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“Tough luck,” the worker chuckled as he stacked them back up for Isaac. The alpha’s brow wrinkled and the tip of his tongue stuck out as he got to work. The first ball did the same as Amos’s knocking one portion down but leaving a little too much of the rest.
“He needs to aim lower,” I said to Oaks.
“You’ve done this before?” he questioned, letting out a laugh at my evil grin. “You’re going to show them up, aren’t you?”
“Oh, absolutely,” I answered, waiting as Isaac tried and failed.
“Any others in your group? Another round?” the worker asked.
“Give me a shot,” I said at the same time Sawyer did. I waved the tattooed beta to go first. He narrowed his eyes, knowing something was up but stepping to the front anyway.
He leaned in so close I could smell the spearmint on him.
“If you’re going to hand me my ass, at least check mine out before you do,” he teased, stepping ahead of me and sticking his ass out. Laughing, I gave it a smack before the worker side-eyed us and told him to take his shot.
Even if I didn’t promise, I checked him out anyway. Sawyer was gorgeous. His tattoos were amazing, every inch of his neck, arms and likely more, covered in intricate inkwork. Everything was cohesive, blending together into a masterpiece.
His muscles were softened by a bit of a dad bod but they still flexed as he tossed the balls. He had an amazing ass, his jeans hugging it perfectly.
“You’re staring,” Colt teased.
“Have you seen his ass? Of course, I’m staring,” I joked.
“It is a nice ass,” Jackson mused, not shy at all. Sawyer turned and gave us both a look full of heat and I heard Jackson swallow hard.
Fuck yes, I hoped they did explore a bit.
Sawyer lost on the third ball, leaving even more than the alphas.
The worker turned to me. “You look like you know how to throw. Let’s see it,” he said, holding out a hand. Before I could take out my own money Sawyer was dropping bills into his hand for me. I let it slide, this time, and picked up the first ball.
Three hits to win. I aimed for the bottom right, tumbling the entire side down in one hit, before repeating on the left. The guys hadn’t said a word yet.
The final ball hit the middle, tumbling them down so not a single pin was standing.
“Sorry, you didn’t knock them down off the table,” the worker said. “You can choose a small stuffed animal.”
“Excuse me?” Amos’s voice was low and deadly. The worker swallowed hard.
“Rules are rules… sir,” he tacked on the last bit and stepped back.
“You said knock them down. They’re all down,” Isaac said, stepping in front of me and Sawyer.
“Guys, it’s fine,” I said, though the display was more than a little satisfying. I hated dishonest people.
“Come on, they want me to keep those things. She’s the first to win this season,” he protested quietly, glancing around as if someone would pop out and fire him.
“She won,” Amos repeated. The guy glanced back and forth between them. A crowd was growing and he was backed into a metaphorical corner.
“I’ll walk through here and shout that the games are rigged. Don’t try me,” Silas said as he peeked between the wall of alphas at the front of our group.
“There’s eight of us,” Vince agreed. “I’ve got a loud mouth.”
“You can’t bully me into giving you a prize,” he tried again, though it was a feeble attempt.
“Ah, but you see, she did win,” Isaac said. “It’s not bullying, it’s demanding a fair deal. We paid, we played, she won, she gets her prize.”
“Fine,” he growled, climbing on the table and unhooking the sun from its spot. “You’re banned from this booth, though.”
