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“Who’s the poor sap?”
“Jericho St. James.”
“The prosecutor and Kate? Mmm. St. James is too intense.”
“Are you saying that Kate can’t handle him?”
“She’s so sweet. If he hurt her, I’d hate to get arrested for punching out the prosecutor.”
“Oh, Sean. Always the big brother.”
“Not always,” he said softly close to her ear. He smiled when he felt her tremble.
She took a big breath. “So, what do you say about another beer and a game of pool?”
“Sounds good. I’ll get the beer; you go rack up a table.”
He was relieved that their relationship seemed as easy and effortless as always.
They took a table near the back of the bar. Sean was hoping that no one from the station would come in. He selfishly wanted the time with Lana.
Lana had already racked up the balls and he set the beer down at a nearby table.
“Want me to break?” she asked, picking up her mug and taking a swallow.
“Sure, go ahead.”
Lana was a good pool player, and although he was a better player, he always let her win.
The break scattered the balls across the table. She called her first shot. “Nine ball in the corner pocket.”
Sean watched as she did a good job. When it was his turn, he took two shots and botched the third.
She smiled and slapped him on the bottom as she passed. Caught off guard, he turned to look at her.
“What’s the matter, O’Neill?”
“Keep it up, Dempsey.”
She stuck her tongue out at him. “I will.”
They played until the last of the solid balls were gone. She did a good job of beating him. He didn’t much care about that. He just liked being with her. Then she sank the eight ball with a pretty impressive shot.
He came up to her and gave her a high-five. “You’ve been practicing.”
“I have to, O’Neill, so you’ll stop letting me win.”
“I don’t…” She tickled him in the ribs, and he jumped back.
“Yes, you do, you sweet liar.”
When she sat down, she crossed her legs and his eyes riveted to her well-defined calves in the short skirt she wore. The skirt hugged every curve of her sexy body. Even the routine SDFD T-shirt she wore looked sexy on her. He couldn’t help wondering what she was wearing under her clothes.
“I’ll get us more beer and some pretzels,” he said as he headed for the bar. Tim Mahoney manned the bar, a fellow Irishman who had come from Ireland and opened up this establishment.
A soccer game played on the television above the bar. The walls decorated with Irish trappings.
Sean held up his fingers to indicate two beers and Tim filled two glasses and slid them over the bar into Sean’s waiting hands. He grabbed a bowl of pretzels and headed back to the table.
