Page 20

Chapter 20

Pool Shark

Nora

I pretended to be fascinated by my glass of water while tracking Miles’s progress through the crowd. The noise level in Finnegan’s had reached that perfect Saturday night decibel where you could scream, “I’m pregnant!” and nobody would hear you over the cacophony of clinking glasses, shouting patrons, and whatever nineties rock anthem was blaring from the speakers.

Not that I was tempted to test that theory or anything.

Miles reached the bar where Dominic was doing his best impression of a gargoyle: stony, immovable, and looking like he might bite someone’s head off if approached. From my vantage point at the table, their mouths were moving, but I couldn’t make out a single word. Miles gesticulated with his hands while Dominic maintained his crossed-arm fortress of solitude, jaw clenched so tight I worried he might crack a molar.

“Those two look intense.” Carter moved to a seat closer to me, following my gaze. “Trouble in hockey paradise?”

“Dom’s just... Dom.” I shrugged, trying for nonchalance and probably failing miserably. “He could brood professionally if hockey doesn’t work out.”

Carter chuckled, leaning closer under the guise of being heard over the noise. “So, how’s the whole fake boyfriend thing going? Convincing enough?”

I glanced around nervously, but everyone was distracted by something on Porter’s phone. “Keep your voice down. And yes, it’s fine. Weird, but fine.”

“Weird because it feels fake, or weird because it doesn’t?”

My head snapped toward him. His expression was innocent, but his eyes weren’t, and something about the question made my stomach flip. Before I could formulate a response that wasn’t incriminating, a movement at the bar caught my attention.

Miles had somehow managed the impossible. Dominic stood, tossed back the remainder of his amber liquid with a grimace before he followed Miles back to our table. His eyes found mine instantly, and the intensity in them made my breath catch. I quickly looked away, focusing on the condensation patterns on my glass like they contained the secrets of the universe.

The bench shifted as Miles slid in beside me, his arm casually slipping around my waist in a gesture that was becoming disturbingly normal. His fingers traced abstract patterns against my side, sending little electric pulses through my body. For someone playing pretend, he was alarmingly good at it.

Dominic grunted something that might have been a greeting, then took the recently vacated spot on my other side. Jenkins had abandoned it minutes earlier to pursue a blonde at the bar.

The bench suddenly felt like it had shrunk to the size of a skateboard.

Dominic’s eyes flicked to where Miles’s fingers were drawing lazy circles on my hip, his expression unreadable. But the muscle ticking in his jaw told me he’d noticed. He was radiating heat like a furnace, and I leaned toward him despite my best efforts not to.

The front door swung open, and two women who looked like they’d gotten dressed for a night at a club rather than a sports bar walked in. Both were conventionally gorgeous in that filter-come-to-life way, with strategic cutouts in their clothing revealing enough skin to cause frostbite.

They zeroed in on our table like heat-seeking missiles.

“Let the games begin,” Miles muttered against my ear.

Sure enough, within thirty seconds, the women had maneuvered themselves into the conversation, giggling at things that weren’t funny and finding excuses to touch biceps during otherwise normal interactions.

“I love hockey,” one of the women with mahogany hair announced, even though she clearly didn’t know what a power play was. A fact made obvious minutes into the conversation. “You guys were so amazing tonight.”

I had to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing. The brunette’s friend, a blonde with eyelashes that looked capable of generating wind currents, had positioned herself strategically between Smith and Carter. Smith, who was happily gay and out, seemed amused by her attention. Carter, meanwhile, was politely engaging while maintaining a distance that suggested he was allergic to her perfume cloud.

When Blondie leaned over to whisper something in Carter’s ear, her hand landing on his thigh, he shot me a look of such comic desperation that I nearly snorted my water.

“Hey, Nora.” He stood abruptly, dislodging Blondie’s hand in the process. “How about that game of pool you promised me?”

I hadn’t promised him anything of the sort, but I recognized a rescue mission when I saw one. “Sure, I’m always up for some extra money.”

“Oh, pool!” Blondie perked up. “I’m amazing at pool. My ex said I have natural talent with sticks.”

I bet he did.

Carter’s eyes widened. “Actually, Nora and I have a longstanding rivalry. Very intense, very personal. Right, Nora?”

“Absolutely.” I wiggled out from between Miles and Dominic, immediately missing their body heat. “Life-and-death stuff.”

Miles’s hand lingered on my waist as I stood, his thumb briefly hooking into the belt loop of my pants in a gesture that was oddly possessive. “Don’t let him hustle you; he seems like the type.”

“Hey, I resent that.” Carter put his hands on his hips. “I’m an honest businessman.”

