See Jane Score by Rachel Gibson Page A

the team this year, and anyone new has to go through initiation.”
    The Stromster nodded as if this made perfect sense.
    â€œMy first year,” Darby continued, “they emptied their dirty laundry in my car.”
    The guys around the table laughed, deep ha-ha-ha-has.
    â€œMy first season was with the Rangers and they shaved my head and buried my cup in the ice machine,” Peter Peluso confessed.
    Bruce sucked in his breath, and she suspected he might have put a protective hand over his crotch if she hadn’t been sitting next to him. “That’s harsh,” he said. “My rookie season was spent in Toronto, and I got thrown outside in my underwear a lot. Talk about colder than a well digger’s ass.” He shivered to prove his point.
    â€œWow,” Jane said and took a sip of her drink. “Now I feel lucky that you boys just left me a dead mouse and call me all night.”
    Several pairs of guilty eyes looked at her, then slid away.
    â€œHow’s Taylor Lee?” she asked Fishy, deciding to let them all off the hook—for now. Just as she suspected he would, he launched into his daughter’s most recent accomplishments, which began with toilet training and ended with a repeat of the telephone conversation he’d had with his two-year-old earlier that evening.
    Since she’d met Bruce that first morning, she’d done a little reading on him. She’d discovered that he was going through a real messy divorce, and she wasn’t all that surprised. Now that she’d live a small sample of their lives, she imagined it would be difficult to keep a family together while on the road so much. Especially given the rink bunnies that hung out in the lobby bars.
    At first Jane hadn’t noticed them, but it hadn’t taken her long to pick up on who they were, and now she spotted them easily. They dressed in tight clothes, their bodies on display, and they all had that man-eater look in their eyes.
    â€œAnyone want to play darts?” Rob Sutter asked as he approached the table.
    Before anyone could speak, Jane was on her feet. “I do,” she said, and by the scowl on the Hammer’s face, it was clear he’d meant anyone but her.
    â€œJust don’t expect me to let you win,” he said
    Hustling darts had helped Jane put herself through college. She didn’t expect anyone to let her win. She made her eyes go wide as she reached for her drink. “Aren’t you going to go easy on me because I’m a girl?”
    â€œI don’t give quarter to girls.”
    With her free hand, she took the extra set of darts and headed across the bar. The top of her head didn’t even reach his shoulder. The Hammer didn’t know it, but he was about to get the big hurt he so richly deserved. “Will you at least tell me the rules?”
    He quickly explained how to play 501, which, of course, she already knew. But she asked questions like she’d never played before, and he was magnanimous enough to let her go first.
    â€œThanks,” she said as she put her martini on a nearby table and took her place at the taped toe line. Nailed to the wall a little over seven feet away, the board was lit from above. She rolled the shaft of the cheap house dart between her fingers, testing the weight. She preferred a ninety-eight percent tungsten dart with an aluminum shaft and Ribtex flights. Like the set she owned. The difference between the brass darts she held in her hands and the darts resting in their custom-made box at home was the difference between a Ford Taurus and a Ferrari.
    She leaned way over the line, held the dart wrong, and glanced down the shaft as if she were sighting in a rifle. At the last second before release, she stopped. “Don’t you guys usually bet or something?”
    â€œYeah, but I don’t want to take your money.” He looked at her and smiled as if he’d thought up something really funny. “But