nodded at Hank before he ushered Alice and Merry out the door.
And then Sage was alone in the semi-quiet corner with Hank. “I should be getting home too.”
“Wait a minute.” Hank snagged a pool cue from the rack, eyed it, and put it back. “You’re not reneging on Alice’s promise, are you?”
It took her a moment, but a dim light finally dawned in the back of her mind. He gets to play the winner. “Technically I didn’t win,” she told him despite the curiosity surging inside her. She’d been living with him a week and was no closer to knowing anything of substance about him—except that he loved her cooking, always a plus in a man. Not that she should notice. Or want to know anything else. Still…
Hank shot an exaggerated look around. “You’re the only player left on the field. That makes you the winner.”
Laughter escaped. “I’m also the only player still standing solidly on her feet.”
“Close enough.” There was that teasing grin she couldn’t resist. “Stay awhile.” He turned back to the cues, selecting and eyeing another one as if the request didn’t matter. Her innate sarcasm wanted to offer him a tape measure to help with his selection, but she quashed it in favor of putting him out of his misery.
“Okay.” What would one game hurt? She began racking the balls. “What does the winner of this round get?”
Chapter Six
“What should they get?”
Sage watched him chalk the tip of the cue he’d selected. “Since I’ll be collecting, it should definitely be something I want.”
“Is that right?”
She couldn’t help but grin. “Yep.”
“Okay.”
Despite his not so easy to read face, Hank’s skepticism was obvious—and he was about to make the same mistake most men made; she could see it coming a mile away. Anticipation fizzed in her belly.
His gaze was more than a little indulgent. “How about you break?”
And there it is. She hid her triumph by circling the table to lift the triangle away from the neatly arranged balls. “You got it.”
Calling each move, she proceeded to clear the table. When the cue and eight balls chased each other into the left side pocket last, she propped herself on her cue and lifted an eyebrow at Hank. “Again?”
His eyes were the size of saucers. “You’re a ringer.”
She shrugged. “Maybe.”
There was that laugh again. Sage felt it all the way down to her suddenly wet core.
This crazy attraction will eventually fade, Sage. Just gotta hold out a little while. She hoped, anyway. She refused to risk her newly established future by giving in to temptation with Hank. He was a flirt, that was all. And a rock star. Just the thought of all the groupies his girlfriends had to compete with made her queasy. She had enough self-esteem issues to deal with right now.
Not to mention getting way ahead of herself. Flirt, remember?
“Fine. Again, Ms. Smarty Pants.” Hank’s smile was warm, at ease. Definitely a flirt. “But this time I break.”
She gaped at him. “Chivalry is dead.”
“I’m smart, not dead.”
She shook her head at him, though the laughter escaping sort of ruined the effect. So did the sudden warmth in all the parts of her that noticed him as a man, which was pretty much all of them. When Hank’s back turned, Sage closed her eyes and gave her libido a stern talking to. By the time he missed a shot, she had them open again.
This game lasted more than ten minutes. Hank was good, just not as good as Sage. She’d been playing a long time, since she’d been tall enough to peek over the edge of the table. Her dad had loved pool, and before he’d died when she was fourteen, he’d taught her everything he knew. That and a natural talent meant she beat most of her opponents—except when she held back, as she had with Alice and Merry. Unlike most dates, Hank seemed to take her ability in stride and still have fun. The way he laughed off his mistakes and crowed over her best moves…she liked it. She
And then Sage was alone in the semi-quiet corner with Hank. “I should be getting home too.”
“Wait a minute.” Hank snagged a pool cue from the rack, eyed it, and put it back. “You’re not reneging on Alice’s promise, are you?”
It took her a moment, but a dim light finally dawned in the back of her mind. He gets to play the winner. “Technically I didn’t win,” she told him despite the curiosity surging inside her. She’d been living with him a week and was no closer to knowing anything of substance about him—except that he loved her cooking, always a plus in a man. Not that she should notice. Or want to know anything else. Still…
Hank shot an exaggerated look around. “You’re the only player left on the field. That makes you the winner.”
Laughter escaped. “I’m also the only player still standing solidly on her feet.”
“Close enough.” There was that teasing grin she couldn’t resist. “Stay awhile.” He turned back to the cues, selecting and eyeing another one as if the request didn’t matter. Her innate sarcasm wanted to offer him a tape measure to help with his selection, but she quashed it in favor of putting him out of his misery.
“Okay.” What would one game hurt? She began racking the balls. “What does the winner of this round get?”
Chapter Six
“What should they get?”
Sage watched him chalk the tip of the cue he’d selected. “Since I’ll be collecting, it should definitely be something I want.”
“Is that right?”
She couldn’t help but grin. “Yep.”
“Okay.”
Despite his not so easy to read face, Hank’s skepticism was obvious—and he was about to make the same mistake most men made; she could see it coming a mile away. Anticipation fizzed in her belly.
His gaze was more than a little indulgent. “How about you break?”
And there it is. She hid her triumph by circling the table to lift the triangle away from the neatly arranged balls. “You got it.”
Calling each move, she proceeded to clear the table. When the cue and eight balls chased each other into the left side pocket last, she propped herself on her cue and lifted an eyebrow at Hank. “Again?”
His eyes were the size of saucers. “You’re a ringer.”
She shrugged. “Maybe.”
There was that laugh again. Sage felt it all the way down to her suddenly wet core.
This crazy attraction will eventually fade, Sage. Just gotta hold out a little while. She hoped, anyway. She refused to risk her newly established future by giving in to temptation with Hank. He was a flirt, that was all. And a rock star. Just the thought of all the groupies his girlfriends had to compete with made her queasy. She had enough self-esteem issues to deal with right now.
Not to mention getting way ahead of herself. Flirt, remember?
“Fine. Again, Ms. Smarty Pants.” Hank’s smile was warm, at ease. Definitely a flirt. “But this time I break.”
She gaped at him. “Chivalry is dead.”
“I’m smart, not dead.”
She shook her head at him, though the laughter escaping sort of ruined the effect. So did the sudden warmth in all the parts of her that noticed him as a man, which was pretty much all of them. When Hank’s back turned, Sage closed her eyes and gave her libido a stern talking to. By the time he missed a shot, she had them open again.
This game lasted more than ten minutes. Hank was good, just not as good as Sage. She’d been playing a long time, since she’d been tall enough to peek over the edge of the table. Her dad had loved pool, and before he’d died when she was fourteen, he’d taught her everything he knew. That and a natural talent meant she beat most of her opponents—except when she held back, as she had with Alice and Merry. Unlike most dates, Hank seemed to take her ability in stride and still have fun. The way he laughed off his mistakes and crowed over her best moves…she liked it. She
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