by Darcy Burke
Sean looked apologetic but also resolved. “You have to understand the sanctity of the Archer rules. Trust me when I say it's not worth fighting over. Just take your lumps this game and never, ever use that cue again.” He turned to his wife. “Perhaps you all should consider removing it from—”
Before he could finish, Tori put her finger over his lips. “Sacrilege. You know we can’t break the rules.”
His gaze softened. “I know.” Then he kissed the pad of her finger.
She smiled at him and took her hand away, turning toward Crystal. “Maybe you’ll break the curse. But first, we need Scotch. Who’s in?”
“I’m sticking with wine,” Brooke said.
Everyone else raised their hand for whiskey. Tori went to the well-stocked bar to pour, and Sean helped pull down glasses. The Archers had a ton of liquor, two taps, and the massive wine cellar wasn’t far away.
Crystal chalked the end of her cue, feeling disgruntled.
Jamie sidled up beside her, a perfectly pleasant cue in his hand—or so she assumed.
“I suppose your cue is curse-free?” she asked.
“Yep,” he said. “I know better. Sorry about The Humiliator.”
Crystal wondered how it had gotten its name and whether it really deserved it. Maybe it had somehow been maligned. She looked at the cue and said, “Tell you what, Humiliator, let’s switch things up a bit. How about we work together to humiliate everyone else? Then everyone will fight over getting to use you, but the joke will be on them because you’re going to be so amazing that I’m going to steal you for my very own. Deal?”
The cue did not respond, of course, but Crystal felt a thrum beneath her fingertips. Or imagined she did, anyway.
“Did you really just give that cue a pep talk?” Jamie asked.
She finished chalking the end. “I’d rather think of it as a motivational speech in the vein of Braveheart.”
He laughed. “Let’s see if it worked.”
As they gathered drinks, they set the rules: straight pool to fifty points.
“Ladies first, right?” Kelsey asked, batting her eyes at Luke.
Luke laughed. “Nice try. We’ll flip a coin.”
“We usually go by age,” Tori said.
Crystal stood near the bar and sipped her whiskey. “Is that another hard and fast Archer rule?” she asked, rolling her eyes. “Or are we allowed to do things differently?”
Tori shrugged. “It’s not a rule per se…”
“Good, then we’re flipping a coin.” Luke pulled one from his jeans pocket. “Kelsey, call it in the air.”
He tossed it up and Kelsey said, “Tails!”
The quarter landed on the pool table heads up.
Kelsey frowned. “Damn it. Sorry, girls.”
“No worries. We’ll still kick their asses,” Crystal said.
Jamie met her determined gaze. “You can try.” He leaned toward her, his hazel eyes sparking with mischief. “Although, I’ll admit there’s something sexy about a woman threatening to kick my ass in pool,” he murmured so that only she could hear. “Or whatever,” he added with a lazy smile.
Heat flared in Crystal’s gut, surprising her. He wanted to flirt? Oh, she could flirt. And she’d had just the right amount of alcohol to feel loose and…flirty.
“You’re damn right I will kick your ass in whatever.” She blazed a grin at him, the kind she knew made men turn their heads.
His gaze swept over her and didn’t linger on her breasts, which was what typically happened. Too many times to count, she’d been told they were her best physical asset. That Jamie hadn’t focused on them impressed her. Score a point for the youngest Westcott.
“Mind if I go first?” Cam asked, racking the balls.
The guys shook their heads, and Cam prepared to take his first shot.
Rob and Emily Archer came in at that moment and the game was suspended for a few minutes as everyone thanked them for hosting a great party.
“It’s our pleasure,” Emily said, smiling warmly. “We love having so many people in the house—it’s far too big for the two of us. One of these days, we’re going to have to sell it.”
“Stop.” Tori stuck her fingers in her ears. “I refuse to listen to such nonsense.”
Emily chuckled before going to press a kiss to her daughter’s cheek. Tori hugged her fiercely.
“We’re heading to bed,” Rob said. “But stay as long as you like. Emily plans to cook up a great breakfast for anyone sleeping over. There are also a couple of cars outside ready to shuttle you home, if you prefer.”
