Page 93 of Heart Over Heels

I didn’t want Darby to think the change in my behavior was about him, or worse, to feel some distance between us when we should have been closer than ever. So I kept up appearances as best I could.

I chatted, and smiled, and touched his hand in passing. For that, he rewarded me with the most stunning smiles, and I felt guiltier than ever.

It was almost enough to make me regret coming here in the first place. What would have happened if I hadn’t spoken to him that day at the Basilica? Just showed him the door and went on about my business? I had reached the point of lamenting what might have been the best sex of my life because it had created a bond I couldn’t bear to see broken.

I was going to lose him.

It was practically a foregone conclusion.

I would hurt him, and I would lose him, and then he’d be wishing like I was that I’d stayed the hell out of his life.

But then there was Molly, someone else I was desperate to get close to, and Rachel had finally agreed to open the door. I didn’t dare warn her there might be a threat to our daughter’s well-being because that would only fuel her belief that I was an unfit father, and I would lose Molly too.

I couldn’t risk her. Not for myself or my happiness, not even for Darby. And that ached.

It ate at me for days until the deadline Antonella had set was uncomfortably near.

Darby was a planner; he wouldn’t appreciate me springing the idea of a company outing on him at the last minute. With the grand reopening only three days away, if I didn’t mention taking some time off now, it wouldn’t happen untilafterthe big night, and that would be too late.

We had about an hour till open, and the club floor was alive with the usual pre-show chaos. Onstage, Zephyr hung upside down from his silks while Beck stood by, supervising or pretending to.

Across from them, Oz and Elliot were up to something that hovered between practice and play. Oz had Elliot hoisted overhead like a cheerleader while the smaller demon balanced in a handstand. Elliot’s limbs stretched in elegant lines, and his tail wound around one leg.

I was waiting for Darby. Searching, but not too hard, because I would have liked to delay this forever. I had yet to spot him when the twins came tearing across the floor like a human tornado, narrowly missing every table and chair in their path. Within moments, their scuffle turned into a tango—Colt leading and Callum laughing while being dragged along.

The tone around here, as Colette had said, was happy. The dolls were full of sunshine, and I was the storm cloud about to rain all over their parade.

Colt and Callum were too caught up in each other to notice me, and I must have stopped watching them too, because the next thing I knew, I was flat on the ground with both of them piled on top of me, a squirming heap of cowboy boots and leather.

Callum’s head swung close, the tips of his horns grazing past my face as he rolled off. Colt was already on his feet and reseating his Stetson before I found the sense to move.

They flanked me a moment later, each offering a hand up—mirror images wearing matching grins, though Callum’s was slightly more apologetic than Colt’s perpetual smirk.

I let them pull me up, making sure to get the foot of my prosthetic firmly planted so I didn’t lose my balance again.

“Sorry ’bout that,” Colt drawled. “Gettin’ warmed up before things get hot, if y’know what I mean.”

“Yeah,” I said, brushing dust off my shirt. “I got it.”

Callum watched me, considering, before his expression turned mischievous. “Are you lookin’ for Darby?”

“Actually,” I began. “I had a question for you two.”

Callum tipped his head, and Colt hiked a brow.

I hadn’t thought much about what I would suggest. A “day off” was too vague to be tantalizing and would likely lead to at least a few of the dolls wasting time lazing about the club. If I wanted them out of the building, I’d have to lure them away.

After a moment’s hesitation, I launched my pitch. “Do you guys like games?”

Colt’s expression flatlined. He leaned back and crossed his arms. “Darby already sold us on the Clue thing. So far, it ain’t as much fun as he made it sound.”

“No, not like that.” I rubbed the back of my neck. “I mean arcade games. Skee-Ball, Cruisin’ California, that sort of thing. It’s been a while since I’ve been to one, but they used to be fun.”

Arcades were all the rage when I was in high school—sticky floors and neon lights, everything smelling like sugar and grease. The twins weren’t quite that young, though. I’d guess them to be in their early twenties, closer to college than high school. The guys I knew when I was that age had other ideas of fun.

“There’s a place down the Strip,” I added. “Has a nice bar.”

Colt snorted. “Why would we go somewhere we have to pay for booze? We get it free here.”