I’d told Owen I’d never race her, and that was true. I’d never risk my car’s pretty new paint job by speeding down dirt roads,hitting ruts, risking collisions, spinouts, or worse—rolling the damn thing on a tight turn.
But I loved the open highway, just me and Monarch, eating up the miles together, pretending we were free.
With each mile, I breathed easier. And before I knew it, I was approaching Riverton city limits. Shit. I hadn’t meant to drive all the way home.
I’d let my mind drift while driving, and it had carried me here.
I checked the time on the dash radio. Too early to go home. Holden would know I was ditching, and I didn’t want to deal with a grilling about why I’d shown up out of the blue.
I passed the turn to Forrester Auto and parked at Ball Breakers Bar & Pool Hall instead. It was too early for any of my brothers to be there. They’d be busy at the auto shop.
My fingers flexed on the steering wheel. It’d feel so good to lose myself in work right now. But not with my brothers hovering around me, asking questions, telling me I should be in school.
No. A few games of pool would have to do instead. My second-favorite pastime.
It’s funny. Before I went to school, I wouldn’t have said that pool came in second. In fact, I’d grumbled a few times about how hard I had to work in the shop. It was my job then, and it wasn’t until it was gone that I realized how much I loved it.
Not precisely the mechanic work, though I loved that, but being with my brothers. Feeling like a valuable part of our business. Just like with Monarch, I’d helped take something that was in disrepair and rebuilt it into a thriving business.
I missed that feeling of accomplishment. No class or grade could compare. Our auto shop was the real world. College was a fantasy land full of people who were dreaming about their futures. Trouble was, I already knew mine. I just didn’t knowhow to tell Holden my future wasn’t going to match up with his vision.
The owner, Leo, was behind the bar when I stepped inside. He dipped his head in greeting. I sent him a sloppy salute in return.
The place was fairly quiet, but it was only four thirty. I went to the pool table and racked the balls.
I set up trick shots for a couple of hours, challenging myself, until a guy came up to the table. He was big, a little rough around the edges, his hair a windblown mess that told me he rode his bike without a helmet. His face was weathered from years of doing it.
The scent of leather clung to him like a second skin.
“You must think you’re pretty good,” he rumbled.
I straightened and turned toward him. “I do okay.”
“I could beat you.”
“Yeah?” I was tempted to take him up on it, but he’d seen me practicing. He knew I was no beginner. He might actually have the skill to back up his words. I shrugged. “Good for you.”
He chuckled. “Smart-ass. Want to play a couple? No money. Just for fun? I want to see what you got.”
“Sure.” I grinned. “I’ll even let you break.”
“Oh, a sweet talker,” he said. “All right, but I might not be as hopeless as you seem to think.”
“I don’t think that,” I said. “I want to watch you break so I can assess your play and then destroy you.”
He lifted his beer, pointing it toward me. “Ruthless. I like it.”
He racked the balls into place, then stepped to the wall to select a cue and chalk the tip.
He bent over the end of the pool table, squinting one eye, sizing up his shot. His stance wasn’t bad. His hold was steady.
He had a strong break, sending two solids into opposite pockets on the table.
I nodded as he straightened and circled to look for his next shot. “Okay. Not bad.”
He smirked. “Glad to get the approval of a goddamned baby.”
“This baby will kick your ass,” I growled.