“Very kind of you, Rob,” Luke said.
“As Emily said, it’s our pleasure. Behave yourselves!” He turned with a laugh.
Emily looked around at them, her eyes sparkling. “What he said. ’Night!”
As they disappeared upstairs, the game started up. Jamie came and sat on the barstool next to where Crystal stood. “How long are you in town?” he asked before taking a drink of Scotch.
“Not sure.” She didn’t always book her return trip when she came for a visit, especially when she was doing research. “I’m researching the building that was excavated at the winery.”
“Right. I admit I don’t know too much about it.”
“It’s pretty interesting, actually. I’m trying to figure out why it became a brothel.”
“Yeah, I’d heard about that. Crazy to think tiny Ribbon Ridge, which was even tinier back then, had a brothel.” He chuckled. “I mean, how many customers could there have been?”
“It seems customers came from all around. A guy at the historical society in Mac is helping me with the research. He found some mentions of it in correspondence and even an advertisement in a newspaper, if you can believe that.”
He pivoted toward her, leaning his elbow on the bar. “Did it have a name?”
“Bird’s Nest Ranch.”
He laughed again. “Not terribly sexy.”
She arched a brow at him. “No, but then neither is ‘Mustang Ranch.’”
He lifted his glass. “Touché.”
“Argh!” Cam’s frustrated growl filled the room and was quickly followed by feminine laughter.
“My turn,” Brooke crowed, blowing her fiancé a kiss.
Cam gave her a disgruntled stare. “I still got twelve points,” he grumbled.
“What else have you learned about Bird’s Nest Ranch?” Jamie asked. He cocked his head to the side. “Hmmm, maybe we should name one of the new vineyard blocks Bird’s Nest Ranch.”
“Or Dorinda,” Crystal said. “She’s the person at the heart of everything. It was her farm before it became a brothel.”
“Didn’t the house burn down around the turn of the century?”
Crystal nodded. “About 1902. I’d love to know the cause of the fire and what happened to the women who worked there. It’s just such an interesting topic, a brothel here in Ribbon Ridge.” The sound of Brooke reracking the balls drew Crystal to look toward the table. “Good job, Brooke!”
Jamie leaned toward her. “What do you plan to do with all this research? Or are you just curious?” His proximity sent a flutter through her, heightening her awareness.
She sipped her Scotch, taking a rather large mouthful, and welcomed the burn as it slid down her throat. “Just curious, I guess.”
Kelsey stepped around the bar. “She’s more than curious. Try obsessed.” She winked at Crystal, who rolled her eyes in response.
“That’s a bit of a stretch,” Crystal said.
Jamie looked at her with…admiration? “I think it’s cool. Intellectual pursuits are always worthy. And satisfying.”
Crystal wasn’t sure this qualified as an “intellectual pursuit,” but she wouldn’t correct him. She kind of liked that description.
“Crap.” Brooke stepped back from the table. “Who’s next?”
“Jamie, you go,” Cam said.
With a nod, Jamie finished his whiskey and set his empty glass down on the bar. He grinn
ed at Crystal. “Wish me luck.”
She laughed. “Hell no. We’re not on the same team. I hope you foul out immediately.”
His answering laughter reignited the heat in her belly, and he made his way to the table. His jeans were the perfect blend of slouchy and fitted, outlining his athletic ass and thighs to great effect.
What the hell?
Crystal looked at her whiskey and decided she’d had too much to drink. Oh well. She took another sip.
Kelsey took Jamie’s vacated stool and leaned toward Crystal. “What was that about?” she whispered.
Crystal turned her head and gave her a brief look. “What?” She knew perfectly well what.
“Jamie. It looked like he was flirting with you.”
“Eh, not really. It probably only seems that way because we’re the only two not paired off.”
“Hmm. Maybe.” Kelsey rested her elbow on the bar. “It was cute, whatever it was.”
Crystal sent her a pointed stare. “That was not an invitation to pair us off.”
