Page 11 of Cedarwood Cabin

“Excuse me…” I say.

“Oh, she’s British,” he remarks. He looks at his friends with approval as they all surround me and chuckle lowly.

“Let me pass,” I demand, looking up at him. They all tower over me, trying to intimidate me. He studies me briefly and then steps aside with a mocking bow. “After you,” he says.

I walk past them, ignoring his sarcasm, and re-enter the bar. I quickly rush over to my father and Marty who are still setting up the pool game.

“Everything okay?” my father asks, looking up from the table.

“Yeah. Auntie Vicky didn’t answer,” I say, trying to sound nonchalant as I brush off the encounter outside.

Marty hands me a pool cue and asks, “You ready to show us your skills?”

Taking the cue, I force a smile. “Absolutely,” I reply.

After we begin the game, I can’t help but often glance at the Faulkner brothers and their group.

I line up my shot and catch my father's reassuring smile. The song Black Velvet by Alannah Myles plays in the background, adding a sultry atmosphere to the dimly lit bar.

As I take my first shot, the three ball echoes and drops into the corner pocket. I can’t help but smirk as pride fills me.

With a smug face, I look up at my father and Marty. “Well done,” my father says, smiling.

Nancy walks over and starts collecting empty bottles. She nods towards a booth where a group of rough-looking men sit. “See that group in the booth?” she whispers to my father. I perk my ears, eavesdropping while pretending to line up my next shot. My father nods.

“Well, they’re from another motocross team.”

Nancy gathers the last of the bottles. “The teams never see eye to eye.” Her brows furrow with concern as she glances warily at the men. My father’s eyes look over at the men sitting in the booth; a younger, cockier bunch. Then, his eyes shift to the Faulkner brothers.

We continue our game, ignoring the tension between the motocross teams filling the bar.

“Wanna join me outside, Jerry?” Marty asks. “I'm going to smoke.”

My father shakes his head lightly and smirks. “Are you going to be okay, Flora?” he asks, hesitating to leave me inside the bar alone.

“I’ll be fine. Besides, I can work out how I’m going to win.” I giggle.

As my father and Marty make their way to the door, the warm light from the bar spills out into the night, illuminating their figures.

I lean over the pool table and focus on my next shot when I feel a sudden, sharp poke in my side.

Startled, I see the light-haired Faulkner brother leaning over the adjoining pool table, lining up his shot. His pool cue must have jabbed me by accident.

“Shit! Sorry. Did I poke you?” he asks with a smirk. His friend passes by and he hands off the cue.

“It’s okay…” I say, my voice coming out softer than intended. I feel the heat rushing up to my cheeks as they blush.

“Are you Australian?” he asks with a raised eyebrow, clearly intrigued.

“Uhh, British,” I reply. I look up at him, realizing how tall he is. He towers over me, his height imposing as he looks at me with a mixture of curiosity and amusement.

“Nice. I’m Dax Faulkner…by the way,” he replies confidently, extending his hand towards me.

I shake his hand firmly. “Flora Lockley,” I respond. His grip is strong and wielding. I feel a strange flutter in my stomach.

The other, taller Faulkner brother strides over, standing beside Dax. He looks me up and down, evaluating me. My heart races at his presence; his eyes have a certain intensity.

“This is my brother, Lyka. Well, I say brother, but I’m adopted.”

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