“That’s an oxymoron,” Dominic muttered.

As I took a step away from the table, Miles landed a playful smack on my hip and winked. “Bring that cute ass back soon, babe.”

The casual endearment, combined with the touch, sent a completely inappropriate flash of heat through me. I caught the way Dominic’s knuckles whitened around his glass, the way his eyes tracked the movement of Miles’s hand like he was memorizing the coordinates for later destruction.

Weirdly, the possessiveness coming from both of them made something primal flare in my belly, even as my brain was screaming that this was a disaster in the making.

Carter guided me toward the pool tables with a hand at the small of my back. As we wove through the crowd, I felt the weight of eyes on me and risked a glance back.

Dominic was still watching, his expression dark and unreadable, while Miles was engaged in conversation with Hensley but glancing our way every few seconds.

“So,” Carter said as we reached an empty pool table, “that was subtle.”

“What was?” I began racking the balls, focusing on the task to hide the flush creeping up my neck.

Carter leaned in, lowering his voice. “The way both your hockey boys looked ready to commit murder when I touched you.” He straightened up with a grin. “Though I have to say, if I’m going to die, being dismembered by jealous athletes isn’t the worst way to go.”

I smacked his arm. “They’re not my hockey boys.”

“Tell that to their territorial caveman faces.” Carter selected a cue from the wall rack. “Also, full disclosure: I have no idea how to play pool.”

I blinked at him. “Then why did you suggest it?”

“Because that chick was about three seconds away from her hand going somewhere inappropriate, and you looked like you needed a breather from being the meat in that testosterone sandwich.”

I burst out laughing, the tension of the evening finally finding release. “Under that pretty-boy exterior beats the heart of a true gentleman.”

I glanced back at the table one more time. Miles and Dominic were now talking to each other, heads bent together in serious conversation.

Shaking my head and focusing on the game, I lined up my shot, feeling confident as I broke the rack with a satisfying crack that sent balls scattering across the table. Two solids dropped into pockets, making me smile smugly at Carter.

“That’ll be forty dollars when I finish wiping the floor with you, Campbell.”

“Let’s make it interesting.” Carter twirled his cue like a baton-wielding drum major. “Forty bucks and the loser buys breakfast tomorrow.”

I narrowed my eyes. “Breakfast is rather presumptuous, and I thought you said you didn’t know how to play.”

“Did I?” He blinked with the practiced innocence of a child caught sneaking cookies before dinner. “Must have slipped my mind.”

I lined up my next shot, sinking another solid with embarrassing ease. My third shot missed by millimeters. I stepped back, gesturing dramatically to the table. “Your turn, Pinocchio.”

Carter approached the table with a casualness that instantly set off my internal alarm bells. He leaned over, lining up his shot with precise movements that screamed he’d done this a thousand times.

The bastard proceeded to sink three stripes in rapid succession.

“I’m going to kill you,” I muttered, watching in horror as he circled the table like a shark. “And I’ve watched enough true crime to know exactly how to make it look like an accident.”

He sank another ball. “What was that?” He paused as he started to pass me, leaning in so close that his lips brushed my ear. “All I hear is that you’re spending the night with me tonight.”

“You’re a menace.” I playfully shoved him away.

He lined up for his next shot, and I glanced back toward the team’s table in time to see Dominic down the rest of his drink in one long swallow. He stood up abruptly, muttering something to the guys that made a couple of them frown. Without so much as a glance in my direction, he headed for the door, his broad shoulders cutting through the crowd like an icebreaker through frozen waters.

My stomach did a weird little flip-flop of disappointment.

“And there goes grumpy sperm donor.” Carter stopped beside me, following my gaze to the door.

I smacked his arm. “Carter! Someone could hear you.”

“Not over this acoustic nightmare they’re playing.” He went back to the table and sank two balls in one impressive shot. “But noted. No baby-daddy jokes in public.”

I tried to focus on the game, but my eyes kept drifting to the empty space at the table where Dominic had been. Had he left because of me? Was he angry about Miles and me? Or Carter? Or was I being egotistical in assuming his departure had anything to do with me at all?

“You keep looking at that door like you expect it to answer all of life’s questions.” Carter leaned against the table, studying me. “I’m no psychologist, but that seems significant.”

I was saved from responding when a familiar presence appeared beside me.

“Room for one more?” Miles’s voice was casual, but his body language was anything but as he positioned himself strategically between me and Carter.

“Always room for the fake boyfriend.” Carter’s grin was wolfish.

Miles didn’t take the bait. Instead, he picked up a cue stick and tested its weight. “I figured I should come rescue my girlfriend.”

