Page 45 of Outcast
Emory’s teeth dug into his bottom lip. He was obviously skittish.
“He’s not going to say anything,” I assured him. “None of my brothers would.”
Emory nodded once.
“Come on, let’s grab a drink and shoot some pool. That’s what all the guys come here to do. Nothing suspicious about that, right?”
Emory relaxed a fraction. “Right.”
We ordered a couple of beers at the bar and snagged the only open pool table. It was obvious why it was available as we got set up to play. The felt top on this one had seen better days, with a couple of tears that could fuck with a game. Something red had splashed across the middle of the table at some point, and there were drink rings staining the wood around the edge.
“So, how good are you at pool?” I asked.
Emory grimaced. “Not very.”
“You’re not hustling me like my baby brother, are you? Because Bailey just kicked my ass, and I don’t know if my ego can take it from you too.”
He laughed, flicking a glance over at my brothers, where they’d crowded around a table with the tattoo artist from the other night and a couple of guys I didn’t recognize.
Holden handed one a business card. We’d already made the rounds when we first got here for dinner—telling people about the expanding bike business—but Holden didn’t know when to call it a night and relax.
“Aw, the kid beat you?” Emory teased.
I moved around the table, brushing against Emory’s back as I reached for a cue stick. “No, the kid embarrassed me. I’m really glad you got hereafterthat.”
“And yet you’re telling me…” Our eyes met. “Trying to put me at ease?”
“Is it working?”
“A little.”
“Good.” I leaned my stick against the wall and racked the balls, then gestured to Emory. “Go ahead and break.”
He fetched a cue stick, leaned over the table, and lined up the shot. I could tell by his stance that he didn’t do this a lot. My ego was safe from another thrashing.
The long, lean line of his body bent over the table was pretty damn distracting, though.
“How about we make this interesting?” I suggested as he took the shot and sent balls rolling in all directions. Nothing went into a pocket.
“Interesting how?” Emory asked, guarded.
“Well…” I bent and took an easy shot, sending a solid orange into a side pocket, then straightened and moved in close. “How about if I make the next shot, I get another kiss later?”
Emory’s breath caught.
“But only if you’re into it,” I added.
His tongue swiped over his bottom lip. “Yeah, okay. But if you miss…”
I raised my eyebrow.
“Then I get a closer look at your tattoos.”
I leaned back against the pool table. “All of them?”
His gaze darkened as he swept it over me, head to foot and back. “Yeah.” He paused. “But only if you’re into it.”
I chuckled. “Golden boy, there’s not much I wouldn’t be into with you.”
