“Can’t keep using that excuse,” Walsh remarks.
I internally laugh at their antics remembering how much fun I had with them last weekend.
“Just get Shelby to kiss it better,” Randy says, taking Seth’s old seat and pulling me down onto his lap.
“I might just do that,” he smiles as he rotates his neck.
I’m comfortable, settled in Randy’s lap, but discomfort prickles beneath the surface. What am I, the next girl, the punchline, another desperate woman trying to tame the Raptors’ quarterback?
I watch as a tall, athletic blonde enters the room, propping her hip against the pool table just as the first ball sinks into the pocket closest to her. She voices a small greeting to our group as Randy greets her back. “Hey, Laci.”
Seth looks up at her from his shot and throws the cue onto the table as he walks around to greet her. “See ya,” his deep voice says, taking her by the waist and leading her out of the room.
“Seriously,” Walsh says, standing in the middle of the room, looking down at the unfinished game of pool. He’s not as big as the others, but still toned with gorgeous green eyes, wearing blue jeans and a Raptors shirt. He’s more of the boy from across the road gorgeousness with playful dimples.
“Seth’s girlfriend?” I ask Randy.
He gives a small laugh. “No, just one of his girls.”
“Oh,” I say in return.
“Well, I guess you win, man,” Randy says to Walsh.
Randy turns to me. “Do you play?” Gesturing toward the table.
“Yeah,” I smirk back. I don’t add that my dad plays local competitive pool as a hobby, even going pro in his younger years. Our house has a billiards table worth several thousand dollars, plus another bar-sized pool table on our back patio, and I have been playing pool since I could walk. I’m also pretty good at poker, but like any good player, I like to keep that up my sleeve.
“How about me and Rachel versus you and the bullet magnet?” Randy suggests to Walsh.
Christian shoots him the finger.
“Sure,” Walsh says, reaching around and grabbing the balls to re-rack them.
“Drink?” Randy asks me.
“Love one,” I say back as I stand and he gets drinks from the small fridge in the corner of the room.
I watch Walsh set up the balls. “You want to break?” he asks me. It’s cute that he wants me to go first, and even cuter that he doesn’t know what he is in for.
“Sure,” I nod in complete confidence.This is going to be fun.
I stand at the head of the table, chalking my cue and getting ready to break when Randy comes back over. I pause and watch him. “I got you this,” he says, holding up a bottle of some pink vodka-looking drink.”
I smile and nod as he hands more drinks out to his friends.
“Nah, man, I can’t have any more with the painkillers I’m on.” Christian gestures. “And remember Coach’s rule…only two drinks tonight.”
“Yeah, I know,” I hear Randy say as I lean down and break the balls with a sharp snap.
I take a deep breath because I know I’m going to enjoy the next few moments. I sink two balls, both small, then work my way around the table studying each shot. I sink one ball followed by another, my finger sliding across the blue velvet as I roam around the perimeter. Concentrating on my next shot, I look up and watch all three guys watching me in total bewilderment as I flash a smirk, my eyes not leaving them as I sink the next ball into the pocket right in front of them.
Randy holds the bottle of beer up to his lips, having not taken a sip this entire time, as I slide around the table, running my finger over the velvet. I sink the rest of my balls and follow it up with the black. “Done.” I beam. “We win!” I sing-song.
“Holy shit,” Walsh breathes out, “you’re a pool shark.”
“That was incredible,” Randy laughs at me in amazement, walking toward me and passing me my drink. “Where did you learn to play like that?”
“My dad,” I shrug. “He plays snooker.”
