His brown eyes widen and his jaw ticks. I almost let a smile slip, but I won’t give him the satisfaction that this banter between us is amusing me. He glances away and I exhale a sigh. If he looked at me any longer, I wouldn’t have been able to resist saying something else.
As Beck readies his shot, he spins his hat backward and the action has me spinning with it. My knees weaken and I’m caught off guard. This simple act has me suddenly feral for a man I’m not supposed to have feelings for anymore.
My gaze moves over his body slowly. The way his back arches, it’s not hard to notice the muscles that take shape as his shirt stretches. His bicep swells as he grips the stick and leans across the pool table. I don’t know what he’s been up to all these years while I’ve been away, but he’s definitely doing something to keep himself fit.
I bite my lip as I continue studying his features, tilting my head to admire the way his backside still fills out a pair of jeans nicely. His brow lifts while he concentrates. It’s the same, but somehow different. Because Beck isn’t the boy I fell in love with and left. He’s older. He’s a man now.
He straightens and turns to face me, and I feel exposed. I draw in a breath and the corner of his lip curls up.
But he doesn’t call me on it. “Your turn,” he quips.
Squinting my eyes, I scrutinize him. But I don’t overthink it. The alcohol is numbing my senses, and I won’t allow myself to.
I grab my stick and shuffle closer to the pool table. I’m about to attempt a strategic shot when Milo Stone enters the bar.
He gives me a wide smile from across the room as he makes his way over.
“Rosie Stone,” he greets before wrapping me up in a hug I don’t feel like I deserve.
“Milo. Hey…it’s good to see you.” My words come out muffled in the crook of his neck. I don’t bother correcting him that I’ve been going by my maiden name since I left.
“I was hoping you’d come.” He releases me but still holds his smile. “Guess I shouldn’t be surprised the first place I’d run into is The Sandbar with Beck.”
“Whoa,” I say, quick to correct him. “I’m not with Beck. I came with Jack and Stella. Beck just happened to be here.”
Milo chuckles. “Sure. Whatever you say. And that’s why you’re playing pool…together.” He raises his brows, unconvinced.
“It’s true. In fact, Beck was here on a date.”
Milo’s smile fades. “For real? You didn’t mention anything about a date.”
“I don’t tell you everything,” Beck mutters. “You’re my little brother, not my therapist.”
“Bet you don’t tell Dr. Sam everything either,” Milo shoots back.
I swing my attention to Beck, my chest tightening. “You have a therapist?”
Beck rolls his eyes. “Don’t start feeling some kind of existential guilt or something, he’s just busting my balls. Of course I don’t see a therapist.”
“Oh.” I bite the side of my lower lip, unable to stop my brain from feeling remorseful. Like I have somehow contributed to Beck seeing a therapist when he never would have before.
Milo fist-bumps his shoulder. “So a date, huh? Who with?”
“Doesn’t matter,” Beck grumbles.
“You’re not still seeing that cougar from LA, are you?”
I can’t help myself; I snort out a laugh.
“The woman with the legs…who Jack set you up with?”
“Like I said,” Beck growls, giving his brother a death look, “doesn’t matter. It’s over with.”
“Well, what do you say, Rosie. We should get a beer and catch up,” Milo suggests.
Getting a beer with Milo Stone feels all kinds of wrong. Milo was just a boy when I left. He can’t possibly be old enough to drink, let alone with me.
“I think Rosie has had enough to drink,” Beck states, his tone grating against my skin.
