Seriously? How many now? Five?
She downs it like it’s water.
Then points at me.
“We’re off the clock.” Her voice is slightly louder now, and she taps the table in front of me. “This is my stomping ground. Miss Storm doesn’t exist here. And neither does Mr. Garrison for that matter.”
I fold my arms. “Is that right?”
“Yep. We’re just Harleigh and Porter.”
She pushes back from the table and stands.
The movement has a few nearby heads turning immediately.
“And just Harleigh,” she continues, planting her hands on her hips, “is gonna wipe the floor with you at a game of pool.”
I lean back slowly. “You think so?”
“You bet your ass, cowboy.”
The challenge in her voice sends a grin spreading across my face.
Fuck. She’s feisty.
And God help me … I like this side of her.
I grab my glass and stand. “Okay,” I say. “You’re on.”
Harleigh throws both arms in the air. “Woo-hoo!”
A few people nearby cheer just because she’s cheering.
She spins back toward the table. “Anyone else wanna play?”
Charli waves dismissively. “You guys go ahead.”
Shelby nods. “We’ll just enjoy the show.”
I don’t miss the way they exchange a conspiratorial glance.
Trouble.
I’m definitely in trouble.
Harleigh turns and starts walking toward the billiards tables tucked behind the bar. Except she doesn’t just walk. She sashays.
Every step exaggerated just enough to draw attention.
And attention she gets.
Every man with a pulse in the place is watching her.
Including me.
Her pants hug her hips perfectly.
“I’m gonna regret this,” I mutter under my breath as I follow her.
