Page 37 of Lucifer's Hounds

I take a deep breath, lean down, center the cue ball, then break.

One of each drops, then I miss the shot on the striped ball I shot at first.

“Your shot. Open table, babe.” Cass approaches the table and checks out the spread. He leans down and shoots out all but two stripes.

“You better shoot like a man with one bullet,” he says as I step up to the table. I won’t let him get inside my head. I got this. I so got this. Smiling a bright, unbothered smile at him, I start shooting. Aiming carefully, I take all the necessary shots to line up on my next few shots. When I have only two balls left, I get hung up behind one of Cass’s stripes.

“What you gonna do now, MacGyver?”

“I don’t know yet.” I read the table, analyzing my next shot. I have a hard two-rail bank on the three-ball and I’m not sure I can make it. Talking myself out of it, then back into it, I take the shot. The three-ball teeters in the pocket before dropping.

“Damn good shot!” Cass claps.

I have a straight in shot on the two ball and sink it with ease. Left with only the eight ball, I look up and meet Cass’s eyes. He’s standing beside the table smiling as he watches my every move. He doesn’t think I’m going to make it, or at least that’s what that smug look on his face says. He could be right. I choke shooting the eight, nine times out of ten because of the pressure. It takes two attempts, at a minimum, majority of the time. There’s no way I’m going to make this.

I point to the corner pocket and shoot the eight ball. It sinks directly into the desired pocket. I jump up from the table and squeal. “Yes!”

“Damn it, girl. Great shooting.”

“That’s the first time I’ve ever done that.”

“Done what? Won?” he asks.

I slap him on the arm. “No, thank you very much. That was the first time I’ve ever had an eight-ball run!”

“And it was against me. That’s awesome.” He walks around the table and wraps his arms around my waist.

“Hi,” I say, looking into his gorgeous pair of gray-green eyes.

“Hi.” He smiles so big his eyes are half closed.

“What?” His smile, though amazing, is mischievous.

“Why don’t you grab us a few drinks since I’m the rack boy? I have an idea.”

“What you want to drink, boss man?” I ask, slipping behind the bar.

“Whatever you bring me.”

I fix myself my usual and grab a Dos Equis for Cass. I hand it to him and grab my stick to break.

“What’s this idea you have?” I ask.

“Oh, just wait,” he says, still smiling that up-to-no-good smile.

I break and the cue ball takes to the corner pocket like a magnet. I hand the little white orb over to Cass. “Open table.”

“Lose a piece of clothing,” Cass says.

“Do what?” I stare at him, not sure I understood him.

“You heard me.”

I raise an eyebrow then smirk at him. I slip out of my shoes. “Happy?”

“It’ll work for now. We’re playing strip pool.”

“Oh really? So anytime we scratch, we lose an article of clothing?” I ask, wanting to make sure I’m clear on the rules.

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