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“Oh shut it.” Bonita crossed her arms and pouted.
Garrett walked around to the other side of the table and poked Evan. “Your playing didn’t help either.” Then he casually popped the last ball into the hole in front of Maxwell and straightened up to lean against the cue. “There. Misery over.”
“Ugh, time for more alcohol.” Evan shoved his cue into Garrett’s chest and grabbed Bonita’s elbow.
Bonita rolled her eyes and followed him toward the bar. “Yeah, that’ll make us better.”
Garrett’s cocky grin softened into something pleased as he watched them go, and Maxwell’s curiosity piqued again.
“What is it?” he asked.
Garrett came back around the pool table to Maxwell and leaned on his elbows beside Maxwell’s beer. “They’ve just both had a rough go of it recently. It’s good to see them having a nice time.”
That was Garrett. As much of a healer as Maxwell was in some ways and better in others. Maxwell took a swig of his beer and hopped off his stool. “Will you give me a game?”
Garrett’s eyebrows shot up. “Of pool? I thought you liked darts.”
Maxwell shrugged. “Sebastian likes darts. I don’t really have a preference.”
“Well, in that case.” Garrett passed Evan’s cue over to Maxwell with a mischievous grin spreading across his lips. “I would be happy to play a game that involves you bending over a lot.”
Maxwell’s mouth fell open, and he snatched the cue. Garrett watched him, and Maxwell realized he was assessing, testing, seeing if he’d gone too far. But that grin and those ridiculous words just made an obnoxiously embarrassing giggle bubble up in Maxwell’s chest, and as soon as Garrett heard it, that assessing look disappeared from his eyes.
He passed Maxwell to set up the balls, touching the small of his back lightly.
Maxwell shook his head. “You’re ridiculous.”
Garrett just smiled shamelessly and finished dropping all the balls into the rack. “You know how to play?”
“Why? Do you want to teach me?” Maxwell raised an eyebrow as he worked chalk over the tip of his cue.
“I wouldn’t be opposed to giving you some pointers.” Garrett leaned his hip against the heavy table and took the chalk from Maxwell to apply it to his own cue. Maxwell didn’t pretend not to stare at his hands, and when Garrett continued, he had a touch more husk in his voice. “You know, adjusting your stance, your grip, things like that.”
Maxwell snorted and ducked his head. Not blushing didn’t matter when his body language was so clear, but Maxwell couldn’t be too upset with himself. Flirting with Garrett was…fun. And he never had fun.
Garrett held out the cue ball to him. “I’ll let you make the first move.”
Maxwell plucked the ball from Garrett’s palm, not quite trusting himself to let their skin touch. “How generous of you.”
“I have ulterior motives.” Garrett wandered over to the starting position, leaned against the wall, and crossed his arms with a smirk.
Maxwell barked out a surprised laugh. “Shameless.”
Garrett shrugged a shoulder. “I don’t have anything to be ashamed of.”
Maxwell’s body thrummed as he made his way to the starting position and leaned over the table, his back—and his ass—to Garrett. He glanced over his shoulder to see Garrett watching him and had to refocus his attention back on the cue ball quickly. He wanted to climb Garrett like a tree. He always had, but now he knew exactly how amazing it felt to give in to that desire, and he didn’t know how he was ever going to make it through a whole pool game without begging Garrett to take him somewhere else.
Garrett had said he’d take care of Maxwell whenever he wanted.
Maxwell gave his head a little shake. Focus. He jabbed his cue forward, managing to not splice the ball, and sent the remaining colors scattering with a satisfying clack.
“Not bad.” Garrett touched his back again as he walked around Maxwell to line himself up for a shot. “Still. Pointers available whenever you want them.”
Maxwell rolled his eyes. “I’ll take that under advisement.” He returned to his beer as he watched Garrett sink three balls in quick succession. This was going to be a quick game.
“So.” Garrett’s voice returned to a less sultry register as he straightened up after missing a shot. “You never mentioned you were from Jute.”
“Never came up.” Maxwell took his shot, and the ball bounced wide. A very quick game indeed.
