"You never mentioned how much the pot is worth tonight." He brought her over and kissed her temple. "My turn."
"Good luck," she mumbled.
He walked to the table. The shot he'd planned on taking looked harder once he got into position. Taking his time, he walked to the corner, peered down the playing area. The only opening would be a bounce off the side with the hope that he missed the two balls covering the one he needed to hit.
Looking over at Joey, he winked. She dipped her chin, pushing him to go with his gut. With her confidence in him, he chalked the end of the cue stick and lined up the shot. He kept his fingers loose. Any tension would move the stick. He knew measurements. He knew angles. Shooting pool was a lot like running a circular saw down a hard piece of oak. He knew what the piece would look like as soon as he made the first cut.
The stick slid between his fingers. At contact with the ball, he straightened. The shot was now out of his control.
Bouncing off the wall of the table, the ball rolled between the four and seven solids, tapped the striped eleven ball, knocking it against the bumper of the corner pocket.
That's all he needed to do. He'd set Joey up for the shot while blocking the corner pocket from the other team.
Unless Charlie cleared the table in the next turn, he and Joey were still in the game. He met Joey's gaze across the table. Her eyes warmed, and she lifted her brows, tipping her head in respect. He couldn't have planned that move better.
He returned to her side and stood beside her. She brushed her shoulder against his arm, and he put his hand on the back of her neck, enjoying the hell out of having her close.
"Pretty sweet shot, Carr." Her gaze dropped to his mouth. "You might've saved the game."
"Nah, the pressure is on you." He caught sight of her tongue, wetting her bottom lip. "I don't think you'll have any problem with cleaning the table."
"Hm." The muscles in her slim neck contracted as she swallowed. "We'll see."
Her turn came with four striped balls on the table and one solid. He slid his hand down her back and patted her butt in good luck. She took two steps and pivoted on the spiked heel of her left foot. Striding back to him, she stood close and put her hands on his chest.
"Kiss me," she whispered loud enough he heard her over the music. "Now."
Bossy. He liked it. He took it as a challenge.
Slipping his arm around her, he palmed her ass and yanked her forward. Her pelvis hit him solidly, driving her upper body against his chest. He captured her mouth, opening her lips, and kissed her deeply.
She made the moves. She used her tongue. She draped herself against the front of him.
But it was fake. It was a show for the men watching from the pool table.
He sprawled his hand on her ass and squeezed, pulling her stiff body closer. She held on to her tight control.
Understanding her need to distract the other players and gain the advantage, he wanted her to know that she needed no help. Not from him. Not from diverting her opponents.
He pulled back. She blinked up into his face, her lips puffy and thoroughly enjoyed.
"Get it, tiger," he whispered, smacking her ass, snapping her out of the arousal.
She squared her shoulders and sashayed her way to the table. In his peripheral vision, Charlie's jaw hung open, and his gaze never wavered off Joey.
The muscle in Wyatt's cheek twitched. He missed Joey's shot because he wanted to ground Charlie's face into the pool table
Chapter 8Joey
EXCITEMENT BUBBLED inside Joey. She put the car in park, took out her keys, and rushed out of the vehicle. Not only had she and Wyatt pulled off winning the pool pot for the night, but she'd spent it with him doing normal date-like things.
She'd surprised herself that through the butterflies, the kisses, the touches, she'd been able to hold it all together and shoot one of her best games in months. The look on Charlie's face when she sunk the eight ball was priceless. He and Rabbit would be coming after her full force next Friday.
To mess with their heads, she might even go to a different tavern next Friday and make them sweat it out, waiting for her to return so they could win back the pot from the last three weeks when she'd kicked their butt. She laughed, muffling the noise in the still of the night with her lips. No, she'd go back to Riverside Bar. The more money coming in was going to get her closer to her ten-thousand-dollar goal.
She stepped onto the sidewalk in front of the apartment complex and stopped, peering up at the second story.
She closed her eyes, emotions swarming her. Hopefully, her grandpa was proud of her for how she was managing the business.
As a child, he'd take her to the Rec Center and teach her how to play pool. Even at a young age, she'd quickly learned to cherish each summer when her grandpa would spend time with her. Growing up without a dad, her grandpa had taught her the things she imagined other dads taught their kids. She'd learned to fish and bait her own hook, push lawnmowers while earning a few dollars, and grew to understand that hard work paid the bills and luck should never be relied on to make her happy.
Because of her grandpa, it was an easy decision to move to Missoula and run the apartment complex by herself when the lawyer had contacted her about Grandpa's will. She wasn't walking into a load of money or being set up for life. Grandpa handed her a way of earning a living that required her to work hard and use her brain.
Her mom had
