Page 11 of Dirty Hot Valentine
“Oh my God.” I shook my head, imagining the two cousins being adventurous little daredevils. The image of Zach in a pilot uniform and shades tampered with my imagination, too.
He twisted his right arm and pulled up the sleeve to show me the mark on his elbow. “Twenty stitches.” He grinned proudly. “What about you? Got any good scars?”
My life had been simple and boring. Even my scar was boring. “I have one on my right knee.”
“You know you have to show it to me now,” he teased.
I hesitantly pulled up my dress just above the knee to reveal the little scrape of a scar on my kneecap, relieved I had shaved before I got here. “Nothing adventurous. Just a bike accident the day Dad took the training wheels off.”
He brushed his finger over my faint mark. “Ha! That’s barely a scar.”
A shiver ran through me. Quickly, I put my dress back down. “Sorry, it’s all I have.” I took the shot and missed.
“Thanks! Thanks a lot!” he quipped. “You’re killing me here.” He walked around the table looking for an angle as I’d tucked the cue ball behind the eightball. The fingers of his left hand formed into a bridge while he was lining up to take his next shot. He had really long fingers. The muscles on his forearm flexed when he stroked the pool stick in his hand.
From my angle, I took in his long legs and how the back pockets of his jeans curved on his shape. When he leaned over the table, his sweater separated from his body, exposing some tight flesh on his stomach and back. I swallowed, thinking Jess was very lucky, too.
He missed again. I didn’t know if he was a terrible player or just wanted to let me win. I finished my balls. “Eightball in the corner pocket,” I stated as I drew my stick back to make the shot. With one precise movement, I tapped the cue ball and pocketed the eight.
“Good job!” Kyle held his hand up and gave me a gentle high-five hand slap. I put my pool stick back on the wall when he interrupted me. “Oh, no. You have to play again.” He handed the pool stick back to me. “I’m just warming up.”
“Okay, one more,” I agreed. “You can break this time.”
When it was my turn again, I noticed that he stood right behind the pocket that I was aiming for. I was lining up for my shot, but it was difficult as he was shifting his weight back and forth from foot to foot.
I chuckled. “Can you move?”
“What? Am I bothering you?”
“Yes, it’s kind of annoying actually.” I lined back up for my shot, concentrating on the game. He moved a few feet away and twirled his pool stick back and forth. It was such a distraction that I missed an easy shot.
“Oh, good try,” he taunted.
Now, he was making a long shot, so I stood behind the pocket he was aiming for. I got into a comfortable stance, casually fixing my dress around the chest, and sucked a long breath in.
His eyes toggled between the ball and me, and he missed his shot.
“Oh, good try,” I retorted.
“I see.” He laughed. “You don’t play fair either.”
“Only because you started it. Don’t put that on me.” I set the stick on the table edge and rounded the corner.
“C’mon. I was messing with you. You gotta finish the game.”
“Sure. But I need to use the ladies’ room.”
He showed me the way as I warned him I knew where every ball was. When I returned the three guys were towering over the pool table.
“Do you mind if we play, too?” Brandon asked.
“Why would she? She’s kicking my ass. I don’t think she minds kicking yours too,” Kyle said. “She doesn’t play fair, though.”
I grabbed my stick. “Seriously?”
“I don’t buy it. It’s you who don’t.” Brandon chalked his.
Zach just stood there with his big eyes digging holes in me. Then he held a stick, looking as if he was going to kill someone with it.
