Page 51 of Danger

Every head in here swivels. Including Rylee’s.

Great. Perfect. Here we go.

He guides me toward the pool table. Then he grabs a cue, rolling it once between his fingers like he hasn't just made half the bar stop talking. He leans down, mouth near my ear.

“Alright,” he says. “Lesson one.”

I blink. “Lesson?—?”

His eyes flick briefly toward Finn, then Rylee.

“Two birds. One stone.”

Rylee I get but Finn Banks? I don’t actually care about Finn Banks. He was just an example from a long list of Men Who Don’t Notice Me.

Danger steps behind me. My back brushes his chest. And suddenly I forget how pool works. “First thing you need to know,” he says, his hand covers mine on the cue. “You want his attention, you just take it.”

So, he thinks I can just… claim male attention like it’s a stray dog I can whistle over?

His other hand settles lightly at my hip, adjusting my stance. My brain stops functioning. “How am I supposed to take it?”

His mouth tilts against my ear. “Don't chase someone's eyes.” His fingers guide mine along the cue. “Make 'em earn yours.”

My stomach does a slow, traitorous flip.

“That sounds easier said than done.”

“Most things are.”

He adjusts my elbow. “Do you know what desperate looks like?”

“What?”

“Looking around the room every five seconds to see who's watching.”

I exhale a laugh. “Okay. Rude.”

His grin brushes against my hair.

“No.” A pause. “Accurate.”

I roll my eyes, even though I'm smiling. “So now what?”

“Keep talking.”

“About what?”

He shrugs. “Doesn't matter.”

I stare down at the cue like it holds the answer. Nothing. Absolutely nothing comes to mind.

“Um… I hate pickles.”

Then, surprisingly, he laughs. Easy. Completely unguarded. I decide, rather inconveniently, that I could listen to that laugh all day.

“Darlin’,” he says, shaking his head. “That's the best you could do?”

I turn toward him, unable to hold back my own laugh. “I panicked.”