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Ginger raises an eyebrow at me, intrigued. “Yeah. That’s so.”

“Well, I think we could beat you.”

Leaning close enough to my ear, I can feel his breath fan across my skin. Hunter whispers, “Are you sure about this, Lottie? I really am a shit player. I was just trying to have a little fun.”

When I turn to look him in the eyes, our noses brush and he leans back a fraction so we’re not touching but close enough that one small movement would cause us to kiss. I try to ignore the heat pooling in my gut and the ache between my thighs. It doesn’t completely work but it’s enough that I can speak.

“Yeah. I got this.”

Hunter inclines his head and straightens at my side, prepared to stand by me at my word. I like that he trusts in me so freely and doesn’t try to argue. He just waits patiently, supportively.

I look back to Ginger, who looks as happy as a clam. She thinks she’s going to win. Hunter must be a really horrible player. I wonder why he agreed to play then if he was just going to embarrass himself?

“Great. And what shall we wager?” she asks, twisting the cue stick between her fingers rolling the smooth wood back and forth.

Normally I would wager money, but that doesn’t seem appropriate. So, I look to Hunter for assistance. He’s beaming at his sister with malicious glee.

“If we win, I don’t change the oil in your car anymore. Or the coolant or anything else for that matter. You have to take it to the auto shop like a normal person or do it yourself.”

Ginger’s smile falls, and she glowers at her brother, her eyes squinting dangerously in his direction. That doesn’t seem like a big deal to me, but from the look on her face there’s something else to it that I’m not getting.

“And if I win,” she begins, keeping her fiery gaze locked on Hunter. “You have to sing karaoke. Song of my choice.”

My body goes rigid, and my heart sinks to the pit of my stomach.

I told her I didn’t want to sing.

“Both of us?” I ask shakily.

“No. Just him. He never has, and I want to hear his lovely singing voice.”

My racing heart eases back into a normal rhythm, and I breathe a sigh of relief. Even if we lose—which we won’t—it will only be Hunter on stage. I can live with that.

“Agreed.” Hunter reaches out a hand and shakes Ginger’s; Becca and I watch on as the siblings have a silent stare-off, notsure if they even remember we’re still here. This seems to have become something between them, and that’s fine with me. I’m just here to have a little fun with new friends, that’s all.

We all take up our positions, and Ginger waves to the racked balls on the table.

“Age before beauty.”

Hunter snickers and shakes his head, turning those baby blues on me. They’re lighter, softer than when he was standing off with his sister.

“Would you like to do the honors? As I said, I’m not the best.”

One side of my lips curls up, and I internally apologize in advance to Ginger because she is not prepared for what’s about to happen. I may be horrible at cooking, but years spent hiding out in my house with no one to keep me company and too much time on my hands gave me ample opportunity to perfect my billiards skills.

“I would love to.”

Hunter steps out of the way and leans back against the wall nearby behind me. I ignore his watchful gaze and instead focus on Ginger and Becca on the opposite side of the table, waiting patiently to see what happens.

Lining up my shot, I get the cue ball right where I want it, sliding the stick through my fingers until I know I have the right amount of speed and strength. I snap the point of the stick against the white polished cue ball, and it spurs into action. Rolling across the green felt it smacks into the other balls with a loud crack.

The balls scatter wide, and two sink into pockets right away. Stripes.

“Holy shit.” I hear Hunter's stunned surprise behind me, but I watch as realization washes over Ginger’s face. Her snarky arrogance and smug smile vanish in mere seconds.

I line up my next shot and sink one more ball before I scratch, and it’s their turn. A deep, throaty chuckle tickles my spine as I go to stand by Hunter.

“You’re a freaking shark,” Becca blurts, laughing lightly, not nearly as upset about it as Ginger.