Page 4 of His Last Shot
Ah! Rachel. I like it. The name fits.
Rachel flicks her eyes in my direction as I give her a slight nod and wave. But it’s the slight double take she gives me, followed by a subtle uptick on her lips, that makes me smile.
Not missing a beat, she retorts, “You telling me how to do my job again, Tiny?” Tiny (who is just that) only grunts. He must be the crabby one of the group.
She taps the slick lacquered bar. “I’ll be right back, fellas.” She turns, glimpses at me, then reaches for a napkin on the back counter. Her chest rises and falls as if she is preparing herself. I do the same because I know I will not be meeting just another woman.
With bated breath, I observe her approach as her slim waist begs for my hands. She slaps one of her fake smiles, but one thing stands out. A slight gate in her walk. It’s not a limp. But she’s compensating for something in her strides. Is it pain? Or was it an accident?
Suddenly, I want to know everything about this woman I haven’t even met yet.
With a sigh, I push aside all distractions, focusing all my attention on the single piece of information I crave. Her eyes. They are big, round, and—YES!—brown. They lock onto me, bright and swimming with the same attraction coursing through my veins.
I quickly try to regain my composure because now only a shiny new bar separates us.
“What can I get you?” Rachel asks as she sits down the white square napkin. Her fake smile may be bright, but the question came out shaky. She’s nervous.
Yeah, me too.
I flash her my warmest smile. “I’ll just have a club soda with some lime.”
She cocks her head to the side. “Not much of a drinker, huh? Most pool players love their beer.”
Interesting. She was watching me.
“I’m not most pool players. My vice is coffee.”
“Well, we don’t offer coffee,” she volleys back.
“That’s unfortunate.” I lean my elbows on the bar, staring her down.
Her cheeks turn pink under my intense stare with a slight upturn of her lips.
Her lips.
The subtle curve of her top lip, shaped like a perfect little bow, makes them utterly flawless. Her bottom lip is full as they both shine with a pale pink gloss. Gloss that I want to kiss right off.
Geez. Get a hold of yourself, man.
She reaches for a glass and rests it on the napkin. As before, everything happens in slow motion. It’s almost as if my brain is searing this meeting into my memory for all eternity, and all she’s doing is serving me a drink. I gawk as her slender fingers wrap around the soda gun, and clear carbonated liquid rises to the top. Her eyes, wide and bright, flick to meet mine for a fleeting moment. Then, using some tongs, she plucks a lime wedge and plops it in.
She peers around the bar, checking on the other customers, but stays right in front of me. I marinate in the stillness. She redirects her gaze and, in no rush at all, pans slowly up my torso. Arms, chest, shoulders … in that order.
If a single look could do me in, this is it.
She coughs while turning her attention to replacing bottles of liquor on the back wall. “I’m usually pretty good at guessing what my customers drink. I never would have pegged you for a coffee or soda water kinda guy.”
“Oh, yeah.” I raise the glass and take a sip, my gaze locked on her and unwavering.
“Give him your best shot, Rachel!” the third older gentleman hollers out. The outburst jolts me toward the older men, breaking the spine-tingling charged conversation. Each of them is ogling us as if we are their sole means of entertainment for the night. We probably are.
“Cut it out, Randy.” Rachel taps back as she plucks a rag hanging from her back pocket and wipes down the bar that’s obviously already clean.
“You do it with all the other newbies. Why not him?” Randy smirks.
Huh … interesting. Now I’m curious.
I drum my fingers on the bar. “What is it you do with the newbies, Rachel?” I ask with a smile, hoping my dimples are popping out.
