Wreck You Page 17

  I listened to her talk about Greece—the things she’d thought were strange and the things she’d enjoyed most—until we were both finished with our meals. After I paid the bill, we headed to my truck.

  “Where to now?” She fastened her seat belt and glanced at me expectedly.

  “How do you feel about playing pool?” I hadn’t played in a long time, and could potentially suck at it, but it was the only thing I could think to do.

  “I’ve only played like once before, but I’m down for trying.”

  Since I was already in Norhurst, I popped my truck into reverse and headed toward Shooters.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  LAUREN

  Walking across the large red tiles that made up the floor of Shooters, I glanced around, hoping none of my friends were here tonight, because I wanted more alone time with Ian. I didn’t see anyone, but I did notice there wasn’t a pool table open either.

  “Wanna grab a seat at the bar and wait for a table to open up?” I stood on the tips of my toes to get closer to his ear, so he could better hear me.

  Ian shook his head, and placed a hand against the small of my back. “We can get something to drink, but I’m gonna attempt to win us a table.”

  My eyes darted toward the two tables. At one, there was a group of plastered guys, falling all over themselves. At the other, there was a serious match going on between two guys who each looked as though their reputations were on the line if they didn’t win.

  “Win a table? How do you plan to do that?” I asked.

  Ian grinned at me. “Easy, by playing.”

  “Confidence. That’s a new look on you,” I teased, but it was also true. Ian struck me as the shy, silent type, but I could get used to this version of him as well. “Are you a pool shark or something?”

  “Something.” He stepped up to the bartender and handed him a twenty. “One Cosmo and a Bud Light.”

  In minutes, we were standing beside the table with the life-or-death game taking place. I assumed Ian would have picked the plastered guys to go up against—they seemed like a win—but no, he went for the diehards. I sipped my Cosmo to hide my grin, and prayed he wouldn’t make himself look like an idiot all for the sake of trying to impress me. I hated it when guys did something to impress me, and then botched it. It always made me embarrassed for them. Not to mention, I found it to be a huge turnoff. If you’re not good at something, admit it. Don’t pretend to be freaking awesome, and then fall on your face.

  One of the guys playing noticed I was standing and stood, motioning for me to take his stool.

  “Thanks.” I smiled.

  “Not a problem.” He grinned. “I’d like for you to have a front-row seat while you watch your boyfriend get spanked by my boy there.”

  Pursing my lips together, I narrowed my eyes at him. He was wearing jeans—ones that were nearly as tight in the legs as a pair I had at home—with the crotch sagging down to his knees, a black cotton T-shirt, sideways cap, and high-top moon shoes. It took everything I had in me to calmly take another sip from my drink, and not let every word I ever thought about guys who dressed like him fly from my lips.

  Ian stepped between us and smiled. He reached for a pool stick that was leaning against the wall and eyed the punk talking to me. “He’s pretty good, then, huh?”

  His words were too mellow—too nerve-riddled. My heart sank. I didn’t want Ian to be some serious badass, but I didn’t want him sounding calm and like a pussy while some guy shit-talked him behind his back either.

  “He just wiped out those two guys,” Punk Boy said, pointing to some guys with their backs to us. “Won himself three hundred in the process, too.”

  “Is that so?” Ian’s words trailed off. He turned to face me, unfazed by Punk Boy’s words, and handed me his beer. “Will you hold this for me?”

  Taking it from him, I skimmed my eyes over the guy he was going against as he stepped up to rack the balls. Nothing about him screamed he was good at pool. In fact, he was dressed in duds similar to his punk friend’s. Still, he’d just won three hundred dollars playing. That counted for something.

  I took a large swig of my drink. Maybe if I drank more, I wouldn’t feel so turned off when Ian got schooled by this guy. Ian swiped a cube of blue chalk off the pool table and grinned wider.

  “You wanna break?” asked the guy Ian was playing against.

  “Sure.” Ian set the chalk down and leaned over the table, bracing the stick between the fingers of his left hand.

  From where I sat, I had the perfect view of his ass. Maybe this wouldn’t be such a turnoff after all—since I had alcohol and a good distraction.

