“Rematch?” he asks, already chalking up his cue.
“Sure, if you want your asses handed to you a second time,” I tease, taking a slow sip.
“A fluke,” Dice says. “Tonight, we restore balance to the universe.”
“You talkin’ big for someone who missed that eight ball shot under pressure,” I remind him.
“Maybe we should take pity on them,” Lexie offers. “Split up so they don’t embarrass themselves.”
“Ilike that option.” Dice comes up behind me, sliding his arms around my waist and nuzzling my neck. “It comes with benefits.”
C and Lexie stare at us for a moment, clocking the vibe. What is wrong with this man? Practically advertising that we’re sleeping together, though C must already know. They’re tight like that. If their conversations are anything like mine and Rayne’s…
Feeling a flush creep up my face, I slip away. “Naw, I’d rather whoop your butts.”
“Game on!” Dice grins. “We got this, C.” They dap it out while Lexie and I grab our sticks.
We chalk up and break. It’s animated and competitive, the kind of trash-talking that comes wrapped in humor and affection. Dice stays all up in my space—brushing his fingers along my waist when I line up a shot, whispering dirty shit to throw off my game.
“Your fine ass in the air is making me wanna to bend you over this table and ride you hard.”
Damn. I miss the shot.
“Aw, too bad, Web,” he taunts. “Watch this. Three in the side pocket,” he calls, lining it up. The light over the table hits the silver watch on his wrist. His sweater is pushed up his forearms, exposing the lion tattoo. He slides the stick between his fingers with a slow back and forth motion. The ball hits the solid red three with gentle force that sends it rolling across the table toward me and dropping clean in the pocket.
C lets out a woot and Dice’s eyes meet mine. A grin slides across his lips. I’m not sure if I’m annoyed by his cocky ass or turned on. Probably both.
He straightens in one smooth motion, looking like sex on a stick. I put an image to his words and pop my booty, letting him catch the drift.
Yes! Dice fumbles his turn, sending the ball out of control and missing the mark.
“Better luck next time,” I say with a cheeky smile when I notice him discreetly adjusting himself.
Lexie sinks the green stripe but misses the orange. C’s setting up when she tells me, “I signed the lease for that vacant shop on the boardwalk.”
“You did it. Congrats! Your own photography studio.”
“Thanks. It’s exciting. I also want to offer art and photo classes for kids and adults. What do you think?”
“That’s a great idea. Other than the rec center, there’s nothing like that around. A studio gives people a more serious option. You could even host wine and art nights.”
“I was thinking that, too. Any interest in leading a workshop?”
“I’m flattered, Amazon. Happy to help in any other way. Set up, supplies, whatever you need. But teaching’s not for me. I don’t have the patience.”
“You’re teaching me how to cook,” Dice interjects.
“You’re learning how to cook?” C asks, leaning against his stick, taking in that news with a glint in his eyes and a big grin on his face.
“Not really.” Dice suddenly walks it back. “Just some basics.”
“Oh, bro…” He claps his friend’s shoulder, laughing. “This is gonna be the easiest grail I’ve ever won.”
Later, back in the car, the wine’s warm in my chest, and Queenie’s fur is soft under my hand. She purrs sweetly, like she didn’t just try slapping C into next week.
I don’t know what I’m going to do if she doesn’t get adopted soon. Or at all. I can’t bring a cat to New York. I don’t want that responsibility. Dice takes care of her more than I do. He takes care of me too.Okay, we’re not going there.
“How you feeling after getting smoked?” I ask, switching my headspace.
