Page 41 of See It Through
I whipped around to face Remi again. “Mac left?”
“He did.” He picked up a pool cue, passing it back and forth between his hands. “Got a call while we were at the bar ordering. Some big, important guest showed up at the resort a day early. He had to head back to work to deal with it. Told me to keep you company, so that’s what I’m going to do.”
“I”—could not believe my brother had ditched me without a goodbye—“think I’ll head out too.”
“Stay.” He used the cue to block my path. “Let me beat you at least once.”
“I see what you’re doing. It’s not going to work.”
He cocked his head. “Isn’t it?”
“Nope.”
His mouth slid into a slow, easy grin. “I get it. No one likes to lose.”
Damn him. He already had my number. There weren’t many challenges I had the willpower to walk away from.
“Fine. You want me to sweep the floor with you; that’s your decision.” I popped my hip, tipping my head toward the table. “Rack ’em up, Town. Let’s do this.”
Chapter Nineteen
Remington
Hannah insisted we flipa coin for who took the first shot when I’d tried to be a gentleman and let her have it. No matter where I’d traveled, there always seemed to be a pool table, so I’d played a lot over the years. I wasn’t a world champion by any means, but I held my own. Yet, despite what I’d said, I wasn’t out to beat Hannah. Giving her the first shot had been my olive branch, which she’d rejected soundly.
Then she won the coin toss anyway, the goddamn menace.
“I can’t believe you sicced Tina and Teller on me.”
Her eyes flashed to me as she chalked her cue. “I don’t know; it seemed like you were enjoying your time with them. Looked like you were on a double date.”
“You believe I was there willingly?”
She smirked, the little shit. “I can’t imagine any other reason you’d be sitting at a table with those three, listening to Tina perform Shakespeare.”
“Too bad you missed Teller reciting Cummings.”
Her brows rose. “Moving, was it?”
“Oh yeah.” I tapped the table with my fist. “I came in for a drink. Maybe some conversation if anyone worth talking to was around. Then those three showed up, sat at my table, and there was no escape—not until Cormac took pity on me.”
Tina and Teller had been less than amused when he’d revealed Hannah had been joking about my love for poetry. Not that I had anything against it, but I’d never had the burning desire for it to be recited to me ad nauseam.
“My brother”—she shook her head—“barely remembers you, you know, so he doesn’t hold a grudge.”
I didn’t need to point out she seemed to be the only one keeping hold of her grudge against me. She knew it as well as I did. But her family’s anger was a decade old. Hers was a lot fresher, more painful. If she still needed to be mad at me, I’d let her use me as a target. I understood what it was like to carry a load of anger. If it didn’t come out somewhere, it’d tear her apart, and I wasn’t going to stand by and let that happen. I could withstand her anger when it manifested into poetry and potshots.
And the best fucking kiss of my life.
She leaned over the table, lining up her shot. Standing slightly behind her, I allowed myself a meandering look at her long, leanly muscled body. Legs that went on for days and days. An ass that filled out her jeans in all the right ways. A waist that curved in just enough for a pair of hands to fit on either side. Hannah was well made. Sturdy enough to face down stallions and Wyoming winters while painfully feminine in her little movements, her scent, sweet laughter, and all the details that made up the rest of her.
The luxurious, thick, shiny hair cascading down her back was a contrast to the simplicity of her style. She’d worn it down tonight, and my fingers twitched to trail through it, to bury themselves in the depths, to know if it felt as soft and silky as it looked.
She’d made the first shot and was lining up her second when she spoke. “I feel your eyes on my ass.”
“Think I’d be insulting you if I didn’t look. It’s a mighty fine ass.”
Her shot went wide. She whirled around, her cheeks flushed. “You did that on purpose.”