  “I haven’t played in a while, so I might be a little rusty,” Ian muttered.

  “I’ll take it easy on you, then,” the guy said with a smug smile.

  Ian pulled back and wacked the cue ball with such oomph, the balls scattered across the table, three of them sinking into pockets.

  “Beginner’s luck.” Ian chuckled. It was an embarrassed chuckle, one that seemed sweet and sensitive to me. However, when he lifted his eyes to meet mine as he rounded the table, I noticed they were anything but. Shining fluorescent green under the lights, they were wild with excitement. My insides tingled as I realized this—Ian had some bad boy buried deep inside, something I found to be incredibly sexy.

  “Okay. Okay.” The guy he was against nodded and rubbed at his chin, taking in what had happened.

  Ian made his way around the table until he was directly across from me. He leaned down and situated himself again. I watched as he licked his lips and focused his eyes on the ball in front of him. The cue ball sped across the felt-topped table and smacked into the ball he’d been aiming for, sinking it into the corner pocket. Not only was I amazed by the shot, but holy hell, he looked hot doing it!

  Sipping my Cosmo, I crossed my legs as my lips twisted into a grin. Ian had played before. He knew what he was doing; that shot had proved it. I realized that had been what I’d spotted reflected in his eyes. Watching him as he rounded the table to make his next shot, I licked my lips and zeroed in on him intensely.

  “Off the rail and in the corner,” Ian said. He motioned with the end of his stick, and then steadied himself again.

  The cue ball slammed into the rail and nailed the exact ball Ian had intended, sinking it into the pocket he’d aimed for. My mouth dropped open. I had no idea a person could do that. It was all sharp angles and a crazy spin on the ball. I was amazed.

  “Nice English, man,” commented the guy he was playing against. His smug smile had fallen; he’d figured out Ian could play too. “You said you might be a little rusty, but I don’t think so.”

  Ian shook his head and grinned. “It’s been a while, but I guess it’s sort of like riding a bike.”

  “Looks like,” the guy said.

  A sense of satisfaction surged through me. I was proud of him. I was glad he was showing this guy how it was done.

  Ian lined up for his next shot, and I zeroed in on his expression. His eyes were hard and intense. Calling out the crazy shot he was attempting to land this time, he wet his lips and popped the cue ball with the right amount of force. He hit his target, but didn’t land the right ball.

  “That was a nice try, man,” said the punk friend in tight pants. At least he sounded genuine and had lost the asshole tone from earlier.

  Ian strode over to where I sat and reached for his beer. There was a flash of liveliness flickering behind his eyes. He was enjoying this immensely.

  “You’re really good.” I beamed. “And here I thought you’d hardly ever played and were about to make a fool out of yourself.”

  “You thought that, did you?” He turned and faced the table, watching the guy he was playing line up for a shot. “Did I prove you wrong?”

  “Oh yes, and you looked damn good doing it, too,” I confessed.

  A throaty chuckle rumbled from him. “I’m glad.”

  For the remainder of the game, I sat
on the edge of my seat, watching. In just a few more shots, Ian schooled the guy I’d thought would school him, and won us the table.

  “How about we have a rematch?” the guy he’d beaten asked. “Maybe this time we can play for a hundred?”

  Ian shook his head. “I don’t think so.”

  “Oh, come on. Now that I know you’re pretty damn good, it would be a challenge,” the guy pressed.

  “You should have realized I was pretty damn good once I broke.” The words fell from Ian’s mouth in such an indifferent way. “I played to win the table and that was it. Now it’s me and my girl’s time to play.”

  My body shivered the second I heard the words “my girl” slip from his lips. Was this how he thought of me, or was it all for show? Either way, I enjoyed the sound of it. Finishing off the remainder of my Cosmo, I stood to find a pool stick short enough for me.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  IAN

  Every muscle in my body trembled as relief I hadn’t made a fool of myself rushed through my system. It had been a long-ass time since I’d played pool, and I was ecstatic that I still had it. Now, if only this guy would leave me the hell alone so I could enjoy the remaining time I had with Lauren tonight.

