Page 50 of Blindly Yours

He chuckles and signals for Mary to pass him one.

I start to pull out my credit card, but Nate shakes his head. “It’s all on the house. Rod doesn’t take our money at blizzard parties.”

I cock my head. “How can he be profitable that way?”

Nate shrugs. “He’s not. At least not on nights like this. But it’s a small town. And we all tend to tip really well any other time. This is his way of thanking us.”

After I take a sip of my beer, I observe the room, and I see nothing but smiles. People are happy here. If Rod stepped up his advertising and updated the furnishings a bit… It would have potential. “You know, he could expand. Open a place like this downtown. People would love the small-town atmosphere. He’d make alotof money.”

“Don’t think he cares about that.” Nate checks the score on the TV.

I unwrap my scarf and shrug off my coat. Mary is at my side immediately, taking them from me and hanging them on a hook near the door.

“Burgers are up!” Rod emerges from the kitchen with a plate full of patties and buns.

The children attack first, clearing out a third of the offering, then the adults slowly filter by to pick up their servings. The burgers are greasy and probably outrageously fattening, but tonight, I don’t really care. They’re delicious, and they fit right in with the jovial ambiance of this place.

Soon, the man named Andrew approaches from across the room. “Nate, wanna get in on the next game?” He points at the pool table.

Nate raises a brow. “You’re not tired of losing to me yet?”

Andrew ignores him and looks at me. “Rose?”

I shrink back. “Oh, um…I’m not very good.”

Nate chuckles as he stands. “Oh, come on,Ms. Astor. We’ll go easy on you.” He pulls a pack of Big Red from his pocket and pops a stick in his mouth.

With a groan, I follow him to the table. I came for the burgers and beer, not to embarrass myself on a game I already know I’m bad at.

Andrew racks the balls. “Alright, the game’s Eight Ball. Two teams. Me and Stacey.” He points to a woman at the other end of the table. “And Nate and Rose. Don’t forget to call your pocket on the eight.”

Nate hands me a cue and leans in. “Andrew will break. Whatever he pockets first—a stripe or a solid—determines what his team will be aiming to pocket for the rest of the game. And once a team pockets all of their kind, they go for the eight ball to win.”

I squint at the table. I’ve hit a few balls around at parties before, but never played an actual round. I hate to admit it, but if he hadn’t explained the rules, I’d be completely lost.

“The eight’s the black one,” he murmurs with a smirk.

“Wow…thanks, genius,” I reply sarcastically, picking out a cue stick. I’m notthatdumb. In fact, numbers are my strength.

He laughs as he chalks his. “The only reason I’m helping you is because you’re on my team.”

Andrew breaks and sends two balls into a pocket. He shoots again, pockets a solid, and then misses on the third.

Nate gestures to me, but I tell him he can go first, so he steps up and studies the table. He leans forward and steadies his cue. I can tell just by his posture that he’s good at this. He easily pockets a stripe. And then another. He misses the third.

Stacey sinks two solids, misses the third, and then I’m up. I’ve been watching each of them trying to memorize the correct stance, but I’m still pretty clueless. The eleven looks close to a pocket, so I lean forward and brace my cue on my left hand. I pull it back and slide it poorly into the cue ball, which then completely misses the eleven.

I stand up and eye Nate apologetically. “I told you I was bad.”

He shakes his head, but he doesn’t look mad. “I guess we know who’ll be pulling this team.”

Crossing my arms, I lean against the wall and raise a brow. “Shoulda picked up someone else on the side of the road.”

He chalks his cue again and smirks at me.

That smirk. Junie is right, I’m realizing. He’s hot. I scrunch my nose and try to pretend I’m not allowing myself to admit this, but I’m standing a few paces behind him when he takes his next shot, and my eyes slide down to notice the way his jeans pull so perfectly across his...

I gulp and avert my gaze.

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