“What’s up, man? You’re getting your butt whupped by a girl,” his brother taunted.
“Shut up,” Billy Joe snapped. “She’s gonna whup you next.”
“No, she ain’t,” Bobby replied. “I got fifty bucks says I’m gonna take her.”
“You getting the itch to play?” Mary asked, her fingers moving in irritatingly small circles on his abdomen.
“Yeah.”
“You’re not thinking about playing Rebecca, though, are you?”
“Actually I am.” Stepping away from her, he put his quarter on the side of the table behind Bobby West’s to save his place in line. He hadn’t played Rebecca since they were in high school. It used to be that he could beat her easily enough. But she’d obviously improved a great deal, and these days he played only occasionally.
If Rebecca saw that he was there, she gave no indication. He hadn’t been able to get her to acknowledge him since she’d shoved that damn gift in his face and walked away.
“We could stop by the Honky Tonk and play a game if you’d rather,” Mary offered, slipping her arms around him again. “Then we could go on over to your place.”
He heard the innuendo in her voice, but for some reason the thought of winding up at his place with Mary didn’t tempt him tonight—at least not as much as playing pool with Rebecca. He missed the challenge she provided, wondered if he could still best her. “Not right now,” he said, intent on the game. “It’ll be my turn soon.”
Billy Joe scratched and had to bring out another ball. Rebecca sank one of the two remaining stripes, and Billy Joe knocked down two solids before Rebecca made her last shot. But she missed the eight ball. Billy Joe missed the five, and it was Rebecca’s turn with another chance at the eight. She studied the angles, took the shot and smiled as the eight ball fell neatly into the side pocket.
“Darn!” Billy Joe said, shaking his head. “You beat me every time!”
Rebecca laughed and pocketed the money. “You think your brother can do any better?”
“You bet I can, honey,” Bobby said and racked the balls. When he took his brother’s cue stick, Rebecca told him he could break. Balls scattered everywhere from the power of his shot, but amazingly nothing fell.
Rebecca ended up with stripes again. Then she systematically destroyed Bobby like she had his brother and shoved another wad of bills into her pocket when the game was done.
Josh removed Mary’s arms from around his waist and forged through the crowd of onlookers. Rebecca arched a brow when she saw him.
“You ready for some real competition?” he asked, teasing Billy Joe and Bobby.
“She’s better than you think, man,” Billy Joe said.
Rebecca propped a hand on her hip. “How much?” she asked him.
Josh considered what he had in his pocket. “A hundred bucks says I’ll win.”
“Make that two hundred, and you’ve got a game.”
“Ooee, she’s feeling it tonight,” Billy Joe cut in, putting another quarter on the table.
“Maybe it’s time to humble her,” Josh said, but he knew, even if he won, there was no humbling Rebecca Wells.
“Talking trash already?” she asked.
“Two hundred dollars.” He grinned. “Ladies first.”
Rebecca sank two solids but missed the third.
“Nice start,” he said, chalking up. He eyed the table from several angles, went after the thirteen and sent it into the far corner pocket. Then he buried the ten, but he also knocked down Rebecca’s five.
“Thanks for the help,” she said, smiling.
Mary came up beside him. “You can take her,” she said, her words almost fierce.
Josh glanced up for a second and noticed that they were attracting quite a few new spectators. His brother had come downstairs and was among the crowd, standing toward the back. Booker and Katie had joined them, too.
Josh watched Rebecca take aim. He hadn’t left her much of a shot, but she was good enough to work with what she had. She sent the seven flying with just the right amount of power to bounce it off three sides before nearly sinking it in the closest corner.
“Darn,” she said, stepping back when it didn’t fall.
He walked around the table, considering what was open to him. The twelve was in a pretty good position. But if he hit the twelve, he might leave her with the perfect opportunity to drop two more of her own balls.
“Try the nine,” Mike said, suddenly at his elbow.
“The twelve’s looking pretty,” Josh said. “Dangerous but pretty. I think I’m going to have to take the twelve.”
He aimed and fired, the twelve fell, and then they were three to three.
“What did you leave me?” Rebecca muttered, frowning.
Fortunately not as much as he’d thought he would. But she managed to bury the one ball on a trick shot that should never have worked. That opened her up for an easy shot along the left side, which took care of the three. Next she attempted to tap in the six, but to his relief she scratched.
“Aw, that’s too bad,” he said, grinning as he removed her penalty ball—the three.
They were even again, but not for long. He placed the white ball in front of the fourteen and pointed to the left corner pocket. “It’s going there,” he said and, a solid click later, proved himself right.
At that point, Booker stepped up and whispered something to Rebecca.
Josh tried not to be annoyed by this evidence of their mutual esteem, but the fact that he’d lost his “friend” status so quickly, while Booker seemed to be hanging on to his, rankled. What did he have that Josh didn’t? A few tattoos, maybe.
As Rebecca moved past him, he caught a subtle whiff of her perfume, reminding him of that night she’d massaged him at her house. He’d smelled the same scent on her sheets and pillows. It was mingled with the whole experience—the candles, the warm oil, Rebecca’s hands sliding over his body. He’d thought a lot about that night. He’d thought even more about the next morning, when they’d stood so close he could have licked her lips without moving. In that moment, it had been all he could do to remember that she had a fiancé and he had a girlfriend, and that she was the worst woman in the world for him to want—
“Go, man,” Mike said, nudging him. “It’s your turn.”
Josh blinked. Rebecca had pocketed the three again. If he wasn’t careful how he finished this game, she’d walk away with his money.