and accepted the newly filled Dixie cup Kellen handed her. She cheered and drank with the rest of them as these crazy, wild men blasted darts at her attacker’s image.
A week ago, if someone had told her she’d be sitting in a hillbilly hot tub with a bunch of sexy, shirtless lumberjacks, chucking darts at one of her paintings and smiling harder than she had in months, she would’ve told them they were crazy.
And as Tagan settled in beside her and squeezed her hand, the warm water lapping at their knees as they made room for Kellen, she looked around at all the smiling faces. At the beer bottles that tinked together when someone told a funny joke and the soaked work jeans with holes in the knees when someone stood up to take a turn at the dart board.
Brooke smiled at the importance of this moment.
Meredith had known exactly what she was doing when she sent her here.
Chapter Seven
“You look happy,” Tagan said. He sipped his beer and watched her.
Connor watched her, too, from across the fire, but his attention seemed more possessive. She’d caught Tagan staring at her often tonight, but in his eyes, adoration pooled in the deep blue color. The man could warm her with just a look. He’d been doing it all night.
The boys were currently comparing the long arm of a machine called a processor to their dicks. The night was full of dirty jokes and laughter, but she couldn’t seem to stay in the conversation anymore. Her attention kept drifting to Tagan. He’d cooked for them, then gone out of his way to make sure she had everything she needed. He didn’t know it, but she’d seen him shake his head at Kellen as he prepared to offer her more boxed wine.
He wasn’t controlling about it, or abrasive, and she knew if she wanted, she could have more wine. But she’d had a dizzy spell earlier, and Tagan had steadied her, looking worried, then made sure Kellen didn’t pressure her to finish the box on her own. She’d sobered up over the past couple of hours, but she still wasn’t ready for bed. It was late, ten o’clock at least, but it was so nice to just sit here, listening to potty talk, with the laughter of her new friends as medicine for her soul. It helped that Tagan had
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