  Squatting down, I gathered the balls from the cubby beneath the table, while watching Lauren search for a stick. An image of how into the game she’d seemed earlier settled front and center in my mind—the look of pure astonishment etched into the features of her face. Glancing at her once more, I watched as she pulled a stick from the rack on the wall and held it up to her. It slipped out of her hand, and she bent at the waist to scoop it up from the floor, giving me the full view of her perfect ass in those shorts she had on. Taking in a deep breath, I fought to pull my eyes from her and back to what I was supposed to be doing.

  “Two hundred,” the guy I’d beaten said, still trying to persuade me into a rematch. “There aren’t many here who challenge me. It would be an intense game, dude.”

  Shaking my head, I continued racking the balls the way they should be. “No can do. I already told you, I only played you to win the table. Now that I have, I think you should move on.”

  He stood there for a moment, eyeing me. His stare bored holes into me as it trailed along my face. Scratching at my eyebrow, I silently hoped he would walk away, because I didn’t want to create a scene. I knew his type, though. His ego was bruised, and he hated to look weak in front of his buddies. If he didn’t walk away soon, then he would be leaving the bar with more than just a bruised ego tonight. I could guarantee that.

  Lauren sauntered to where I stood, and the guy finally decided to take a hike. His groupie in tight jeans with the crotch sagging to his ankles trailed behind him.

  “Do you wanna break?” I asked Lauren, not wanting to give the douche another thought.

  Her nose scrunched up in a cute little way, and she shook her head no. “I think you’d be better at it.”

  “I didn’t ask who would be better at it. I asked if you wanted to.” I smiled.

  She arched an eyebrow and tilted her head to the side. “Fine, then I’ll do it.”

  Sashaying around the table, she moved to aim the cue ball at the triangle. Her honey-brown eyes zeroed in on the ball and measured the distance between the two areas as her lips pinched together in concentration. My eyes skimmed down her lips, past the curve of her chin, along the slender neck of hers, and settled at the ample amount of cleavage on display since she’d leaned forward. My pants grew tight, and I sank my teeth into my bottom lip. Good God, this woman was gorgeous.

  “I see where your eyes are, Mr. Mason,” she chided me. I ripped my eyes back up to hers, and cleared my throat. Heat flushed my cheeks. “Don’t look bashful. I didn’t say I minded.” She winked.

  I laughed and crammed my free hand into my front pocket. “Good to know.”

  Lauren nailed the cue ball into the others, but didn’t drop any balls. Smiling, I rounded the corner of the table and dropped two solid-colored balls easily. I missed my third shot on purpose, though, deciding I should take it easy on her.

  The game took us forever, but in the end, Lauren won.

  “You did that on purpose. I want a rematch,” she muttered. “After you buy me another drink.”

  Reaching into my back pocket, I pulled out my wallet and fished out a twenty. “Here, order whatever you want and bring me back a Pepsi, please.”

  She leaned her hip against the table and flashed me a playful expression. “You aren’t going to come with me?”

  “Someone needs to stand guard over this table, or else there won’t be a rematch happening.”

  “Got you.” She snatched the twenty from my fingertips and handed me her stick to hold. “I’ll be right back.”

  I watched her walk away, my second brain throbbing to life in my pants once again. My cell vibrated in my back pocket. Fishing it out, I glanced at the screen, wondering who it could be. My heart hammered in my chest, and my mind filled with worries about whether something had happened to my father again. Brent’s name and number lit my screen. I ignored his call and sent him a quick text.

  Sill on the date, douche ball. I’ll call you later.

  It didn’t take long for him to respond with something smartass-like. I reread his response and smiled.

  It’s after midnight. I just wanted to see if you’d turned back into a pumpkin yet in her eyes…guess you’re still Prince Charming, huh? That’s a good sign.

  Corny, man, even for you.

  Glancing up, I searched the bar for Lauren. She was still waiting for her turn to order. My phone buzzed with another message from Brent.

  Get you some! Hit me up tomorrow.

