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"Hey there."
Nothing. He didn't even acknowledge her. Then again, the television was turned up pretty loud, so maybe he hadn't heard her.
"Wyatt, you forgot your clipboard."
He finally turned his head, then frowned. "Calliope. What are you doing in here?"
She slid the clipboard across the bar to him, then smiled at him. "Your clipboard. You left it at the center. Thought you might need it to work up those numbers for me."
He looked at her like he had no idea who she was. Then he gave her a quick nod. "Yeah, right. Thanks."
He used to be so full of life. He'd laugh and his face would light up when he smiled. Her toes curled remembering what he looked like when he smiled.
"You want something to drink?"
She shifted her gaze to the bartender, a heavyset guy with male pattern baldness.
"Oh. Uh. You know, I don't know." She turned to Wyatt. "What should I have?"
Wyatt stared at her. "How should I know?"
"Well, I don't really drink that often, so I'm not the best judge of what's good. What do you suggest?"
Wyatt raised his bottle to his lips. "Beer."
She nodded and looked at the bartender. "I'll have a beer."
The bartender flipped the top off the bottle and slid it to her. She reached into her purse for the money and paid him, leaving an extra dollar for a tip. Then she slid around on the stool to check out what was going on while she took a long swallow of the beer, shuddering at the taste.
Soda would be better, but this would have to do.
She slipped off the barstool and walked over to the pool table to watch the two guys play. She'd never played pool, either, though there'd been a table at her dorm in college.
The cool people played. She'd never been one of the cool people. Now that she was a single adult, she should learn to do cool things instead of always being wrapped up with work.
One of the guys--a burly, halfway decent-looking type wearing jeans and a plaid shirt, shifted his gaze to hers and grinned at her. "Want to take me on, honey?"
"Oh, I've never played before. Can you teach me?"
He took his shot and straightened, grabbed his beer and came over to stand beside her while his partner took a shot. "Honey, I can teach you anything you want to know."
"Great. Then I'd love to learn how to play."
They finished up their game, and the guy--who introduced himself as Joey Johnson--put the balls in the triangular thing. He called it "racking the balls". Once they were all set, he put the white ball in front of them.
"Now we break," he said, leaning forward with the pool cue.
She watched as he shot the white ball toward all the other balls. They scattered, some falling into the holes around the table.
"We'll play simple eight ball," Joey said. "I'm solid, you're stripes. I shoot until I miss. Then it's your turn to get your ball into the pockets."
"Seems simple enough."
Except Joey didn't miss very often. He put four of his balls in one of the pockets before she had a chance.
Of course that meant she'd gotten to watch his technique. It seemed easy enough. She bent over the table and tried to hold her pool cue the same way he did.
She wasn't very coordinated, though, and couldn't quite remember the hand positioning.
Joey laughed. "Here, let me help you."
He aligned his body next to hers, his pelvis shoving up behind her.
She might be naive about pool, but she wasn't dumb about men. Joey was hitting on her in the most basic of ways, and wasn't subtle about it at all.
He could teach her to play pool, but she wouldn't be going home with him tonight.
"Just do it so it's comfortable for you." He put the cue in her hands, showed her the proper positioning. And that wasn't the only positioning he showed her.
Really? Sometimes men were so obvious.
Her gaze drifted over to Wyatt, who had swiveled around on his barstool and glared daggers at them.
He looked upset. At her.
She rolled her eyes.
And sometimes men were just plain dumb.
She straightened, smiled at Joey. "I think I've got the hang of it now, and if you shove your--" she looked down at his crotch, "--assets at me again, I'm going to knee you in the balls. Understood?"
His eyes widened, then he grinned. "Loud and clear."
Now that they had that straight, she took her shot. And amazing thing, the ball fell into the pocket. She let out a loud whoop and the guys around her cheered and high-fived her.
She might yet get the hang of this game.
Wyatt watched Calliope play pool. She wasn't very good at it, but maybe it was an act to gather an entourage of men who were all too eager to help her out.
Within a half hour there were six guys hanging on her. And who wouldn't? She had a great ass, perfect breasts and the kind of hips a man wanted to grab on to and never let go. She looked you straight in the eye and smiled--a lot. And her laugh--damn, her laugh made his balls tighten. Deep and throaty, and she threw her head back and let it go for all she was worth.
Cassandra had always been subtle. She only had to enter a room and the men would come running. And she loved the attention. She barely noticed Wyatt was in the room once the guys swarmed around her.
He guessed the sisters were alike in that respect.
Except after two games, Calliope put the pool cue down, waved goodbye to the guys she'd collected and headed toward him.
She slid back onto the barstool and signaled the bartender.
"Another beer?"
"No, thank you. How about a diet soda?"
She turned to Wyatt. "You don't play pool?"
"I play."
"Why didn't you join us?"
"I don't hang out with the Johnson brothers."
She quirked a brow. "Why not?"
"They're competitors."
She thanked the bartender for the soda and dug into her bag for money.
"I've got this. Add it to my tab, Bill."
"Thanks." She turned back and took a sip from the straw. "So because you and the Johnson brothers compete in business, you can't be friendly?"
"Not with those guys."
"Huh. Why not?"
He turned his head and gave her a look. "Because they're assholes."
She snorted. "Seemed like nice enough guys to me."
"I'm sure you'd think that."
"What does that mean?"
He faced ahead again. "Nothing."
"You're very irritable, Wyatt. Did you have a rough day?"
Calliope--unlike her sister--wasn't subtle at all. "No, I didn't have a rough day. And I'm not irritable. I'd like to be left alone."
"Being alone just makes you lonely. And that's not good for anybody. Is this what you do every night?"
Now he was forced to look at her again. "What?"
"Do you come here every night by yourself?"
Mostly. "Sometimes."
"And do what? Drink alone?"
She had him pegged. He didn't like it. "Why do you care?"
"I've always cared about you. You should get out and have some fun, not sit in this dark place and brood. You're like Heathcliff. Or the Beast from Beauty and the Beast." She laid her hand on his thigh. It made him want to groan. He didn't want to think about her being a woman--and a very attractive, sexy woman, at that. He wanted her to go away.
"Who's Heathcliff? And the Beast? Thanks a lot."
"I told you. Brooding. And really? Heathcliff? Wuthering Heights? Surely you've read that."
"Heard of the book. Never read it."
She leaned an elbow against the bar and put her lips around the straw, sucking up soda. His brain immediately registered lips and suck and there went the quivering in his balls again. She had a great mouth--a full bottom lip made to be tugged on.
Dammit.
He pulled out a couple bills and paid his bar tab, then grabbed his clipboard. "I gotta go."
>
He headed for the door. She followed.
"Yeah, I probably should, too. 6:00 a.m. comes awfully early. Thanks for buying me a drink."
