“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.