  Will do.

  I crammed my phone back into my pocket and scanned the bar for Lauren once more. She was still in the same spot, only now she was talking to a girl. A guy I didn’t recognize stepped up toward the two of them. He held a drink in each hand, both of them blue. My jaw tightened as the assumption he’d bought the drinks for them surged through my mind. I watched him hand one to the girl with her back still to me, and then he sipped on the other one. My tense shoulders relaxed, and I inhaled a deep, calming breath. Lauren wasn’t even my girlfriend, and here I was getting territorial on her.

  What the hell?

  Once Lauren finally placed an order, she sauntered back toward me with the couple she’d been talking to following beside her.

  I recognized the girl as one of her friends from the last time we’d gone out. I couldn’t remember her name, but I did remember her admitting point-blank she was the habitually single one of the group and had numerous dildos. The guy I still couldn’t place, though.

  “Hey, you remember Eva, right?” Lauren asked, handing me the Pepsi I’d had her order.

  I nodded. “Yeah.”

  “Hey.” Eva smiled and gave me an awkward wave. Her eyes flicked to the guy beside her, drinking the same blue girly drink as her. “This is Kevin. Kevin, this is Ian.”

  “Hey, how’s it going?” I asked Kevin.

  The guy was dressed in designer jeans made to appear rugged and worn, a tight-fitting collared shirt, and a pair of sandals similar to mine. His hair was gelled to spiky perfection, and his forearms were covered in tattoos. He worked out, I had to give him credit there, but his drink of choice—a fruity girl drink? While my choosing to drink beer might have screamed sloppy, lazy sex to Lauren, I wondered what this guy’s drink meant to her. It couldn’t be anything good.

  “I’m gonna find the restroom real quick. I’ll be right back,” Kevin said. He handed Eva his drink, and winked at her before strutting away.

  Eva leaned her hip against the pool table, and slipped her drink through the little straw. A smirk played at the corners of her lips. “Is he far enough away yet for me to talk shit about him?”

  Lauren peeked around Eva, and nodded. “Yeah, long legs has nearly made it to the bathroom already.”

  Eva sighed. “Ugh, oh my God. Here’s a little piece
of advice for you two. If this thing between you doesn’t work out, never go on a blind date. Never.”

  “A blind date? This is a blind date? Where did you find him, online?” Lauren asked. “Oh my God, if you say online I’m going to die laughing.”

  Taking a sip of my Pepsi, I wondered why a woman as gorgeous as Eva would even have a problem landing a date the normal way in the first place. Then I remembered how long I’d been out of the game and thought differently about the situation. If it hadn’t been for my line of work, I might never have met someone. I’d gotten lucky.

  Eva flashed Lauren a go to hell look. “No. Not online. You know I don’t believe that garbage can actually help anyone meet the right person. People lie on those things left and right.” She took another sip of her drink and glanced over her shoulder. Kevin still hadn’t emerged from the bathroom yet. “Maybe I’ll get lucky, and he’ll think since I found a friend, he doesn’t have to give me a ride home and will just dip out.”

  “Is it really that bad?” Lauren asked. Her eyes flashed with an excitement that made me smile. She shifted her stare my way for a split-second, and shrugged. “What? I wanna know all the juicy details.”

  “Nothing. I’m just now realizing you’re probably the type of person who stalks the Wal-Mart People Facebook page when you need a good laugh,” I said, shaking my head.

  “She totally is! I catch her laughing at that stupid, cruel page while she’s at work sometimes!” Eva gasped. “Damn, you two are like made for each other.”

  “Okay, so what, I like the page. Move on before your buff, blind date comes back.” Lauren waved.

  “Fine.” Eva locked eyes with Lauren. “I did not meet him on a dating website. One of the ladies I work with set me up.”

  “Which is just as bad,” Lauren insisted.

  Keeping my mouth shut, I sipped my soda. This was the type of conversation I’d learned when I was younger never to interrupt. My sisters seemed to have them often, and if I attempted to interject something here or there, they would practically bite my head off and say I was being a typical guy.