Page 17 of Double Pucked

Chase doesn’t wear a tie.

I can’t decide which look I like better—tie or no tie. “All right, you’re gonna want to hit the purple ball,” Ryker says decisively.

“Easy enough,” I say dryly, because of course it’s not. I haven’t played much but I know pool is ridiculously hard. I’m determined to knock at least one ball innotby accident.

Which means I need a little help.

“You can do it,” Chase says brightly, then comes around the table, moving next to me, his pool cue in one hand. “Let me show you.” He nods across the table to his rival.

“Ryker, you want to take pics for her socials?”

Ryker nods and tilts his phone in the air. “On it.”

“Then it’s showtime.” Setting down the stick, Chase unbuttons the cuffs of his shirt, taking his time rolling up his right sleeve, and revealing his strong forearm.

Then the other.

Mmm.

Wait, did I just purr?

I think I did.

Evidently, I’m learning all sorts of things about myself tonight. Namely, that I like thighs and forearms, as well as grumps and cocky charmers.

Speaking of, Chase moves behind me. He’s not touching me.Yet. But his broad chest is mere inches from my back. His breath is dangerously close to my ear. His scent swirls past my nose.

He smells like the ocean, like I noticed before the game. It’s a little stronger now though, probably from his post-game shower.

Ohh.

Hello, shower images.

My breath catches as I picture him under the stream of water.

Or is my breath catching from him moving a little closer? “First you need to line up the stick,” he says in his smooth, deep voice that sends sparks down my spine.

I swallow, maybe to cover up the tingles. “Okay.” I lift the pool cue in my right hand and slide it back, the end of it brushing over my left hand, splayed on the felt.

He inches closer, then wraps an arm around me. I’m caged in by this big man. I look down at our hands, Chase’s coming around to adjust the cue. His hands are so much bigger than mine, and I’m flying ten steps ahead, picturing his hands on my arms, my waist, my legs.

I need to concentrate. Chase and Ryker aren’t here to seduce me. They’re here to help me get even.

A cause I hardly care about anymore.

I should try to care, so I lift my face, only to find Ryker’s watching us from across the table, his eyes gleaming darkly. His camera’s still pointed at Chase and me, but he doesn’t look at the screen—it’s like he can’t stop staring at the action in front of him. Perhaps he’s jealous. Or restrained. Maybe he’s holding back.

But what? What’s he holding back?

I don’t know. I can barely focus even as Chase whispers more instructions in my ear. How to hold the stick, how to slide it back, how to hit the ball.

I can’t think because he’s so close to me, and Ryker is so intent on watchingus, and my thoughts are racing wildly out of control. Maybe Ryker will come help too. Maybe he’ll give me a tip. God, did all my feminism just fly out the door? Since suddenly I want two big men to teach me how to play a bar game, when dammit, I can learn on my own. I mean, there are books.In my store. And YouTube tutorials. And…

And…

And I still want them both toshow mehow to play.

Get it together, girl.

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