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“Come on. One more drink. I’ll even let you try to regain your honour at pool.”
“Oh, regain my honour, huh?” She laughed. “I’m pretty sure I’m up about a tonne of games.”
“Not how I see it.” He winked, tilting his head forward in a gesture that was sweetly old-fashioned. “You go set us up. I’ll be right over.”
“One game,” she lifted a finger, relaxing for the first time in days. The power company had promised she’d be reconnected by Monday. She’d paid down some of the credit card. From the depths of despair, things were looking up, even without Syed and his ridiculously offensive offer of money.
“Sure.” Then he leaned forward, his large frame bearing down towards hers. “Until I whip you, and then you’ll be beggin’ me for a rematch.”
His closeness made her swallow. Not out of desire or need, so much as guilt.
She had to put an end to his hopes that they’d ever be more than friends. She smiled weakly and nodded, watching him walk towards the bar before shaking her head and standing.
Mistake or not, being out on a Saturday night was actually incredibly liberating. With Lexi sleeping over at a friend’s, and the unexpected night off, she had a rare slice of free time and Dave was a pretty good companion. She didn’t want to hurt his feelings, though.
“Racked us up?” He grinned as he sauntered over, a tray balanced in the palm of his hands.
Sarah’s eyes dropped to it suspiciously. “Shots?”
“Beer too,” he pointed out with a wink, balancing the tray on a nearby bar stool. “To chase.”
“God, I haven’t done shots since I was fifteen and made myself sick on tequila.”
“Well, you’re in luck. This here is the finest whisky in town.”
She sent him a sceptical look. “I work here. I happen to know the ‘finest’ whisky is not all that fine.”
He laughed, his head tossed back in mirth, his body reverberating with amusement. And it was a nice body. Strong. Tanned. Lean. But she felt nothing when she looked at him, except a sort of abstract admiration. “You chicken?”
“Chicken?” She arched a brow and reached for a shot glass. “Definitely not.”
She tipped the glass against her lips, instantly hating the smell, then threw it back in one quick movement. Dave watched with undisguised admiration.
It was the complete opposite to the feelings coursing through Syed Al’Eba. On the other side of the bar, where he’d spent the past ten minutes, he had to dig his hands deep into the pockets of his dark jeans to stop from wrapping his fingers around the neck of the man who was getting Sarah wasted and ogling her like a just-whipped gelati at the markets. In tiny denim cut offs and a white t-shirt that showed even her petite curves to perfection, Syed could certainly understand why the blonde guy was looking at her as though he wanted to lick her all over.
Her laugh reached Syed, even in the crowded bar. Watching her was making him want to pound something with his fist, but looking away wasn’t an option.
Sarah bent over the pool table, the cue in her hand, her eyes trained on the balls in the middle.
“You tryin’ to throw me off my game?” Dave muttered from behind her and she turned around, her blonde hair
fluffing about her face as she sent him a look of mocking amusement.
She straightened, setting the cue down on the edge of the table and walking towards him. “We’re friends,” she said, the whisky heavy on her breath. “Don’t you go staring at my legs while we’re playing pool, because that’ll just get confusing.”
“Well, don’t have such starable legs.”
“Starable? That’s not really a word,” she grinned, poking him in the chest and turning back to the pool table.
The alcohol had gone straight to her head. “I don’t think I’m going to win tonight,” she said, cracking the cue across the table and breaking the triangle. She sunk two balls straight away, and winked at Dave. “But I could be wrong.”
“Hey, it’s win win for me. You just keep bending over, baby…”
Sarah frowned. That was too far. Even in her slightly foggy state, she knew she needed to get a grip of things. “Uh oh.” Her enormous blue eyes, almost green in the dim light of the bar, linked to his. “I think we need to talk.”
“Uh oh is right.” He walked towards her, grabbing their beers as he passed and holding one out to her. Though she’d had more than enough to drink, she sipped it to wipe the whisky flavour from her mouth.
“I know we have this kind of flirty thing we do,” she said quietly, dropping her gaze to the floor. There were big splotches of spilled drinks, and they were sticky underfoot. “But I really do just think of you as a friend, you know.”
