Quinn sighs and hands the good stick to Oaklee. “Thank you,” she says, taking the cue and smiling at Cade.
He sits on one of the chairs at our pub table and grins widely at the woman who stole his heart. It’s gross, really, the way they keep staring at each other and smiling.
“Don’t take my drink,” I state, breaking their love bubble.
He glances down at the glass and winces. “No worries, Charli. I’m not a big fan of sugar encrusted tequila, practically straight from the bottle.”
I roll my eyes. “Says the guy who used to do body shots of said tequila off Emily Duncan’s stomach.”
He stares at me, clearly not impressed, and that’s when it hits me.
I spin to where Oaklee stands and wince. “Sorry.”
She shrugs. “It’s fine. I know he was promiscuous when we met.”
He snorts and takes her hand. “I’ve always been looking for you, beautiful,” he says softly, pulling her into his arms and kissing her soundly.
I make a gagging noise and move to the table. “I’m gonna break before you make me vomit.”
“That’ll be the margarita,” Camden states with a laugh.
I flip him off too and get myself into position. It’s more difficult than normal, lining up my break, but I manage. I hit the cue ball hard, sending it careening into the triangle of balls and watching them scatter. It’s a decent break, with two balls falling into the side pockets.
“Not bad,” Quinn says, “considering your major sponsor is tequila.”
I flip him off too.
“Tequila makes me better!” I insist, throwing my arms up and doing a little shimmy and a shake for my successful break.
“If you say so,” Quinn mutters, taking a drink of his beer.
“Oh, I say so,” I blurt out, walking around the table to find my next shot. “And I’m always right.”
Two of my brothers bark out laughs. “I don’t think so,” Cade announces.
“I call bullshit,” Camden adds.
“What. Ever.” I line up my shot but miss. I don’t say anything, but that eleven ball was moving something fierce when I tried to hit it with the cue ball.
Clearly, that means I need to keep drinking.
Oaklee moves to the table, Cade hot on her heels. Normally I’d give them shit for him helping her pick her shot, but at the moment, I appear to be caught in some sort of force field. My eyes are locked on Quinn, his dark hair a little wild from his earlier shower, probably. Normally he styles it, sometimes in this faux-hawk style. It’s not really a mohawk, but kinda.
Makes sense, right?
Of course it does.
Anyway, it looks like he’s run his hands through his hair all night, which makes me wonder what those strands feel like. In all the years I’ve known him, I don’t think I’ve ever touched his hair. I mean, why would I? But all of a sudden, I want to walk over there and slide my fingers through those locks, just to see if they’re as soft as they look.
As if sensing my eyes on him, he glances my way. His dark eyes are intense as he stares back at me for way longer than appropriate.
What the hell is wrong with me tonight?
Quinn swallows a drink, keeping those dark orbs locked on my blue ones the entire time. The entire exchange feels…erotic.
Sexually charged.
Like foreplay.
