“How much is he down?” I asked, assuming that’s what all the tenseness was about—he’d lost huge.
“I’m going to win this hand,” Finn said gruffly, not really answering my question, then added, “And don’t worry, I haven’t lost a cent.”
His words were reassuring, but the way he said them wasn’t. “What have you lost?” I asked, positive by the way everyone was acting I didn’t really want to know.
Finn’s friends, Parker, Max, and Darrin, immediately shot to their feet.
“We’re taking off,” Parker said. Then he raised an eyebrow, grinning as he shot a look across the table to Finn. “Good luck, buddy.”
Finn just gritted his teeth, waiting until they were gone. Then he said it again, “I’m going to win.”
The only other person left sitting at the table was Riley. And Finn already owed Riley money—a lot, I was pretty sure. Though not quite clear on the exact amount—as losing put Finn in a bad mood and he didn’t like to talk about his loses. Lately, wouldn’t talk about them. So, I was basically in the dark, but I suspected it was a lot.
“Finn, just call it a night,” I said, then glanced over at Riley. “What does he owe you?”
Riley studied his can of soda a moment, then looked up into my eyes. His lips twitched into a sympathetic smile. “You.”
My stomach tightened.
Whh?
Finn was out of his chair and at my side before I could actually grasp what I just heard. He put his arms around me, like for support, pulling me into the backroom, obviously hoping to calm me down.
“I’m sorry,” he said, holding me tight. “It was his idea. But it didn’t seem that bad. I mean, you like Riley, right? And he’s always had a thing for you. And he’s sad—like all heartbroken—over Ava. And it’s just a kiss—one kiss.” Finn went on and on, super fast, not taking a breath, as though he wanted to get the whole explanation out before I exploded.
“And I know you,” he said, caressing my ear with his lips. “You want my guitar. You want it bad, right?”
When I didn’t say anything, just stood stock-still, frozen and angry and hurt, Finn wet his lips and went on. “I was going to get it for you. See, Riley put his guitar in the pot—his guitar. Man, you know I love that guitar—he knows I love it. It rocks. So, I thought, hey if I get Riley’s guitar, Zoey can have mine. Seriously, Zoey, that’s what was going through my head—and I had a sweet hand. I swear. I did. But … I was out of cash.”
I gritted my teeth. “So you just thought you’d pass me over to your friend?”
“Babe,” he said, like come on. “You know that’s not the way it went. My hand was a win, a sure thing. Still, it wasn’t my idea. It was Riley’s. All Riley’s. He said I didn’t need to pay up. He said if I won I’d get his guitar, but if he won … he wanted a date with you.”
Hearing that gave my heart a jolt—turned it on fire.
Still, I gritted my teeth again. “And you took the bet.”
Finn raised his eyebrows but didn’t say anything, ‘cause what could he say?—the answer was pretty clear.
I let out a breath, ready to cry or yell, but Finn held me tighter. “Zoey, I swear. My hand was a sure thing.”
I clenched my teeth. “You always think you have a sure thing.”
As I struggled to get away from him, Finn’s hold on me tightened. “Zoey, I’m so sorry. You know I wouldn’t have taken the bet if I thought I would lose—you know that.” He tilted his forehead against mine. “I wasn’t disrespecting you, I was doing it for you, Zoey—I swear.”
He whispered in my ear, “Just tonight. Just this one time—go out with him. Let him spend money on you—the guy’s loaded.”
Whoa. Hearing him say that was like a punch in the stomach. Things had changed so much between us. He used to treat me like I was so incredibly special, like I meant everything to him—no way would he let another guy take me out on a date, he wouldn’t even let his friends dance with me. Well, he’d let them sometimes, but grudgingly and act like it was a huge deal. But now… now he was telling me to go out with another guy—trying to sell me on the idea. It hurt so bad. I could feel tears welling in my eyes.
I swallowed, then shook my head. “No, Finn. I’m sorry, I can’t.”
He grinned slightly, still holding me tight. “Yes you can. Riley’s hot, right? Just do it, go out with him—kiss him. Remember what we talked about the other night? Your Free Pass?—the swap?—the kiss? This is it. Take it.”
Ugh.
Finn was so cocky, so confident in our relationship—knowing I would never ditch him—but he had no idea what Riley did to my heart these days. He didn’t have a clue.
