“You don’t talk to her like that.” Cain dropped his cue as he stepped between her and the usually even-tempered Peyton’s service manager. “And keep your hands to yourself. Got that?”
As if a switch had been thrown the crowd quieted. What had been laughter, singing and friendly chatter throughout the large two-story brick building dimmed to a whisper. JB moved to get up, but Cain motioned him to stay where he was. No need to bring the police into the outburst at this point.
“You okay, Betsy?” Cain asked.
From behind him, she touched his back. “Yeah. I’m fine. Don’t make a big deal out of it.”
“What’s wrong with you tonight, Earl? Have a bad day?” Cain inhaled deep before exhaling his anger in one breath.
Earl’s expression flashed from sad to mad to wobbly and back again in less than five seconds. “A bad day?” he said as he sneered. “Try twenty years of bad days.”
Earl started to turn away as the crowd noise once again elevated to fun.
“I think you owe the lady an apology before you go,” Cain said.
“Sure, man. Sure. I’m sorry, Ms. Peyton. I was…I mean…” Earl pointed back across the room to the men at his table. “But those weenies”—his voice grew louder with each word—“better stop telling me what to do.”
Stepping in the line of sight between the man and his friends, Cain tried to diffuse whatever had set Earl off. “You might want to tone it down a bit. This is a family place.” Cain nodded toward Joanie as she stared across the room from behind the counter. “I’d sure hate to see you kicked out.”
For a few seconds, the man stared at Cain, then he broke eye contact and walked on toward the men’s room without another word.
Cain braced his hands on the table and nodded in the direction Earl had gone. “You were close to him. Do you think he’s been drinking? Smoking pot?”
Betsy sighed. “I know Crayton’s got its share of drug problems, but not everybody’s walking the wrong side of the street, Mr. DEA Man. Besides, you don’t have to worry about Earl. He’s a good guy. Works hard.” She narrowed her eyes into a questioning gaze as she rubbed her forearm once again. “But you’re right, he seems…”
“Amped?”
“Yeah, kind of hyped up tonight. That’s not like him. But thinking back, anytime his wife is out of town he’s easier to rile. That might explain it.” Betsy chalked her cue and turned back to the game. “I believe it’s my shot.”
Eyeing the table, she started to walk around Cain, and when he stepped to move out of her way, she bumped into his arm. His gut reaction was to reach out for her, but he didn’t.
“Do you mind giving me some room?” Betsy said. “Or are you trying to make me miss my shot?”
He raised his palms in surrender mode. No need to answer. He had no one to blame but himself if, by some stroke of luck, she dropped the eight ball and not his. Of course, that would be hard to do, seeing that Joanie’s had a sign on the wall that read “All eights must drop clean.”
Betsy glanced up at the sign. Then at the table. Then at her sister. Marcy shrugged in response while JB covered his mouth to keep from grinning. Betsy shifted her eyes back to the sign one more time and shrugged.
“What say we call it a draw?” Cain didn’t need to win, he’d already got what he wanted when she’d agreed to the challenge. He walked over and stood his cue in the corner. “After all it’s just a game.”
“Don’t give me that crock, Cain Connery.” Finally looking him in the eye, she stepped around the table and into his space. She tilted her head to the side and lifted her eyebrows, wrinkling her forehead in the process. “A game? Really?”
His core stirred with the heat she’d added to his personal space. Never mind that the way she said his name stoked his insides. Something he didn’t need fueled in the middle of a crowded pool room.
Cain met her head tilt with one of his own. “Why? You got a problem with playing games?”
“Nothing in life is just a game.” She turned away, lined up her shot and let it fly. “Didn’t you get the message?”
As if a professional hustler on the prowl had taken the money shot, the eight ball dropped into the side pocket.
Betsy pumped her arm in the air, then leaned into his personal space. Her smile sassy, as if flirting, before she thought better. “You’re in shock, aren’t you? Go ahead. You can admit it. I left you in the dirt.”
He’d never seen her so happy. If this was all it took for her to smile and go crazy, he’d lose to her twenty-four seven for the rest of his life. For a moment he thought she might actually kiss him. Or he’d kiss her. Or they’d kiss each other and let everyone else in the room fade away. But she didn’t. They didn’t. And the moment passed.
She pulled back, and turned toward her sister and JB, who were still watching the table. Everyone else standing around that corner stared in the same direction.
Plop.
Cain and Betsy turned toward the sound. After a long slow roll down the felt to the other end of the table, the cue ball had dropped. She’d lost.
