Page 51 of Blindly Yours

“So, your car is still stuck?” Andrew asks as Stacey takes her turn.

“Yeah,” Nate replies for me as he stands. “Just off county road eight. Almost in the ditch.”

Andrew shakes his head. “Glad you’re ok. What do you drive?”

“A Lexus LS,” I reply proudly.

Andrew cringes. “Yeah, you were bound for trouble then. On these roads in the snow, you’re not getting anywhere without a truck.”

“Well, I don’t spend much time out onthese roads,” I almost snap back. I don’t know why I’m suddenly on edge. Maybe because I’m still thinking about Nate’s ass and it’s throwing me off balance.

When it’s my turn again, I step forward and study the table. I know I’m going to miss again, but I attempt to look like I’m trying.

Nate clears his throat. “I’d go for the fourteen if I were you.”

I take his advice and circle the table to get the right angle, then I lean forward and rest the cue on my hand, but it doesn’t feel natural at all.

“Make a bridge with your hand,” Nate suggests.

I try, but the stick rolls off my fingers.

“Steady it with your thumb.”

Again, I fail, so with a sigh, I stand back up and slump my shoulders. “You guys make it look so easy.”

Nate’s leaning against the wall biting his lip. He studies me for a moment before speaking. “Want me to show you?”

I raise a brow. “If you think it’ll help.”

He pushes away from the wall and leaves his stick behind, then comes to stand next to me and points his arm at the table. “See, you want to hit the cue ball at this angle so that it strikes the fourteen on the left. You won’t need to put that much speed on it.”

I shift my angle slightly and lean over the table. “Ok, and how do I hold the stick? Something doesn’t feel right.”

“Like this.” He touches his left hand to mine. It’s large and a little calloused. And again, it’s so warm. I think even if it were below zero outside, he’d still be scorching.

He adjusts my hand until it’s in the correct position, and then steps closer behind me and rests the tips of his fingers on the hand that grips the stick. “You’ll pull back just a little and then slide it smoothly and firmly into the cue ball.”

But I barely hear him, because his chest is now almost fully pressed into my back and his breath tickles the hair on my neck. It’s cinnamon, spice, and heat. I can feel how broad he is against me, and if I turned my head even slightly, I’m sure I’d feel the brush of his beard against my cheek.

“Just take a breath and move the cue as cleanly as you can,” he says, low and quiet next to my ear.

My heart is beating fast and butterflies come to life in my chest, but I don’t know why, because this is Nate. All he’s done since I met him is grumble annoyances or make fun of me, so there’s no reason he should be turning me on right now.

Except, he is.

I swallow, inhale, and take my shot. Somehow, it’s smooth as butter, and the fourteen rolls cleanly into the corner pocket.

“Ayyy!” Andrew cheers.

Nate steps back, and I shove my hand through my hair and turn to the wall, worried I might be flushed.

“Great shot,” Nate says from behind me. “You’ve got another one.”

“Oh, great,” I laugh. “There’s no way I’m doing that twice.” I reluctantly turn around and eye the ten. It’s already lined up with the corner pocket. An easy shot.

“You got it?” Nate asks.

I nod. But truthfully, I want him to help me again. I want him to press himself firmly into me all night until I’m a pro.

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