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Talulah remembered the bottle Ellen had brought over. Ellen had mentioned sharing it with her, but Talulah would simply buy another bottle. “Okay. I just happen to have some pinot noir,” she said—and was somehow more eager than usual to drink it.
Charlie was particularly good at pool. But so was Brant. They enjoyed playing because they were evenly matched. “Damn, I just set you up,” Charlie complained, using his cue stick to indicate the ball he’d accidentally knocked to the brink of the corner pocket.
“And I’m going to take full advantage.” Brant was so immersed in the game and trying to engineer a win, even though he was currently behind, that he was glad they’d decided to come to Hank’s Bar and Grill. Hanging out with Charlie reminded him of all the fun they’d had together over the years and made it possible to forget the recent strain.
He sank the nine and was sizing up a much trickier bank shot when Charlie cursed, making him flinch and send the cue ball into the side pocket. “What the hell?” Brant growled. But then he followed Charlie’s gaze, saw what’d caused his reaction and lowered his stick.
Talulah and Jane had just walked in. The two women were dressed casually in jeans and flip-flops. Talulah had on a red top with short sleeves while Jane wore a pink-and-white one with straps. They were laughing and talking while waiting for the bartender to take their order, and they hadn’t spotted him and Charlie. But Hank’s was too small a place for them not to notice eventually.
“Let’s get out of here,” Brant said.
Charlie frowned. “No way. You don’t have to worry. I’m not going to say anything to her. Besides, our food hasn’t even come. And we’re in the middle of a game.”
Brant eyed his beer. If he stayed, he was going to need a lot more alcohol—except that drinking away the awkwardness he felt being around Charlie and Talulah at the same time was probably the worst thing he could do. This situation was a recipe for disaster even without the alcohol. But wild horses couldn’t drag Charlie away; he was too obsessed with Talulah. “Fine. Let’s finish our game,” Brant said and gestured for him to proceed.
“You want your shot over again?” Charlie asked.
Brant deserved a second chance, but he shrugged. “No, it’s fine.”
Charlie didn’t argue. He was too interested in keeping an eye on Talulah to focus on much else. The penalty Brant would receive would only help Charlie win, anyway. And that was what Charlie wanted. To win—not just the game, but the girl who’d broken his heart.
Brant stood by, watching as Charlie moved around the table, searching for his best shot. He eventually found one he seemed to like, but before bending to take it, he glanced at the bar once again, and Brant couldn’t help doing the same. Talulah and Jane were speaking to the bartender.
Charlie missed, so Brant stepped up and managed to sink the fourteen in the side pocket. He didn’t have a good angle on anything after that. Although he still had the ten and the thirteen on the table, the way they were positioned meant he’d be more likely to sink the eight ball and lose the game if he took a shot at them. So he simply did what he could to block Charlie, hoping he’d have a better opportunity next turn.
Brant stood waiting, on edge as Charlie tested various angles and eyed different pockets. He was taking forever, which irritated Brant, but he supposed it didn’t really matter. As Charlie had said, their food hadn’t even arrived yet. There was no way Brant would be able to convince him to leave, or come up with a good excuse to leave himself, until after that.
Jane caught sight of them first. She nudged Talulah as they were carrying their drinks to a table, and Brant saw Talulah stop walking the second she realized. He smiled and nodded, hoping to put her at ease, but Charlie had been keeping such a close watch on them that he immediately noticed, and she looked away and started walking again without acknowledging either of them.
What were the chances they’d show up here at the same time? Brant thought. But in a town this size, the chances were actually pretty good. There wasn’t a lot of nightlife in Coyote Canyon, and because this place played music that appealed to a younger crowd, Hank’s was the obvious choice for anyone under forty.
Their food couldn’t take too much longer. He’d eat. Then he’d say he was exhausted and go. If Charlie wanted to stay, that was up to him, but Brant was going to remove himself from the situation, hoping that would somehow make things easier on Talulah.
“She won’t even look at me,” Charlie said.
Clenching his teeth, Brant had to talk himself out of telling Charlie to grow up. “She’s just having a drink with an old friend, Charlie,” he said, once he’d regained control. “Give her a break.”
Charlie straightened, scowling at Brant’s words. “Why are you always defending her?”
“I’m not defending her. I’m trying to give you a little perspective. She’s moved on. You need to, as well.”
“I’m sick of everyone saying that, as if I can decide and make it happen like that.” He snapped his fingers. “I wish!”
“Just take your turn,” Brant said, gesturing at the pool table.
Charlie threw him a dagger of a glance before sinking his last ball and following up with the eight ball to win the game. “There you go,” he said tauntingly. “I took my turn.”
“Good for you.” Brant was about to walk out even before the food arrived. As far as he was concerned, Charlie had been feeling sorry for himself long enough, and Brant was tired of putting up with it. But after he returned his pool cue to the rack, he spotted Becky, the waitress who’d taken their order, weaving through the tables, and he could see she had their wings, fries and bacon burgers on her tray.
“Hey,” Charlie said, greeting her when she reached them. “I’d like to send that woman with the long blond hair over there a note. If I give you twenty bucks, will you get me a piece of paper and a pen and take it over to her?”
“Sure,” she said, enthusiastic about the big tip.
“Charlie, don’t,” Brant murmured after Becky scurried off to do his bidding. “Leave Talulah alone.”
“Why? This might be my only chance to let her know how I feel.”
“She’s well aware of how you feel.”
