Page 72 of Undone
Snaking my arm around Juliet’s waist, I hold her tight against me as we push through the crowd. A Journey tune comes on, and several people cheer, rushing to the dance floor. We dodge them, working our way across the bar.
Finally, we make it to the back room. Several pool tables stand side by side, each illuminated by a single bright light. Five dartboards hang on the back wall, groups of people gathered at high-tops dotted around the space. A waitress circulates, taking drink orders. Juliet and I weave through the people, trying to find an empty table.
“There’s Delaney,” Juliet hisses, nodding at the table in the corner.
Sure enough, the baker is leaning on a pool cue, waiting her turn. A broad-shouldered man’s next to her, sipping beer from a bottle. Next to him is a tall, muscular guy I vaguely recognize.
“And I think that’s the football player.” Juliet’s voice rises, her cheeks flushing with excitement.
Another woman’s standing with them, a tallish blonde. They’re all playing pool, and it’s the football player’s turn.
“Should we go say hi?” Juliet cuts her eyes at me, and I shake my head.
“No.”
“We totally should. Come on.” She grips my arm, dragging me in their direction. I try to hang back, but she’s determined.
Putting on a bright smile, she waves at Delaney as we approach the table.
“Oh, hey!” Delaney waves at us. “These folks are staying at the Grove. Visiting from Florida.”
Thwack. Pool balls fly across the green felt, one falling into the left pocket.
“Florida? That’s nice this time of year I bet.” The football player rises from his shooting position.
“Real nice,” Juliet says before taking a sip of her drink.
My gut churns, and I push down the urge to bolt—from these people, this crowd, the whole damn scene. I’ve never wanted to be back home, working in the barn with the animals, more than I do right now. Hell, I’d rather be mucking stalls.
“What brings you to our neck of the woods? Peachtree Grove’s not exactly a vacation destination. Not like Florida.” The man next to Delaney furrows his brow as he stares at us.
“Geez, Quinn. No need to interrogate them.” Delaney slaps his arm, and his scowl deepens.
“What? I’m not.”
“You kind of are,” the blonde points out. “But that’s on brand for you. I’m Bree.” She offers her hand to Juliet, then to me. “That’s Ryder.” She motions at the football player, and he waves his large hand in our direction. “And the grumpy one’s Quinn.” She lowers her voice, leaning over closer to Juliet. “He’s harmless. It’s mostly for show.”
The guy named Quinn rolls his eyes at Bree, but she only smiles angelically across the pool table at him. Ryder laughs, and Delaney takes her turn at the table before coming back to chat.
“What did you think of the peach danish this morning? I’ve been tweaking that recipe for a while now. Too much cinnamon? Not enough?” She bites at the side of her lip, waits for our response.
“It was great,” Juliet says, reassuring her. “I wouldn’t change a thing.”
“Whew.” Delaney swipes at her brow. “Glad to hear you liked it.”
“Excuse me.” Quinn slides between us and Delaney, smacking her playfully on the ass as he walks by.
“Stop!” Delaney giggles, bright-pink spots staining her cheeks. The two of them are obviously a couple, and I’d bet money the football player’s with the blonde. Must be date night at the Rowdy Tractor.
Quinn doesn’t say anything, instead eyeing the pool table and assessing his next move.
“Purple stripe, right pocket.” He lines up the pool cue and smacks at the balls, sinking the purple striped one.
“Nice shot, babe.” Delaney blows an air-kiss at Quinn as he stalks around the table, calculating his next shot.
“What do you all think of Peachtree Grove so far?” Bree asks, fixing her gaze on me. She seems friendly enough, her eyes warm. Like someone you could talk to.
“It’s real cute,” Juliet says, swirling her glass in a tight circle.