Page 38 of Always a Bridesmaid
Her arms dropped as he pivoted to face her, the shift leaving her plastered against the front of his body.
“Interesting, hmm…?” Ford perched on the edge of the table and maneuvered the pool stick behind him. Gaze locked onto hers, he took his shot.
And the stupid green-striped ball fell in.
Yeah, she was going to lose. But with him staring at her, a cocky smirk on his face, it felt a lot like winning.
Chapter Seven
While Ford had never held back in a game before, he figured it’d be more fun to watch Violet attempt to catch up than sink the eight ball too early. So he’d purposely botched his last attempt.
The pink tip of her tongue came out as she bent over the table. As she lined up her shot, his pulse thrummed faster and faster.
One tiny bump, and the cue ball knocked into the solid orange ball. It rolled toward the pocket, slowly around the rim…and dropped inside.
Her celebratory booty shake seemed more like a reward than ridicule.
As he leaned against the wall, the exposed brick snagged his shirt and lightly scraped his skin. “Okay, question time.”
Violet circled the table and calculated her angles with the pool stick. “I sunk my shot. Why do you get to do the interrogating?”
“So I don’t get bored waitin’ for my turn.” Not that he’d be bored. Watching her overthink each shot was highly entertaining and made it damn near impossible not to notice her lips. Soft and pillowy, and the idea of kissing them buzzed in the background, an incessant mosquito he wasn’t sure he wanted to swat away.
Focus, McGuire.Addie would ask if he’d made a genuine attempt with Violet. The classic definition of a “full life” might not be in his wheelhouse, but he supposed it wouldn’t kill him to take a stab at a well-rounded one.
“Last week you said you were a photographer but that it was complicated. Explain.” Ford didn’t want to reveal how often he’d thought about her and that comment, but he’d wondered about it too often to let it go.
Violet wrinkled her nose and ran her fingers along the felt edge of the table. “My muse is proving to be difficult as of late. Spectacular photos involve more than simply pointing and shooting. I used tofeelwhen a shot was perfect. That intuition recently disappeared, along with my passion. I came to town to spend time with my sister and niece and to renovate the bakery in hopes I can jumpstart the bitch.”
“If you need a jolt, there are electric paddles in the town ambulance, and I happen to have the keys.” Ford patted his pocket.
“Oh, I bet you’d love to shock me.”
In a different way than she meant, but not altogether untrue. With her so close, he felt as supercharged as a defibrillator himself, and all that crackling energy craved an outlet.
Violet stretched across the table, bestowing him with a glimpse of cleavage. As much as he wanted to linger, he moved aside in an attempt to be respectful—also, if she overshot, the ball would be coming for his crotch.
“Damn it,” she said when she scratched.
Planning on giving her shoulder a squeeze while offering a “good try,” he rounded the table.
Right as she suddenly spun around.
He dodged, but the tip of her stick skimmed his upper chest and left blue chalk across the front of his shirt.
“Oops.” She rubbed at the spot. Every cell in his body pricked up, and his heart went to throwing itself against his rib cage. In order to fully enjoy her touch without having to brace for another hit, he gripped her pool stick. He liked how the top of her head came right to his chin. “At least the blue matches the green grass stains. You might even say I made your shirt look better.”
“Where exactly did you go to college? BS University?”
She laughed, and the happy sound kicked him in the gut. “The University of West Florida is where I got my Bachelor of Arts”—her big brown eyes lifted to his face—“but my minor was in BS.”
Okay, so maybe Addie had been right. He hadn’t had this much fun in a long time. “Explains why you insisted I sink the numbers in order while you can shoot all willy-nilly.”
“Geneva Conventions rules—I still can’t believe you haven’t heard of them before.”
A gentle tug freed her stick from her hand. Ford rested it against the wall and then stalked forward. He gripped Violet’s hips and hauled her onto the edge of the pool table. “If you bring this up in front of my friends, I’ll deny it, but I’m a big fan of the way you play.”
The beauty mark on her cheek punctuated the smile she flashed him—another feature he’d foolishly failed to catalogue. She swung her legs through the air, her ankles brushing either side of his knees. “We’ll see if that holds true when I beat you.”
