Brigg’s is a small place, old and shabby. Popcorn ceilings drape over wood-paneled and mirrored walls. The wall-to-wall carpeting has been soaked through so many times that it permanently squishes in some spots.
I honestly only come here because it reminds me of my dad—all the times he kept my brother and me out until the owners made him leave. Pool and greasy bar food are practically a part of who I am.
“I hope you know what you’re getting yourself into, woman.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t worry. Or maybe I would, if I were you.”
I grab the triangle and rack the balls. I work hard to ignore the way my body hums from his eyes that I know are watching me.
I remove the form, revealing the perfectly shaped setup, then grab the cue ball and set it in place. I chalk the end of my pool stick before leaning over the edge of the table and gliding it between my pointer and middle finger. My eyes shoot up to Jake, who is watching me closely, an amused downward grin onhis perfect lips. I set my eyes back on the cue ball, release a breath that feels more shaky than sure, and thrust my stick forward.
The loud crack from the resin balls bouncing against each other fills the room, and three balls sink in—all solids.
“Lucky shot,” Jake claims with a teasing glint in his eyes. He’s impressed, I can tell, but he won’t admit it.
“Think so?” I challenge with a twist of my smile, my fingers trailing the edge of the pool table as I make my way around. His tongue peeks out as he licks his lips slowly, pulling the bottom one in under his teeth. Heat runs along my skin in a pulse.
I turn my back to him, grabbing my beer off the table and taking a long sip, releasing the tension building up within me. An effort proved pointless when I catch his eyes in the reflection of the mirrored wall, still watching me.
I stare back at him. The air between us whirs with its thickness, alive with something neither of us are ready to name. The alcohol has silenced my mind, and for once, I’m grateful for it. His smirk deepens, slow and knowing, like he’s fully aware of the effect he’s having on me and enjoying every second of it.
I reposition myself on the table and sink my next three balls effortlessly, earning praise from Jake that ignites my competitive nature even more. When I look at him with a pout on my lips after a scratch on my last ball, his lips curl into a slow and devious smile.
“Careful, Allie.” The deep tone of his voice pummels me. “Keep looking at me like that, and I might start to think youwantme to lose.”
My heart stumbles, each thud a heavy pound in my ears. I’m not sure what my face shows, but it must tell him more than I want him to know because his smile only deepens as he stalks over to me.
“If you lose, it’s because I’m the better player,” I say, feigning a confidence I no longer feel.
“That might be the case.”
“Itisthe case.”
“I guess we’ll see, won’t we?” he says with a smirk as he chalks his stick. Then he brushes past me, his mouth coming close to my ear. His voice is low and almost gravelly. “Now, let's watch Daddy play.”
My heart stops—stops—in my chest. That low hum turning into a full-on flame.
Jake sinks two balls in one shot, lining himself up easily for a third. And then a fourth. My face must falter as my nerves rise because he says, “Don’t get scared now,” with a taunting grin.
Crack after crack, he sends the last of the striped balls into each pocket with ease, claiming the table for himself. He shoots me a cocky grin, and I stonewall him with a purse on my lips, a proven sore loser at heart.
“Eight ball,” he calls from across the table. “Left corner pocket.”
My heart kicks up speed as I watch him align his shot, everything in me willing him to lose so I can have more of this night with him. More of his flirty gaze that creates tingles inside me everywhere.
He pulls back on his pool stick and sends it forward, shooting the cue ball across the table and into the eight ball at the perfect angle that sends it home. My heart falls to my stomach with defeat.
He stands from his place at the table, slowly sauntering over to the high-top where I’m seated, his sexy grin almost stuck in place. When he’s just before me, he looks down the bridge of his nose at me in triumph, his broad chest and large frame towering over me.
“That’s game,” he says with a command in his tone.
“Congratulations,” I reply with a sly grin, doing well to hide a shiver as I straighten my posture. “You’ve earned your freedom, Mr. Cooper.” My voice is much sultrier than I mean for it to be, but I can’t help it. Desire bubbles over in my core, and the tequila-beer mixture is dangerously taunting me to follow it.
Jake’s eyes stay on mine, and they don’t waiver. I note the glassy veil that’s come over them and wonder if that’s what has his guard down—or is it me? I wonder if we’ll ever get a night like this again, or if this is where our time runs out. It’ll always run out with a guy like Jake, won’t it?
These kinds of things don’t last.
He takes a deep breath, releasing it slowly, and I bask in the sweet malty scent of it. I wait for his unapologetic goodbye.
