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“Like this?”
“Here.” He stepped up behind her and braced his weight on the table beside her. His hand closed over the one holding the pool stick. “Lower this hand a bit. You want a nice, straight slide. Like this.” He guided her through the movement.
His breath stirred the hair at her nape, sending a shiver down her spine. She tried to focus on his instruction, her technique, but the low bass of his voice so close to her ear and the feel of his body against hers served as a major distraction. Her skin flushed with heat.
On the table he placed his hand over hers. “Spread your fingers a little more. Yeah, like that. All right, I think you’re ready.”
When he eased away she immediately missed the contact. She focused on the cue ball. Lowered her bridge.
“Nice steady stroke,” he said. “Follow through.”
She struck the cue ball.
“Nice.”
The ball struck the stripe and it rolled forward, hitting just to the side of corner pocket and bouncing off. “Shoot.”
“Don’t be discouraged. That was close and your stance andtechnique looked really good. You’re a fast learner.” He rounded the table, searching for his own shot. When he found one he bent over and lined it up.
This time Avery took note of his position over the cue, of the hand that held the stick in a relaxed grip. There was a lot more to pool than she’d realized.
Her phone vibrated in her pocket and she pulled it out. Unknown caller. Not wanting to break his concentration she waited.
“It’s my business line,” she said after he sank the shot. She answered the call. Maggie Walden was calling about her teenage daughter, Brooke, who’d hurt her ankle at soccer practice. It was swollen and bruised and giving her quite a bit of pain.
“Why don’t you meet me at the clinic in, say, twenty minutes? I can take a look and see what’s going on.”
“Oh, thank you so much. I’m worried it’s more than just a sprain.”
“Well, we’ll know soon enough. See you shortly.”
After she disconnected the call, she grimaced at Wes. “Sorry.”
“To be continued.” His eyes crinkled as he took her cue and set it in the wall-mounted rack. “Let’s get you home.”
An hour later Avery had treated and released Brooke. The girl had sustained a grade-two lateral ankle sprain. She wasn’t elated to hear she’d be sidelined for at least three to six weeks.
By the time Avery replaced Brooke’s file in the cabinet, it was going on nine o’clock. She should get some much-needed sleep, but she was too keyed up for bed. She glanced out her officedoor and saw the work lights burning brightly inside the cottage. Wes had mentioned getting the tack strips up tonight so he’d be ready to apply that odor-stopping product in the morning.
Without thought she slipped through the door and made her way across the lawn. She’d just check in and see how the work was coming along. Plus, she’d forgotten to give him her keys—he’d need the Jeep in the morning to pick up that sealer. Maybe she could even help with the tack strips. It might be fun to work together.
The half-moon was high in the sky, casting a glow over the landscape. The grass swooshed as her feet cut through it, and the scent of freshly mown grass floated over on a mild breeze.
As she neared the carriage house, the low rumble of Wes’s voice carried through the open windows. She stopped on the stoop, not wanting to interrupt.
“I’m sure you’ll be fine,” he said. “You’ve got a lot of experience. It’s not like you’re a beginner.” He chuckled. “You can say that again.”
Avery’s stomach wobbled at the gentle sound of his voice. He must be talking to the woman Gavin had mentioned. Who was she? And why hadn’t Wes mentioned her? She must be someone important if he was keeping close tabs on her.
He was quiet for a while, and Avery shifted on the porch. She shouldn’t be standing here listening. She turned to go.
But his voice halted her steps. “It’s coming along really good. I’m hoping to get it finished before I leave, but that’s partly out of my hands. You know how I feel about leaving things unfinished... Yeah, I know.” He let out a low laugh. “I’m glad you had a good day. I worry about you.”
Avery pressed a hand to her throat. She didn’t like thefeelings roiling just now. Or the notion that she didn’t really know Wes at all.
She gave her head a shake. She’d met him less than three weeks ago. Was it even possible to know someone in such a short span of time?
He was silent now, apparently listening to whoever was on the line.
