Page 7 of Challenge Me

I got to my feet and walked over to him. “It emptied out fast.”

“Or you were too lost in the music.”

“It’s not the worst I’ve heard.”

He took the headphones and set them on one of the tables. I stared at him, not sure what his plan was, if he even had one.

“You probably need to clean up,” I said.

“It’s mostly done.”

I glanced at the tables, which had already been cleared and wiped clean. All his buzzing around paid off, apparently.

“You play?” he asked as he spun a pool stick.

“I’ve been known to sink a few balls.” I grabbed a stick and weighed it in my hand. “Can you hold your own?”

He snorted. “I own a bar. What do you think I do when it’s slow?”

“Write poetry and pretend to hump the poor pool cues?”

“Well, yes on one count.”

“I knew it.” Wrinkling my nose, I held the stick out. “Should I sanitize this?”

He swung his toward me, forcing me to dodge. Holding mine with both hands, I backed up, then rounded the other side of the table.

“You break,” he said.

I sank two balls and shot him a smug smile.

“Mm, mm, mm,” he hummed after I pocketed another. “Not bad. Not bad at all. Maybe you’ll let me help with your form, though.”

When he came toward me, I held my cue out to keep him back. “Oldest trick in the book, Remi. I don’t think so.”

His eyes were locked on me as I lined up my next shot, and I could barely stay focused. My gaze tried to follow him when he moved, but he ended up behind me. I drew in a breath to re-center myself. It was nearly impossible when I was overwhelmed by his scent.

“Are you from here?” he asked close to my ear.

I hit the ball, clipping the one I wanted to sink. It hit the wall next to the pocket but didn’t go in.

When I turned around, he was only a foot away. I gripped the edge of the table behind me as his dark eyes evaluated me.

“No,” I replied. “Arizona.”

“Sounds hot.” He winked before he moved to the other side of the table to take his shot.

My senses had clearly abandoned me because I followed him. He glanced at me, then expertly struck the ball, managing to pocket two.

“Where are you from?” I asked. “You must be pretty new here.”

“Oh, everywhere and nowhere.”

I laughed until I realized that he wasn’t actually going to give me an answer.

“You never told me why you chose to open a bar,” I reminded him.

He made another shot, then turned to me and rested the end of his pool cue on the floor. “I’m good at it, and working for other people is the worst way to slowly kill yourself.”