What about...sexual? Brook Lynn gave a faux-reluctant nod. “Okay. We’re agreed. One non-illegal favor for every game won. So go ahead. Kick us off.”
What should she ask for? Because this game? In the bag.
Radiating fierce determination, Jase racked and broke the balls. He sank a stripe in the right pocket and then another in the left. But he missed his third shot—thanks to Brook Lynn “accidentally” dropping her new phone and bending down to pick it up.
Now she aimed her cue, choosing the most difficult shot, and met Jase’s gaze. With a grin slowly blooming to megawatt, she sank the ball with expert precision.
He blinked in surprise. And when she did it a second time, he unleashed a stream of curses. Jessie Kay giggled.
“Dude,” Beck said. Clearly fighting a grin, he patted Jessie Kay on the shoulder. “You girls are hard-core.”
As she preened under the attention, West muttered another curse, his eyes never leaving Jessie Kay.
Jase leaned against his cue. “I just got hustled, didn’t I?”
“Prepare to owe me a bunch of favors, Jase Hollister,” Brook Lynn said and sank another shot.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
BROOK LYNN UTTERLY annihilated Jase, showing zero mercy. I’m heartless, and I love it! She didn’t trounce him once, but every single time. He gave up after the sixth game, which was probably a good thing, considering West and Jessie Kay could not stop fighting.
She called one of his shots “pathetic” and he said, “You’ll have to forgive me if I’m not as talented as you are at handling shafts.”
She’d blustered before gritting out, “Did my opinion bother you? Well, you should have heard the things I kept to myself!”
“What’s the difference between what you’re saying and a knife? A knife has a point.”
Finally, Jase led Brook Lynn outside, where the moon glowed romantically and the stars sparkled like diamonds. The perfect setting. The scent of salt water blended with strawberries, roses and magnolias, delighting her further.
She removed her sandals and sat at the edge of the pool then dipped her feet into the warmth of the water. He claimed the spot right next to her, leaving only the slightest of gaps between them, surprising her.
“What is going on with West?” she asked. “Is he always this mean when he drinks?”
He looked uneasy before saying, “It’s a bad time of year for him.”
“And he’s decided to take it out on my sister?”
“Appears so.”
“But why?”
“Who knows? He’s been different with women ever since he lost Tessa.”
Tessa. The one Brook Lynn was planning the GED celebration for. “Lost? As in...she died?”
“Yeah.”
How sad. “He loved her?”
“More than life.”
Well, it wasn’t an excuse for his behavior, but it sure did break her heart. “I think he’s a great guy and all, but I will never be okay with him hating on my sister. And if he does it again, I will get a little Dillon girl revenge.”
Jase gave a mock shudder. “Sounds scary.”
“You have no idea.”
“Let’s forget about those two for the moment.” He pulled a cigar from his pocket, cut off and lit the end then handed it to her. “For you.”
Another item from her list. “Thank you, Mr. Loser.”
“You’re welcome, Miss Con. But I have a feeling you’ll soon be cursing my name.”
“Why? A little smoke can’t be that bad. I didn’t react to West’s cigar.”
She puffed on the cigar—and promptly choked.
Laughing, he stubbed out the cigar and set it aside then handed her a bottle of whiskey. “Any item on the list you check off without me will have to be repeated with me.”
When the taste of ash lingered, she took a shot and wished she’d died. That horrible burn had returned!
“Consider this punishment for the hustle,” Jase said.
As the inside of her chest cooled, she said, “You deserved it. I never lose,” she mocked. “I could have killed you at poker, too.”
He bumped her with his shoulder. She turned toward him, her gaze seeking his in the darkness. He was so close...if he just leaned in a little more...
Someone flipped on the back porch light. Gold suddenly spilled over him, adding a layer of mystery to features already suffused with raw masculinity. As smoke curled around him, creating a dreamlike haze, her need for him redoubled, shivering through her.
“I owe you six favors,” he said, his voice tighter than before. “What is it, exactly, that you’re going to want from me?”
How about...everything? Though, technically, he owed her and Jessie Kay, which made her want to dump the favors ASAP. “Help me get my tattoo, and we’ll call it even.”
He looked her over, his eyelids seeming to grow heavy. “Where are you going to put this tattoo?”
She took another swig of liquid courage before saying, “My shoulder. And neck,” she added. “I want a vine of flowers. Wild strawberries.”
He confiscated the bottle and set it out of her reach. “I’ll take you to a guy who did a few of mine. He’s good.”
“Really good.” She traced her fingertip up his arm, following the lines of several expert etchings. Can’t help myself. Along the way, she encountered two areas of scar tissue, thick and raised, both a few inches long, though not very wide. “You were injured.” Shrapnel?