“I need it. Turns out he’s shark-level good.” I stepped back to give Miles room. “I’m getting destroyed.”

“It’s just a friendly competition.” Carter moved in closer on my other side, leaving me exactly zero space to move. “Though it looks like she’ll be coming home with me to enjoy a nightcap at my place afterward. I’ve got an amazing view of the city.”

I felt the shift in energy immediately, crackling and electric, like the air before a thunderstorm.

Miles stepped in a little closer on my left, his arm brushing mine as he studied the table. He angled his body to subtly shift into my space. It was a silent message that said mine without a single word.

Carter, not to be outdone, casually drifted behind me under the pretense of reaching for his drink. His fingers skimmed the small of my back as he passed, the contact lingering long enough to make my breath catch.

“Your boyfriend’s got that protective act down,” Carter murmured from behind my right shoulder, loud enough for Miles to hear, soft enough to make my pulse trip. “Very convincing.”

“How is anyone supposed to concentrate with your inability to shut your mouth?” Miles looked ready to break his stick over Carter’s head.

“Performance anxiety happens to everyone.” Carter winked at me. “It’s how you recover that counts.”

My cheeks flamed hot. “Are you two going to play pool or compete in the Innuendo Olympics?”

They both looked at me like I’d just issued a challenge.

Miles racked the balls to start a new game, and when he broke, the balls scattered across the table like startled chickens, not a single one finding a pocket. The look of disappointment on his face made me want to pat him on the head and tell him it would be okay.

Carter, of course, couldn’t let the moment pass without commentary.

“Tough break, Captain.” His eyes found mine, lips curving into a smile that spelled trouble. “Looks like Nora will be trying my... cheesecake tonight.”

“Cheesecake?” I raised an eyebrow.

“Mmm.” Carter circled the table like a predator. “It’s rich, creamy... decadent. The kind you have to savor slowly.” His voice dropped an octave. “One... small... bite at a time until your eyes roll back.”

Miles’s cue stick creaked under his grip.

“It’s New York style.” Carter made direct eye contact with me. “Firm on the outside, but when you slide your fork in, it just... yields.”

I nearly choked on air. “Are we still talking about dessert?”

“What else would I be talking about?” Carter’s face was the picture of innocence, but the gleam in his eyes was pure sin. “I can’t wait to watch you... enjoy it.”

Miles stepped between us. “Your shot, Campbell.”

Carter’s smile was pure innocence. “You’re welcome to join, Captain. I think Nora agrees the more the merrier... as I think we all discovered recently.”

My eyes widened. Was he really referencing our threesome right now? In public?

Miles seemed to be having the same thought, his eyes darting around to make sure no one was listening. “That’s... generous of you.”

“I’m a giver.” Carter winked, complete with finger guns that somehow managed to be both dorky and suggestive.

I couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled up. “You’re impossible.”

“Part of my charm.” Carter moved into my space again, his fingers brushing my hip as he reached around me for the chalk. “So what do you say, Coach? You, me, cheesecake... and your fake boyfriend if he’s man enough to tag along?”

I looked between them, suddenly feeling like I was on some bizarro version of The Bachelorette. “I should really get home. Early practice tomorrow and?—”

“I’ll come,” Miles interjected, his voice tight.

Carter’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, and honestly, mine did too.

“Will you now?” Carter recovered quickly, his grin positively feline. “Well, that makes this evening infinitely more interesting.”

Miles crossed his arms, the muscles in his forearms flexing. “Nora shouldn’t be out alone this late.”

“She wouldn’t be alone,” Carter pointed out. “She’d be with me.”

“Exactly my point.”

“Excuse me?” I waved my hand between them. “I’m standing right here.”

They had the grace to look sheepish, though neither backed down.

What was happening here? Miles was jealous, but of what exactly? He knew our relationship was fake. Was this all for show? Or was there something more genuine brewing beneath the surface?

And Carter... Carter was deliberately poking the bear, seeing how far he could push before Miles snapped. The whole dynamic was making my head spin.

“If you two are done measuring whatever it is you’re measuring, I’m getting another water.” I retreated to the bar, needing a moment to collect myself.

Through the crowd, I could see them still standing by the pool table, engaged in what appeared to be a very intense conversation. Miles gestured sharply with one hand while Carter maintained his relaxed posture, though the sharpness in his eyes betrayed that this wasn’t casual banter.

I ordered my water and debated the merits of making a break for the bathroom window. I should go home alone and not complicate this already chaotic situation. But then there was a part of me that still felt the phantom pressure of Miles’s arms around me, remembered exactly how it felt to have Carter inside me, and wondered what Miles’s lips would feel like against mine.

I was a mess.