Page 53 of Those Two Words

I make sure the last few people have rides or aren’t walking home alone. When it’s just me left in the bar, I collect the empty glasses and tidy up our mess. Booth offered to stick around, but he has an early shift tomorrow, so I sent him on his way.

Once the glasses are loaded up in the dishwasher, the tables are wiped down, and all the back exits locked up, I head toward the front door, ready to call it a night. I’m about to flip the last light switch when the sound of a door opening and a quiet “Oh” from behind me has me pausing. I turn toward the voice and find Jo standing in the doorway of the ladies’ restroom with a surprised look on her face.

“Everyone left?” she asks.

“Yeah, a while ago. I didn’t know you were still here…wait, have you been in the restroom this whole time?”

“Umm, yeah. Well…great night, thanks for everything. See ya,” she rushes out and steps sideways like a crab toward the front door, keeping her back to the wall.

“Hey, wait, how are you getting home?”

“I was going to walk.”

“Not by yourself. I thought I was going to drive you?”

“No, honestly, I’d rather you didn’t. The fresh air is good for me.” She tries to duck under my arm from where it’s still hovering above the light switch, but I step into her path.

“Jo. What’s going on? Did I do something?”

Her shoulders drop in defeat, and she lets out a loud sigh. “No, you didn’t do anything. Promise you won’t laugh?”

I hold up three fingers. “Scout’s honor.”

Her eyes squint at me in suspicion before she ever so slowly does a one-eighty turn, and the reason for her crustacean-like walk is made clear. I try my best, I really do, but a snort breaks free before I can stop it.

“Patrick! You promised,” she cries and spins to face me, her hands flying backward and slapping against the exposed skin, which only makes me laugh harder.

“Jo, you know I was never in the Scouts. That honor meant jack shit. What did you do?” I attempt to grab her shoulders to turn her around, but she scurries away from me.

“I don’t want to talk about it. Hurry up and do your thing so I can go home and hide away forever.” She covers her face behind her hands and shakes her head.

“It’s really not that bad.”

She drops her hands and gives me a dubious look. “Patrick, you can see my ass cheek.”

I most certainly can.

She has a huge rip in her jeans, from the top of her back pocket to halfway down her thigh. I didn’t acknowledge the sight of her exposed skin, no matter how soft and firm it looked, or the hint of black lace peeking out either.I’m a gentleman.

“Can you imagine if this had happened during my round of pool?”

With that, an idea pops into my head. I’ll take her home, just not yet. I don’t have it in me to say goodbye. Not when this is the first time we’ve been alone since that afternoon in my study.

Reaching behind the bar, I pull out an apron and throw it over to her.

“Problem solved. Now, I think you could do with some pool lessons.”

“What?” Despite her confusion, she ties the apron around her waist backward.

“Your performance tonight was painful to watch.” Painful because of how she was bent over like that. “How can someone be that bad? I swear you played better when you were twenty-three.”

“Oh god, please do not remind me how old I am,” she groans.

“You’ve aged like a fine wine. Your pool skills, on the other hand,” I pause to cringe. “They need some work.”

“Okay, wiseass,” she says and walks toward the felted table. The fact she isn’t putting up a fight to leave is a good sign. I follow behind her, wishing I hadn’t given her the apron as her hips sashay from left to right.

Grabbing two pool cues, I hand one to her. “Atta’ girl. Now, let me show you how to rack the balls.”

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