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I waited for the butterflies that didn’t come. Before I could make a snarky comment about him touching me, an “Excuse me” sent a shiver down my spine.
The lack of enough space between tables forced Griffin to let me go as a body brushed against mine at the same time, and I took the break shot. The balls went wild, but none went into a pocket as expected. When I looked at Griffin, expecting a gleeful and teasing smile, I got a view of his pinched brows and a frown. Finally, he looked at me then at the table.
He regained some bluster and said, “How about this? If I win, we leave.”
I tilted my head and said, “And if I win, we stay.” I gave him a huge grin, trying to ignore what felt like heat at my back. I refused to look to see if Striker had eyes on me.
Griff nodded, making the same mistake that had won my brother a lot of money when he used to come here. People would consider Matty a mark when really, they were. We were often underestimated. Yes, I’d lost my share of games and had blown this break shot. But unless Griffin was some kind of pool shark, I’d win in the end.
Surprising me, Griffin sank several balls until his cue ball was in an impossible position to sink any of his balls without sinking one of mine. We traded smirks as I moved around the table to end the game. As I leaned down to make my first shot, I locked eyes with the most vivid pair of blues I’d ever seen. Shaken to the core, I was frozen in place by Striker’s penetrating gaze and unreadable expression.
“Stop giving every guy in here a peek of your tits.”
I glanced down and spotted my camisole gapping. I may have next to nothing for tits, but that didn’t mean I wanted to flash the bar. A flush crept up my neck. Ignoring both men and the embarrassment trying to take hold, I found enough concentration to take the shot. In went the ball, centering me again. I ran the board and smirked at Griffin when I sank the eight ball.
“I win,” I said as Griffin came over. When he leaned in, I leaned back, leaving us in an awkward position with my butt resting on the table but holding myself at an angle as if I planned to lie back.
“Looks like you need competition.”
Griffin and I turned almost as one and faced the man capable of melting this ice queen.
“She doesn’t need anything. We were just leaving,” Griffin said from behind me.
I smiled sweetly at Striker. “Give me a minute.”
Pivoting on my heels, I snagged Griff’s wrist and dragged him several feet away.
“Remember why we’re here,” I scolded and waved over the brunette who hadn’t given up the possibility of snagging Griff’s attention. “Don’t ruin this for me.”
Before he could speak, the brunette was there.
“My friend, Griff, wants to buy you a drink.” I gave Griff a warning glare when he finally stopped looking in the other man’s direction.
Griff turned to the beauty. “Yeah, sure, darling. What are you having?”
And there it was. The magnetic charm that won over most women. If I’d been slightly attracted to Griff romantically, I’d be annoyed at his casual use of the word darling with any woman he spoke to. Luckily, I wasn’t, or I’d be broken-hearted already.
When they headed to the bar, I spun and walked back to the man with the waiting smirk. His beat out Griff’s any day, sending a tingle straight to my core.
When he turned, I was given a view of the tribal patterned tattoos on the backs of his arm he wore like badges of honor. When he faced me again, I focused on his dark, thick hair. Something a girl could hold on to when he fucked your brains out. But it was his face, too pretty but with a manly edgy, that caught me in his tangled web of self-assuredness.
“Slumming again, princess?” So he remembered me. “I hope I didn’t interrupt something,” he said with a sly grin, belying his words.
I gave as good as I got. “Only the smack-down I’m about to lay on you.”
His lips twitched as he tried to hold back a grin. Talk about satisfying.
“Why don’t you put a little wager on your words?” he asked.
Never backing down from a challenge, I said, “What is it you want to play for?”
A round of cheers, hand slaps, and leers came from the peanut gallery surrounding us. I hadn’t noticed anyone paying attention to our little transaction until then.
I wasn’t worried. I could hold my own, as I’d proven with Griff.
“Well?” I said.
He glanced over me. Actually, a better description was that his eyes did a slow perusal of my body. I felt as much as saw his eyes taking me in. “You aren’t my type. I like women with curves.”
