Page 59 of Hooked On Them

Good thing I’d never claimed to be entirely sane.

Chapter20

Pool Shark

Nora

Ipretended to be fascinated by my glass of water while tracking Miles’s progress through the crowd. The noise level in Finnegan’s had reached that perfect Saturday night decibel where you could scream, “I’m pregnant!” and nobody would hear you over the cacophony of clinking glasses, shouting patrons, and whatever nineties rock anthem was blaring from the speakers.

Not that I was tempted to test that theory or anything.

Miles reached the bar where Dominic was doing his best impression of a gargoyle: stony, immovable, and looking like he might bite someone’s head off if approached. From my vantage point at the table, their mouths were moving, but I couldn’t make out a single word. Miles gesticulated with his hands while Dominic maintained his crossed-arm fortress of solitude, jaw clenched so tight I worried he might crack a molar.

“Those two look intense.” Carter moved to a seat closer to me, following my gaze. “Trouble in hockey paradise?”

“Dom’s just... Dom.” I shrugged, trying for nonchalance and probably failing miserably. “He could brood professionally if hockey doesn’t work out.”

Carter chuckled, leaning closer under the guise of being heard over the noise. “So, how’s the whole fake boyfriend thing going? Convincing enough?”

I glanced around nervously, but everyone was distracted by something on Porter’s phone. “Keep your voice down. And yes, it’s fine. Weird, but fine.”

“Weird because it feels fake, or weird because it doesn’t?”

My head snapped toward him. His expression was innocent, but his eyes weren’t, and something about the question made my stomach flip. Before I could formulate a response that wasn’t incriminating, a movement at the bar caught my attention.

Miles had somehow managed the impossible. Dominic stood, tossed back the remainder of his amber liquid with a grimace before he followed Miles back to our table. His eyes found mine instantly, and the intensity in them made my breath catch. I quickly looked away, focusing on the condensation patterns on my glass like they contained the secrets of the universe.

The bench shifted as Miles slid in beside me, his arm casually slipping around my waist in a gesture that was becoming disturbingly normal. His fingers traced abstract patterns against my side, sending little electric pulses through my body. For someone playing pretend, he was alarmingly good at it.

Dominic grunted something that might have been a greeting, then took the recently vacated spot on my other side. Jenkins had abandoned it minutes earlier to pursue a blonde at the bar.

The bench suddenly felt like it had shrunk to the size of a skateboard.

Dominic’s eyes flicked to where Miles’s fingers were drawing lazy circles on my hip, his expression unreadable. But the muscle ticking in his jaw told me he’d noticed. He was radiating heat like a furnace, and I leaned toward him despite my best efforts not to.

The front door swung open, and two women who looked like they’d gotten dressed for a night at a club rather than a sports bar walked in. Both were conventionally gorgeous in that filter-come-to-life way, with strategic cutouts in their clothing revealing enough skin to cause frostbite.

They zeroed in on our table like heat-seeking missiles.

“Let the games begin,” Miles muttered against my ear.

Sure enough, within thirty seconds, the women had maneuvered themselves into the conversation, giggling at things that weren’t funny and finding excuses to touch biceps during otherwise normal interactions.

“I love hockey,” one of the women with mahogany hair announced, even though she clearly didn’t know what a power play was. A fact made obvious minutes into the conversation. “You guys were so amazing tonight.”

I had to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing. The brunette’s friend, a blonde with eyelashes that looked capable of generating wind currents, had positioned herself strategically between Smith and Carter. Smith, who was happily gay and out, seemed amused by her attention. Carter, meanwhile, was politely engaging while maintaining a distance that suggested he was allergic to her perfume cloud.

When Blondie leaned over to whisper something in Carter’s ear, her hand landing on his thigh, he shot me a look of such comic desperation that I nearly snorted my water.

“Hey, Nora.” He stood abruptly, dislodging Blondie’s hand in the process. “How about that game of pool you promised me?”

I hadn’t promised him anything of the sort, but I recognized a rescue mission when I saw one. “Sure, I’m always up for some extra money.”

“Oh, pool!” Blondie perked up. “I’m amazing at pool. My ex said I have natural talent with sticks.”

I bet he did.

Carter’s eyes widened. “Actually, Nora and I have a longstanding rivalry. Very intense, very personal. Right, Nora?”

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