Kelsey’s gaze traveled to the table. “Damn it, he’s good.”
Crystal finished her Scotch and deposited her glass on the bar. She moved closer to the table to watch him. He was good. She looked down at the cue in her hand and sent it a telepathic message: Curse someone else for once. Like that guy. Make his next shot go wide.
Crystal watched as Jamie indicated sending the four ball in the corner pocket. It was an easy shot. Come on, Humiliator, she urged, you can do it!
A second later, the ball jumped the edge and dropped to the floor.
Crystal whooped in delight and pressed a quick kiss to her new favorite cue. “That’s my boy,” she said softly.
Jamie turned toward her. “What did you say?”
She shook her head. “Nothing. Tough luck.”
He snorted. “I’ll say. It was like I was using The Humiliator.”
“Speaking of, it’s Crystal’s turn,” Tori said.
Crystal turned the cue in her hand, eager to prove everyone wrong about this poor, misunderstood cue. She knew what it felt like to be the underdog, to know that everyone had written you off as a failure. And that was why she was going to end this ridiculous curse.
She sent the cue another silent message: let’s do this.
2
Jamie watched Crystal approach the pool table. Dressed in a low-cut silk blouse, black ankle pants, and strappy heels, she was the epitome of casual sexy. After studying the table for a moment, she bent at the waist and prepared to make her shot. The curve of her ass was quite enticing. So much so that he nearly forgot to pay attention to her shot—and the spectacle The Humiliator would undoubtedly cause.
Except it didn’t.
Crystal hit the ball, and it went exactly where she said it would. The room grew instantly silent.
“What the hell just happened?” Tori said, breaking the eerie quiet.
Crystal peered over at her and shrugged. Then she moved around the table and called her next shot. Which she sank as effortlessly as the first.
“Wait a minute.” Tori stalked to Crystal with narrowed eyes. “Did you swap out your cue?”
Crystal held up the stick and pointed to the black writing. “Nope, still says manky pillock.”
Tori shook her head. “Unbelievable.”
Sean joined her and studied the cue. “What sorcery is this?” he breathed rather dramatically, which drew a laugh from several of the others.
Crystal gave them both a haughty stare. “Maybe Hugh just needed someone to believe in him.”
“Hugh?” Jamie blurted the name the moment he realized what she’d done. “You’ve given The Humiliator a nickname.”
“I’ve given him his rightful name—Hugh the Humiliator.” She clutched the cue like a weapon as she looked around at everyone. “Prepare to be humiliated. Each and every one of you. You thought you could label him. You sought to marginalize him. But no more. Hugh is ready for revenge.”
Silence reigned for a brief moment before Cam burst into laughter. This started a flood of hilarity as everyone cracked up, Jamie included. He moved closer to where she stood. “You should be a writer,” he said.
“You sound like Alaina,” Crystal muttered. “Prepare to lose,” she told Jamie as she turned back to the table and proceeded to knock every ball into a pocket in rapid succession.
As she went to rerack, everyone in the room seemed to collectively shake their heads.
“This is unprecedented,” Sean said. “Tori, I think you guys have to give that cue to Crystal.”
Tori refilled her glass and held up the bottle of whiskey in silent question. Jamie went to get more. “What I want to know is whether the curse is really broken or if The…excuse me, Hugh, has decided to align with just Crystal.”
“Meaning, if someone else tried, it would go back to being horrible,” Sean said.
“It’s a theory,” Tori said with a shrug.
Crystal finished reracking. “That no one is going to test. Hugh’s mine now.” She broke, immediately sending a ball into the corner pocket. With every subsequent hit, everyone moved closer to the table. Brooke kept score, adding after Crystal sank each ball. As she neared fifty, everyone joined in, and when she claimed victory, the entire room broke into loud cheers.
“All hail The Humiliator!” Cam shouted.
“Hugh.” Crystal corrected, grinning. She held Hugh up over her head, and Cam bowed in deference. She brought the cue down and pressed a kiss to the wood.
