Page 157 of The Trouble With Bad Boys

His nostrils flare, and I know I’ve got him there. There’s a flicker of intensity in his gaze, one that says he’ll enjoy getting me back for that one later. Likely torturing me until he has me writhing, begging him to put me out of my misery.

“Is that true, Son? You turn into a sore loser, did ya?” His grandpa smirks, and Colter shakes his head.

“Don’t listen to a word she says. That’s how she gets you,” he warns.

After winning two games of spoons and a round of poker, Colter leans back in his chair and crosses his arms over his chest.

“Told ya.” He smirks, nodding toward the table. “I tried tellin’ ya, and that’s why she just whooped our ass for the third time tonight.”

I blow on my nails, buffing them off on my shirt, and shrug. “I’m sorry. I’ll sit out for the rest of the night if it makes you feel better.” I snicker, not even trying to conceal my smile.

My eyes lock on Colter’s, and I don’t miss the way his eyes trail down my body before slowly making their way up to meet mine.

He pushes himself to stand, leaning in close to my ear, and whispers, “Come with me.”

“Where are we going?” I ask under my breath, flicking my gaze around the table. No one’s paying attention to us at this point. They’ve already moved on to their next game of Texas Hold’em.

“Don’t worry about it. Just come with me, Ava. Now.”

Just when I think we’ll slip out the back door undetected, Colter’s grandma calls after him. “Where are you two running off to?” She raises her brows, glancing down at our joined hands.

There’s no mistaking that she’s onto us, but thankfully, Colter is quick on his feet and fires off a response. “I told Ava I’d take her out back and show her around the shop.”

She nods. “Well, don’t be long. I’m gonna cut into the apple pie I made and dish it up soon.”

I didn’t have the heart to tell her I was full. Colter replies with, “Yes, ma’am,” and nods, pulling me out the door with him.

The shop was in a large building on the back of the property. As we walk back there, Colter tells me stories about when he was younger and how he and his cousins would always hang out here. They had four-wheelers, go-carts, dirt bikes, you name it. A never-ending list of ways to keep three boys occupied, along with Wyatt, who I know loved to tag along.

The shop is more of a man cave if I’m being honest. A bar wraps around the back corner with two large-screen TVs. If I’ve learned one thing, it’s that the Vaughn boys take their football seriously.

“You wanna rack ’em up?” Colter says, tugging on my hand. He nods toward the pool table near the middle of the shop.

“You really want to push your luck today?” I tilt my head to the side.

“I’m bound to beat you one of these times.” The look in his eyes shifts, and there’s no mistaking the desire when his voice drops low and says, “I guess I’m feelin’ lucky tonight.”

I suck in a sharp breath and manage to force my feet to move, taking the rack off the wall and begin arranging the balls in the center of the pool table.

I let Colter take the lead this time, and he’s the one to break.

“Solids,” he says, pointing with his pool stick toward the far-right corner pocket before leaning down to line up his shot.

He makes the first three shots before turning it over to me. We exchange a couple of turns until he misses, sending it back to me to try to take the win.

“Nine ball, corner pocket.” I motion with my stick, and Colter nods, his fist tightening on his cue.

I smirk, leaning down to line up my shot and fire it off, watching it bounce against the corner of the pocket and roll into the center of the table.

“Well, well, well…” Colter says, his smirk growing wide.

He makes his next shot before he turns his attention over to me.

“What do I get if I make this shot?” he asks, and I raise my brow.

“The real question is, what do you want?” I tilt my head to the side.

“Let’s be honest. My real gift is having you here.” He sways his stick, once again letting his eyes rake down my body. The heat from his gaze sets my body on fire, warming every inch of my skin. “If I win, though, I want you to bend over the side of this table, and I’m gonna fuck you until we can barely stand.”

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