Page 32 of A Hard Fit

“I’m not great, but yeah,” Rory said, turning to see what Finn was looking at.

Finn got to his feet, clutching his glass and maybe swaying a bit. He eyed Luka and Thomas, huddled together over at the bar looking cozy as fuck. “I’ve got an idea.” Finn barreled across the pub and threw his arm around Luka.

“We challenge you, Big Bad Wolf!” he bellowed, waving his beer at Thomas.

“We challenge him to what, darling?” Luka asked, a wary eye on the sloshing liquid.

“Pool!” Finn announced. Now he pointed his beer at the new table. “Me and you versus Thomas and Rory! We’ll crush them.”

Luka laughed. “If you say so.” He looked at Thomas, who appeared skeptical. “What do you say, Thomas?”

Thomas frowned. “Probably not a good idea.”

“Why not?” Finn squinted at him. Thomas was a little blurry. And apparently not much fun at all.

“I don’t want to listen to you whining when you lose,” Thomas said, completely straight-faced.

Finn blinked at him then burst out laughing.Oh, yes. I knew I was gonna like him.“Loser buys the next round, pretty boy.”

Thomas’ eyes twinkled. “Deal.”

Finn went to collect Rory and a pitcher, then carefully topped up his glass while Luka racked up the balls.

The call from his mom was a distant memory. Or it would be, soon enough.

“You guys can break,” Finn said to Thomas and Rory, ever the gentleman, even several beers in.

“Go ahead.” Thomas gestured to Rory when the balls were ready.

Rory approached the table much like a deer—timid, lithe, eyes liquid and steps careful.

“Give us a good spread!” Finn called as Rory lined up their shot. The way they bent over, aimed so carefully… Finn tugged on his collar, like one of those cartoon characters releasing a burst of steam.

The triangle of balls exploded and clattered all around the table, but none went in. Rory groaned.

“Excellent work, Rory!” Finn tore his eyes away from their lovely ass. “Open table.” He squeezed his cue and admonished himself to focus, skittering around the table like an idiot. If Rory was a deer, Finn was a baby giraffe, all flapping limbs and knobby knees. “Three, corner pocket,” he decided. He breathed a sigh of relief when he sank it. “We’re solids. Don’t let me down, Moreno.” He picked up his pint and collapsed onto a stool, happy his turn was over and he had managed to look competent.

Luka, however… He lined up his shot, then flinched for absolutely no reason whatsoever, and the cue slipped off his hand and bumped a nearby ball.

“Are you kidding me right now?” Finn asked after a moment of incredulous silence.

“Sorry,” Luka said sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck.

Finn shook his head. “Brutal.” A littletoobrutal. He watched Luka, whose gaze flicked to Thomas, pulse jumping in his throat.Oh. He isgone, Finn decided, smiling into his pint.Head over fucking heels.His gaze danced over to Rory, stomach swirling. Who was more pathetic, him or Luka?

“I guess it’s me,” Thomas rumbled. With the precision of a sniper’s bullet, a striped ball slammed into a pocket.

“Ah, fuck. I picked the wrong partner,” Finn moaned, as if it wasn’t apparent to all of them.

“Mmm,” Thomas agreed.

Luka didn’t even bother to argue.

Thomas and Rory won the game easily.

“All right, all right,” Finn muttered, signaling their server for another pitcher. “Rematch. Get it together, Moreno! You’re breaking. I swear to God…” He took a swig, hoping Luka wouldn’t embarrass himself too badly.

Luka’s break didn’t have much power, but he managed to sink a stripe.

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