Watching her lips pucker sent a shaft of heat to Jamie’s groin. For whatever reason, he was digging Crystal tonight in a way he never had before.
Tori held her glass up in a toast. “To Crystal and Hugh’s amazing victory!”
Jamie went to the bar and poured another whiskey for Crystal, then took it to her. “Cheers.” He tapped his glass against hers.
She lifted the glass and took a hearty drink.
“And with that, I need to call it a night,” Kelsey said, setting her glass on the counter. “I think I’ve had enough.”
Luke set his glass down and put his arm around Kelsey. “Let’s catch a ride upstairs.”
“We’ll come with you,” Brooke said, nodding toward Cam.
The two couples said their good-byes and left. Tori loaded the empty glasses into the dishwasher. “We should get home too,” she said, looking at Sean. “Ian will be up early.” That was their young son.
“You guys leaving?” Sean asked Jamie and Crystal.
Jamie probably should’ve tagged along with Cam and Brooke since he lived across the street from them, but the car would be full. Plus, he wasn’t quite ready to leave. “Nah. All you couples are lightweights.”
Crystal clacked her glass against his again. “Agreed.”
Sean chuckled. “Probably. ’Night.” He and Tori left.
Jamie turned to Crystal and caught her frowning at her glass.
“What’s the matter?” he asked.
“At the risk of sounding like a lightweight, I think I should stop with the whiskey.” She went to the bar and set her glass down.
Jamie followed her and tossed back the rest of his drink before depositing his empty glass on the counter. “Bummer. I’ve still got at least an hour left in me.”
She cast him a sly smile. “I didn’t say I was done. I’m going back to beer.” She reluctantly leaned Hugh against the bar before looking over at Jamie. “Want one?”
“Sure.” He watched as she pulled down a couple of pint glasses and filled them from the tap. “Are you going to sleep with Hugh tonight?”
She laughed, a deep, dusky sound that fired the sexual hunger that had been thrumming in the background of his body all evening. “I might.”
He was suddenly quite jealous of Hugh. “First he gets a kiss, then he gets to share your bed? Lucky pool cue.”
She arched a blonde brow at him as she slid his pint glass over the bar to him. “You’re a flirt.”
“Not typically.
But what can I say, you’ve inspired me.”
She rolled her eyes, smiling. “I don’t buy it for a minute.” She picked up her pint glass and Hugh and went to one of the leather couches where she sank down and sipped her beer. She leveled a knowing stare at him. “I think you are a flirt, and I think you just tell women you aren’t.”
He moved to the couch opposite hers and sat down, propping his feet on the coffee table between them. “Not true. It’s not as if I never flirt, but you make me sound like a player. That’s my brother. Or was until he met Brooke.”
“That’s right.” She set Hugh perpendicular to the floor and spun him in her hand. The erotic images that innocent movement sparked made him shake his head. “So you aren’t a player?” she asked.
He took a healthy drink of beer to clear his mind of lust. “Nah. I don’t have the social skills. Too much of a book nerd.”
She stopped spinning Hugh and leaned him against the couch beside her. “Not me. I always got in trouble for being too social. You’d never hear anyone accuse me of being a book nerd.”
“Never?”
She shook her head before sipping her beer.
“Are you sure?” he asked, thinking that he was feeling particularly flirty. “When you drink after a ‘never’ question it usually means you have.”
Her brows flew up her forehead and her lips curved into a sultry smile. “You mean ‘Never have I ever.’”
He shrugged. “We played it as ‘I never.’”
She settled back against the couch, cradling her pint glass. “Okay, then. Never have I ever been called a book nerd.”
“So we’re playing?” In his experience, this game typically got dirtier and dirtier as it wore on due to the quantity of alcohol being ingested. Except he was already quite tipsy. Or maybe even drunk. Was she?
“Why not?” she said. “Your turn.”
“Do I have to keep it clean?”
She laughed, and that low, husky, sultry sound flowed over him. “You are such a flirt.”
“Never have I ever been called a flirt.”
When he didn’t drink, she sat forward and let out a whoop of laughter. “Liar! I just called you a flirt!”