Page 28 of His Last Shot
“Do you still talk to her?”Please say no. Please say no.
“No. Not for a long time. I ran into her a couple of years after we broke up at the movies, of all places. She was with a date. A date who is now her husband. They have two kids. So it all worked out in the end.”
“It worked out for her. But you’re still single.”
Not removing his eyes from mine, slowly, he drags our hands up to his mouth and tenderly kisses my knuckles. Once, twice, three times.
I’m melting.
“Thank God for that.”
After a few more, far less serious conversations, we part ways.
And on the ride home, I secretly thank Julie for not being the one.
8
It Could Never Happen, Slick
Rachel
Another month and four truck dates later, I’m still obsessed with the man currently bending over the table to take his final shot. And winning another pool game for my uncle. And getting his team one step closer to the tournament.
How do I know I’m obsessed? Because I can’t stop staring at him in those jeans. It’s pure torture. I’m falling headfirst into a sinkhole I can’t crawl out of.
I avert my ogling … for the hundredth time tonight.
Okay. One more peek.Dear Lord, he’s beautiful.
The bar has died down, with a lot of the tournament guys leaving for the night, which gives me a chance to start my closing duties. With a final stocking of beer for the next day, I close the cooler and immediately find Johnny again. Like I always do. He’s showing another member of his team a few tips and tricks.
Slick follows my line of sight. He swivels back in his chair with a smirk on his face, lets out a low chuckle, and shakes his head.
With his subtle shift in posture and the amusing twitch of his lips, I’m pretty sure I know what’s going through his head. “What’s so funny?”
Sighing wearily, Slick slowly lifts the glass of water to his lips, the ice clinking softly, and takes a long swig. “When are you going to get out of your own head and ask him out?”
I almost drop yet another glass, juggling it in my hands, shocked at his question. “What? Me?” Slick shrugs, with a 'Why not'expression on his face. “Maybe I’m waiting for him to ask me out.”
“Yeah, right.” He lets out a puff of air. “That man is waiting for you to make a move.”
Curiosity gets the better of me as I lean on the bar to get closer to Slick. “How do you know that?”
“He told me that night he drove me home. Which was out of his way, by the way.”
“Out of his way? How?”
He points in Johnny’s direction. “He lives forty-five minutes north of here.”
My jaw drops in surprise. How did I not know that?“Are there no other bars around closer to him that have tables? I mean, why would he drive all this way? He doesn’t even like pool tournaments.”
Slick chortles and stands, throwing three fifties on the bar, even though he’s only been sipping water all night. “Oh, I’m sure there is. But, Rachel, we both know why he drives all the way here to Dexter’s. And if you don’t know, then you’re blind.”
I do know. But still…
I shake his absurd assumption out of my head as I refill the straws and napkin holders. Johnny comes here for me … I know it’s true. But that doesn’t change anything. “It could never happen, Slick. As soon as he found out about me, that would be it. There’s no point even dwelling on it.”
Slick’s old and weathered hand lands on top of mine, stopping it. I drag my gaze to meet his. A stark line etches across his forehead. “Don’t take away his right to choose if that would be a problem. You are deciding for him, and that’s not fair. That man has showed up here almost every night to see you. Sure, he plays incredible pool, but that’s just an excuse, and you know it.” He squeezes my hand. “He could very possibly be exactly what you deserve in your life. Don’t let your insecurities get in the way of a lifetime of happiness.” He gives me a final tap of his hand, grabs his jacket, and walks out the door, leaving me alone with my thoughts.
