Page 27 of I Blame the Club

“That was your first mistake, Maurice. The name Nico Montez causes fear in pool players everywhere.”

Mo lets out another laugh and I all but swoon. This is the most carefree I have ever seen him and to say I am loving it would be an understatement.

“We’ll see about that.”

Chapter 8

Mo

The eight ball sails smoothly into the corner pocket.

“Shall we play another one?” Smirking, I turn to the fuming Latino who just lost his third straight round.

“You broke my streak!” Nico glares at me, his dark eyes glazed and more than a little unfocused. We’ve been drinking at the same rate, but just like the pool game, I came out on top.

If there’s one thing my father did well, it was teaching his children how to be the best.

My smile slips at the thought of Jonathan and the painful car ride home. I don’t get embarrassed, but based on Nico’s reaction, I could tell lesser men would have found the situation embarrassing.

Lesser men?God, I am becoming more like him every day.

A bitter taste fills my mouth and my buzz starts to fade. Taking the cue stick, I walk over to the wall and carefully put it back in place. Closing my eyes, I tune out the bar and take a second to breathe.

“No, no!” Fingers snap in front of my face, “You aren’t allowed to do that.” The words are slurred and the hint of an accent seeps through.

I blink my eyes open, “Do what?”

“Get all serious. You get an ugly line right there.” Nico grins, reaching out to touch the scowl line etched between my brows. His thumb strokes the spot gently, a futile attempt to erase the permanent mark.

“Are you calling me ugly?”

I feel my lips start to twitch, the combination of alcohol and Nico Montez making my emotions run dangerously close to the surface.

He gasps, smacking a hand against his chest loudly, “Mi madre would slap me if she heard such a blatant lie come out of my mouth.”

The smile breaks loose from my lips, “Starting to lose me with the Spanish there, Montez.”

Nico makes a show of looking around before bringing his finger to his lips, “It’s my deepest, darkest secret, Maurice. My grandparents are first generation Canadians.”

Taking in his tanned skin and dark complexion, I shake my head, deadpan, “You’re kidding.”

A finger jabs my chest, “Your kind of funny when you’re drunk. I think I like it.”

His eyes darken as he sways closer to me and I can’t tell if he wants to fuck me or eat me.

Nico’s spicy cologne is close enough to taste, so I don’t think before I lick my lips. His eyes drop to track the movement and I lean in closer.

“Wait. We can’t do this.”

Pausing my trek, I blink at the man who has been eye-fucking me all evening.

“What?”

“We can’t do this.” Nico repeats it slowly and takes a step back.

My eyes narrow, “Not sure we have the same read on the situation here, care to explain?”

Nico’s signature smirk disappears as he takes another step back and runs his hand through his hair.

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