Page 13 of Wild in the Woods
Fox worked his jaw to the side, his eyes narrowing.
Lulu downed some of her drink, feeling an immediate rush, and leaned down for another shot. Oh, confidence was a wonderful thing! She assessed the table as if she knew what she was doing. Fake it until you make it was on full display. Maybe he’d get a bit rattled by her skill and loosen up a little. Lining up her next shot, she glanced over her shoulder at him.
“So, tell me. Is Fox your real name?”
Maybe she was seeing things, but she thought he was just staring at her ass.
“Yep.”
Lulu snorted a little. Oh yes, the alcohol had rooted deep. “Like the animal?”
Oof, the booze was hitting her brain much faster than expected. Two Moscow mules was normally her limit. At last count she was up to four.
He eyed her coolly. "Yep."
"Who names their kid Fox?"
Oh, to be able to sober up and hold her tongue. She’d lost her professionalism after the second or third drink. Somewhere in there. She was supposed to be encouraging him to give her an interview, not insult him. Oh well, it was a little late for that. She moved in for her shot.
"My mom, Bunny."
The cue went sideways, the tip skidding off the table. It ticked a ball on the way and moved it a fraction of an inch.
He looked proud of himself as one corner of his mouth pulled up. He did that on purpose! She squared off with him, giving him her best accusatory look, but her cheeks were a little numb and she wasn’t sure if she was scowling or smiling.
He gave a faux sigh of sympathy. “Ah, you missed. My turn.”
Dragging his gaze from her, Fox bent low over the table and angled his stick. "Now I might be mistaken, but I’m pretty sure someone told me your name is Lulu.”
Oh, here we go. Her cheeks heated again.
"Well, it's not... I mean, yes, but it's a family..."
His turn to snort-laugh. "Who the hell names their kid Lulu?"
She wilted and cleared her throat. "My mom... Zha-zha..."
Fox missed the shot, his cue clanking against the edge of the pool table. A resounding crack rent the air as the wooden stick broke in two. Her mouth dropped open and the air around them went silent. She glanced at the table, then at his broken stick. He hadn’t made a single successful shot to match hers.
Fox huffed a disbelieving laugh.
“I’m going to need your cue. Incidentally, it’s the last one left in the building.”
Lulu gripped it with both hands and held it against her chest. “What? This? Oh, no, I’m sorry. I was just informed that a person’s cue is personal and once she has one that she likes, she doesn’t give it up.”
The group of men who’d been watching this whole time broke into snickers.
“Looks like you have to scratch, Fox Mitchell, which means that I won. So, what time do you want to show me around tomorrow?”
His jaw was set so hard, she didn’t think he was capable of answering. That’s fine; she was going to let him stew on it for a bit.
“You know what? Hold that thought. I’ll be right back.”
Wanting to fist bump over her success, but holding it in, Lulu set down her pool stick, tossed her hair back and headed toward the ladies’ room. Her boots made a satisfying click, click, click on the hardwood floor as she sauntered through the crowd. She had a mental celebration while she waited her turn, washed her hands, and exited the restroom feeling the full benefit of an endorphin rush. Oh, it will feel so good to rub this in Rudd’s face when she comes home with an interview transcript and exclusive photographs of the elusive wilderness survival guru.
Heading to the pool area in the back, Lulu startled as something grabbed the hem of her skirt. Fingers balled the material, knuckles pressing against the back of her bare thigh. Spinning, she found a man on a barstool fisting her skirt. Hard.
“Where you from, darling?” He looked her up and down. With a wink, he raised his hand, bringing her skirt with it. She slapped his hand.
