Page 35 of The Waiter at Table 6

“Just that the eight ball has to go in the middle. Do you want to try breaking? Or should I start and make it easier?”

“You can go,” I answer. Partly because I don’t want to mess it up, but mostly because I want to watch him.

Sure enough, the second he leans down to line up his shot, and his muscles ripple under his t-shirt, I become so mesmerized I can’t even remember what game we’re playing. The clack of the balls hitting is the sound that jars me from my thoughts.

I guess one of the balls went in a pocket, because he says, “Looks like I’m stripes.”

He lines up another shot, and once again, I get lost in the sight of him.

But then his shot misses, and when he straightens, there’s a small frown on his face. It’s aimed at the game, obviously, but now I’m remembering the mood he showed up in.

And I want to give him the same support he’s shown me. So instead of taking my own turn, I lean on my pool stick and ask, “Do you want to tell me about your day, too?”

Shaking his head, he says, “Nah, it’s okay. I don’t want to bore you with it.”

Except, I’m not taking the bait. I hold his gaze as I say, “You can, you know. Bore me with it.” My voice softens as I add, “I like hearing you talk about yourself.”

That makes a heavy exhale rush from his lungs. One hand lifts to rub the back of his neck in discomfort. “It’s just stupid distributor mix-up stuff. Nothing big; it just made for a difficult day.”

I nod in understanding, even though I absolutely do not understand that kind of problem. “Does that happen a lot at the restaurant?”

“Thankfully, no. This one was just annoying because it’s the first shipment that came in entirely under my watch.” He hesitates, then adds in a shame-tinged voice, “Kinda made me feel like a failure.”

“Well, that is definitely not true,” I correct immediately. “I doubt any of the previous owners in your family had a perfect first day. And besides—” I quirk a knowing eyebrow in his direction— “I’ll bet you had it all fixed by the end of the day. Am I wrong?”

A sheepish grin pulls at his lips. “It took some maneuvering and a few scoldings, but…yeah, I fixed it.”

Nodding, I step closer, my hand finding his arm in a quick, reassuring touch. His skin is warm, goosebumps pebbling beneath my touch. “See? Capable. You’ll figure it out.”

When I step away, I sense Ryder watching me curiously, but I just take a sip of my beer, ignoring the fluttering in my stomach as I line up for a shot of my own. I manage to hit the ball I’m aiming for, but it doesn’t go where I want it to. I straighten with a sigh.

“Try to breathe through it and follow through,” Ryder suggests. “Slow and steady.” Leaning down, he lines up his own shot and slowly slides the pool stick through his finger a few times. When he eventually hits the ball, it’s still gentle, but it propels the ball enough to go right up to the pocket he was aiming for. It bounces off the edge, but it ends pretty close. When he straightens, he gives me a look that says, now you try.

I’m only half-focused on trying when I lean over to line up the pool stick. The bigger part of me is curious to see what Ryder does if I mess up again.

And when I scratch the table and Ryder comes around to stand behind me, I have my answer.

There’s a slight quiver in his voice when he asks, “May I?”

I barely dare to breathe as I nod in response.

A pause, and then I feel the heat of his body against my back. By the time one hand settles against mine that’s resting on the pool table, and the other goes to my waist, I know I’m not breathing.

“Slow,” he murmurs, his breath brushing like the sweet ocean air over my skin.

The hand on my waist goes momentarily to the pool stick, and I feel him slide it back and forth through my braced finger.

The sensation reminds me so much of fucking that my pussy clenches at the erotic thought.

“Slow,” Ryder says again. And this time, I can feel his rapid heartbeat against my back, can hear the breathlessness in his voice. He’s just as affected by this as I am. When his hand goes back to my waist, I think I feel the faintest trembling.

Forcing myself to suck in a breath, I savor the moment for one more second, and then…I exhale and hit the pool ball.

The ball I was aiming for rolls easily into the pocket.

And even though I was probably half a second away from flattening my back against Ryder’s chest and hoping like hell he still wants me, I find myself grinning with excitement.

Ryder is the one who moves away first. He straightens and takes a step back, a low chuckle rumbling from his chest. “See? You’re a natural. Shocker.”

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