Page 23 of Sunday's Best

“Um, is the elbow rule a thing here? Like can I throw from”—I lean into the table—“here?”

“This isn’t the Olympics.” Logan shakes his head. “Just toss the ball into a cup.”

I throw. Miss spectacularly. The ball flies beyond the table, and Holden catches it right before it pegs him in the chest.

He raises an eyebrow and chuckles. “And you were worried about the elbow rule? You might want to try standing about five feet back from where you are now.”

“That was a warm up,” I insist, rolling my shoulder.

“Okay, redemption shot, then.” He tosses the ball back.

To nobody’s surprise, I miss again. This time I’m way too short.

Logan sighs. “Making me regret asking you to be on my team.”

Well, same. And it’s only made worse when Raquel turns out not to be a liar—she really is good at beer pong. She nails every throw. I miss all of mine.

Eventually, Logan wanders off for a refill and doesn’t come back. After a few obnoxious minutes with Raquel incessantly bouncing the ball on the plastic tabletop, she suggests we bring in another teammate for me to continue the game.

“Nah. Better quit while I’m ahead.” I look down at my nearly empty drink and scrunch my nose. The vodka’s already humming sweetly through my veins, and I find myself staring at Holden even more. Caring even less who notices.

Holden gives me an amused look. “You haven’t landed a single shot. I’d hardly say you’re ahead.”

I shush him with a flimsy flap of my hand. “Semantics.”

Raquel tucks herself against Holden’s side and smiles up at him. “Want to get out of here?”

My stomach flips inside out. Holden’s a little too quiet for a little too long. I can’t believe what a fucking idiot I am. He told me we were a mistake, and now he’s going to prove how little he thinks of me by taking off with some woman he just met.

“Maybe later.” He shakes off her touch and points toward the fire pit. It’s mostly embers now, with only the occasional flicker of firelight. “I should grab some more wood. Sunday, you wanna help?”

“Sure,” I agree a little too quickly.

His stride’s fast, and my much shorter legs struggle to keep up as we head around the back of a nearby trailer.

“Raquel seems nice,” I note.

“Is that why you’ve been glaring at her like you’re contemplating setting her on fire?”

Guess I wasn’t as subtle as I thought.

“Glaring and plotting someone’s demise is your thing, remember? I was squinting because it’s dark out.”

We stop between two closely parked rigs, far enough from the fire that the music is dull background noise and the air is a couple degrees cooler.

“You’re jealous,” he states with the type of slow, knowing smile that gets under my skin.

“Yeah, I wouldn’t mind having a fraction of her beer pong talent,” I blather on. “Do you think she uses that to hustle cowboys at rodeos? That’s what I would do.”

He steps in, close enough I can smell the wood smoke and beer and soap on him. The tension between us grows so thick, I have to force myself to swallow.

“You’ve been watching me all night, angel.”

“I could say the same about you.” I tip my chin up to meet his eyes, my heart fluttering madly in my throat. “You sure didn’t miss Logan grabbing my ass.”

“That wasn’t my favorite moment,” he admits. Holden reaches for me but stops short. “I shouldn’t be doing this.”

I take his hand, guiding it to my waist, and whisper, “But fuck it?”