Page 122 of His Last Shot
Rachel
“Well, this feels like old times, huh?” I say, wiping down the sticky bar top. The scent of booze hangs heavy in the air after a busy night while watching Johnny meticulously clean the pool tables.
He glances at me, then quickly averts his gaze as he brushes the green felt. “Yes … um, yeah … it does.” His voice trembles, his reply shaky as he returns to brushing, the words catching in his throat. James Taylor serenades us from the jukebox.
He’s nervous. And Johnny is never nervous.
Weird.
I mean, it’s only a random Wednesday night, so there really is no reason for him to be so tense. I’m only here because Slick had a bartender call off, so he asked me to fill in.
And I can’t say no to Slick.
I don’t do this often, but I have found that the bar has become a place I like to be despite everything, especially now that the whole vibe is different. With Dexter gone, calmness and an air of fun have taken over. Plus, I love to be here on nights when Johnny teaches pool.
God, I love watching him in his element. His face lighting up like a Christmas tree when a student is catching on and making progress is absolutely amazing to witness.
The school has become so popular that we currently have a wait list for people wanting to come and pay for lessons from the great Johnny Givens. He talks about hiring another instructor, but truthfully, he likes to do it himself.
The OBGs have even started taking lessons. Slick is decent, Randy is terrible, and surprisingly enough, Tiny is really, really good. Which makes Monday nights my favorite. That’s the OBGs lesson night, as we like to call it. But it’s seriously more like a party.
Laura and Scott come in on Mondays from time to time as well. Mallory is dating now, so she is busy with her boyfriend, Caleb, which frees up time for them. And Laura has quickly become my best girlfriend. She is incredible.
Thinking about them all, I realize these people, with their unique quirks and strengths, are my family now. They have meant more to me than anything else.
Finally, I have the family I have always wanted.
And the man currently cleaning pool tables just fifty feet away from me. Well, he is my whole world; everything I hold dear revolves around him.
I hang my apron and walk over to my gorgeous hunk, who hasn’t been himself all day. I’ve asked him repeatedly if he’s okay, and he reassures me every time that he is.
But I know better.
As I approach him, I watch him vigorously brush the table like he’s mad at it, his jaw tight. The bristles scrape loudly against the felt, so I stroke his back. “Hey, hey, slow down. You are going to rub a hole right in that felt if you aren’t careful.”
He stops and lowers his head while letting out a long, drawn-out sigh. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”
Wrapping my arms around his waist, I lean forward, resting my chin on his back. “Are you sure you’re okay? I know I’ve asked you a million times, but…” The question lingers in the air.
With a flick of his wrist, he throws the brush onto the table, and it lands with a soft thud. He turns to me, his calloused hands gently resting on the curve of my hips. “I’ve never been better.”
“Good,” I reply against his mouth as he kisses me.
The kiss lingers far longer than planned, and I half expect him to lift me up and onto the table. Which is where I normally end up on nights like this.
I’m mildly disappointed when he breaks the kiss as I moan in frustration. With a determined stride, he walks backward, scanning the path behind him. “Hey, can you do me a favor and round up the balls for me from this table so that I can put them away?”
I give him the poutiest of pouty faces. “Sure.”
He chuckles and points toward the table. “Start at the far corner pocket.”
Weird, but okay.
It’s on the opposite end, but I do as he asks. Reaching my hand into the pocket, I expect the smooth, cool surface of the pool balls, but something soft grazes my fingertips. I peer into the pocket and gasp.
A small black velvet box rests on top of the four, twelve, and eight balls.
With a shaking hand, I reach in, my heart pounding, and pull it out, not wanting to look because I know what is about to happen.
