Shelby whoops.
Harleigh bows dramatically toward them.
When she bends to line up the next shot, I lean in behind her.
“Am I being hustled?” I ask, my lips brushing the shell of her ear.
A shiver runs through her as she takes the shot and misses.
Her shoulders slump in disappointment.
“Cheater,” she mumbles as she turns to face me. “Your turn.”
I step around her and lean over the felt.
Crack.
One ball drops. Then another.
Harleigh whistles softly. “Well, hell.”
I glance up at her. “Still confident?”
“Oh, absolutely.” She leans her hip against the table, watching me line up my next shot. “You’re good. But I’m still gonna beat you.”
“Doubtful,” I say as I sink the next one.
“So cocky,” she says.
By the time I miss, I’ve cleared five balls.
Harleigh raises an impressed brow.
“Not bad, cowboy,” she says as she pushes off the table. “But now just stand back and watch and learn.”
This time, I try not to stare.
I fail.
She knocks one ball in.
Then another.
Then another.
She circles me slowly as she makes her way to the other end of the table.
“Harleigh Storm!” Charli shouts from the table. “Stop flirting and finish him.”
“I’m not flirting,” Harleigh calls back. Her eyes flick to mine with a wicked gleam. “Much.”
I laugh under my breath.
She sinks the last solid ball, then points dramatically. “Eight ball. Left corner pocket.”
I watch as the cue ball hits the black ball, sending it into a perfect spin. When it falls into the pocket with a loud thud, Harleigh does a sexy little victory dance.
Charli’s voice cuts through the crowd. “Yeah, that’s our girl!”
