Page 25 of Bad Attitude
“No ‘sir’ anymore?”
The glare and the blush both come back.Excellent.
She pulls a quarter and flips it, catching it on the back of her hand.
But I shake my head. “Your choice. Winner breaks from now on.”
“Fine,” she says, pulling a cue from the rack and carefully inspecting the tip. “I’ll take that advantage.”
She chalks up with the well-used cube on the side of the table, then readies herself with a stance that shows she knows what she’s doing. And elicits some wolf whistles from the watching men. The crowd has grown; there’s now a dozen guys near our table, giving us space but clearly more interested in Genesis than the game.
The cue ball slams into the rack, splitting it with acrackthat sends them skittering around the table. Two go down. She doesn’t hesitate, but lines up for another shot, and sinks the next ball.
The men behind her are staring at her ass,and one of them makes a comment to the guy next to him that I can’t hear over the music. They both laugh.
I tighten my grip on my cue, jaw clenching as I glare at them both. I should be watching her—I’m here forher—and I drag my eyes back to the game with an effort.
Genesis sinks three more in quick succession, her skill evident, then gets out of position, because the baize is crowded with my balls. She misses her next shot, then taps the side of the table with a grimace.
“All yours, Romeo.”
“Don’t choke,Romeo,” one of the men calls, raising a laugh from the others.
It opens the floor to more heckling.
“Going to let the pretty girl win?”
“’Course he is.”
Ignoring them, I line up my first shot. Genesis has left me plenty of options, clearing her balls out of the way. It doesn’t take long to knock down half of what’s left.
I look up to see Genesis watching me, standing leaning on her cue, her beer in her hand. Another man is approaching from behind her, and he’s oblivious to my stare. He says something to her which I can’t hear over the music and the noise, and I scowl as I line up my next shot.
She can handle herself. I know she can.
But he leans in, and his hand comes to rest on her waist. It’s enough to distract me. The ball catches in the jaws of the pocket, rattles, and bounces out.
I don’t care—it means Genesis won’t be standingnext to that asshole. I swap places with her, giving a muttered “Good luck,” as I pass, but my eyes aren’t on her. They’re on the guy who dared to lay a hand on her.
He gives me a smug grin, not backing down, and that only pisses me off more.
“Don’t touch what’s not yours,” I growl at him,thisclose from smashing my fist into his face.
“Hey Sweetbutt,” he calls past me. “You belong to this fella?”
“No,” Genesis says without hesitating, pots her next ball, then gives me a look that’s all challenge.
Shit.
But what did I expect?
“There you go,” the guy says. “Free game. I’ll touch whatever she lets me touch.”
“Not if you don’t want your fingers broken.”
He laughs with a nervous note, taking a half pace back.
I put him from my mind, turning to watch as Genesis clears the rest of the table, sinking the black while I still have three balls remaining.
