Page 29 of His Last Shot
His words give me pause. Is he right? Am I sabotaging a possible good thing with my own hang-ups and insecurities? Johnny is a good guy. No, strike that, he is aGREATguy. Hope swells in my chest as I build up enough nerve to ask him out tonight.
Can I do this?
Heavy footfalls come from the hallway beside the bar, and that can only mean one thing: My uncle is leaving for the night. All hopeful thoughts of Johnny get tossed out the window as he makes his approach.
“How were sales tonight, Rachel?” he asks as he swivels a bar stool and sits.
“I haven’t closed out the register yet, but good. We were busy. Word is getting out about that one”—I point to Johnny—“and people want to come and try to beat him.”
He turns, the sharp crack of another pool ball breaking echoes in the otherwise silent bar, to watch Johnny shoot. He observes him land four balls in a row with little effort. “Huh. He’s that good?”
“No one can beat him. Basically, they are just showing up to rack. So yeah, he’s that good.” My uncle’s attempts at conversation are lame. He knows about the gambling that goes on around these tournaments. Gambling that I am sure isn’t one hundred percent legal. Needless to say, Johnny has made him a lot of money these last two months.
My uncle assumes that Micah and I are ignorant to what goes on behind the scenes at this place. Illegal gambling and tax evasion are the two that we know of. Which is another reason I want to go to nursing school and get out of here before it all catches up to him.
And it will catch up to him.
It’s just a matter of time. And I don’t want to be here for the fallout. Whether it’s from the cops or someone he’s wronged, count me out of all of it.
Micah, too.
I need a conversation change because there is no way I want my uncle to figure out that I may or may not have feelings for Johnny.
Okay, fine. I have feelings. Lots and lots of feelings that I need to squash.
Pronto.
I clear my throat as I cover the lime and lemon wedges. “Have you picked up your tux for the wedding yet?” This weekend, my brother and his lovely fiancée, Shelby, will be tying the knot. It’s been a long time coming, and I’m excited.
“Not yet.”
I roll my eyes. “You realize you need to do that by tomorrow, right?” The wedding is in two days, and my uncle is the biggest procrastinator.
He waves me off, not even glancing at me as he studies Johnny. “I will. Don’t worry.”
Johnny unscrews his cue and puts it away, grabbing it, and heading in our direction.
“Crap,” I mutter under my breath. I do not want Johnny anywhere near me when Uncle Dexter is around. I don’t trust my natural reactions to his presence.
My uncle whips his head around. “What?”
Before I know it, Johnny is right in front of me. His enormous, muscular tree trunk legs carried him over here faster than the average person could. He sits his pool case down and leans forward, his forearms resting on the bar, flashing me his famous smile.
God, those stupid dimples!I just want to stick my finger in them, then kiss them.
Okay, Rachel … not now.
He’s wearing his signature dark denim jeans that are tight but not too tight and a gray Henley that hugs his broad shoulders and chest. His hair is styled to perfection as usual, and the way he smells is simply divine. Cedarwood mixed with vanilla. His face is smooth and clean-shaven. There has been no stubble on this man’s face. Ever. And all I want to do is run my fingers over his jaw to know if it’s as velvety smooth as it looks.
It probably is.
I sigh internally. He’s perfect.
“Hey, Rachel.” His deep, smooth voice instantly churns my insides to goo. “Let me know when you want me to start shutting down the tables.”
This catches my uncle’s attention. He immediately sits straighter, his piercing gray eyes pin me in place. His accusatory expression is full of questions I don’t want to answer.
With clenched fists, his attention focuses on the object of my affection. “You’ve been staying to help Rachel close up?” He raises his voice slightly, being dramatic as usual.