So of course Finn would choose Riley for my Free Pass. Of course. Riley who went through girls like Kleenex. The only girl Riley ever cared about was Ava, and she just dumped him. Finn probably figured he didn’t even have to slightly worry about Riley. No way was Riley going to fall for a girl and get tangled in a relationship—unless the relationship was with Ava. And like I said, she bailed on him.
Grrr.
Finn held me a long time, stroking my hair, then he cupped my chin, making me look up at him. “I’m going to go talk to him, okay?”
It seemed I should say no. I mean, it wasn’t my bet—I had no obligation. But Finn was my boyfriend, and I did actually know that his heart had been in the right place when he took the bet—sort of. I mean, the guy never thinks he’s going to lose. He thought he was going to win the guitar, and I know, in his mind, it seemed perfect since he wasn’t ever going to be able to buy the Gibson, and he knew how much I wanted his guitar. So bad. So, in a way—a very twisted way—it was sweet. Sort of. Maybe. I guess.
“Zoey, I owe him money—a lot. But he said if I could actually get you to go out with him—agree to the bet—we’d be square.”
I flinched, but inside I was a fluttering mess. Riley had gone to great lengths to go on a date with me and kiss me. Either he really did have a “thing” for me—a major one—or this was another of his tricks to torment me—just like when we were kids. I mean, having my boyfriend toss me up in a bet, how humiliating.
The thing was though, it was probably more just that Riley was bored. Ava bailed—and she was the only challenge he’d ever had. Ever. Every other girl in school fell at Riley’s feet, except Ava … and me. And now that Ava was gone …
“So, we’re good?” Finn asked.
I bit my lip, but finally let out a breath and nodded.
“I’ll be back. I’m just going to go talk to him.”
Finn scooted out the door and I stood in the backroom, leaning against the pool table, not sure how I felt. Hurt? Betrayed? Sort of. But not really anymore. Not totally. Like I said, I knew Finn thought he was going to win. He always thought he was going to win. He was an irresponsible gambler. Definitely. But see, the thing was, Riley knew that. He took advantage of Finn tonight with the bet. Riley totally knew what he had in his hands—he wasn’t like Finn. No way would he have bet his guitar if he thought there was the slightest chance he’d lose.
Finn on the other hand, come to think of it, probably felt he had nothing to lose taking the bet. I didn’t think of it this way earlier, but he probably reasoned it out in his head before actually accepting Riley’s offer. Finn had given me a free pass for a kiss—and he seriously wanted me to take it so he didn’t have to feel guilty anymore. As if things worked like that. But still, he probably saw it as a win either way—sort of. After all, he knew I loved him. He wasn’t worried about me falling for another guy—he was just itching for a way to get rid of his guilt.
Grr.
Finally, I heard Finn come back into the room. Not able to face him, I kept my back to the door, mad and hurt and confused. “So—what?” I grumbled. “Am I kissing Riley?”
“I hope so.”
My eyes popped open. That wasn’t Finn.
I froze, clutching my stomach, realizing Finn wasn’t who I’d heard come into the room after all. It wa
s Riley. Ugh, ugh, ugh!
I squeezed my eyes shut, embarrassed.
Finally, I let out a gasp and whipped around to face him.
Riley smiled. “Hi.”
“Where’s Finn?” I asked, taking a step away. We were too close—way too close. I could feel the heat coming off him—or imagined I could—and it was getting me all sweaty and agitated.
“Finn left.”
Riley’s voice was husky as he came closer, filling the distance I had just created between us. Again, I could feel his heat, smell his “Riley” scent. Mmmm.
Swallowing, I backed away further, into the set of cues hanging on the wall behind me. Riley quirked his eyebrows at my smooth move.
Ugh! I loved it when he quirked his eyebrows … and looked at me the way he was.
Unnerved, I felt back, clutching a cue.
Slowly, Riley pinned me against the wall. He played with a lock of my hair, leaning in close, so close that my brain turned to Jell-o and I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t. I tried to remind myself how—in, out … in … out. But it was hard because his seductive brown eyes were staring deep, deep, deep into mine, looking hot. And hungry. It had my heart pounding wild and my knees feeling all weak and unsteady. Like, if I wasn’t holding the stick behind me for support, I might keel over.
Plus, he smelled so good. So good. I was ready to like, pounce on him and start kissing his neck. Seriously. And he looked ready to do the same. He kept leaning, leaning, leaning towards me as though it was taking great effort for him not to swoop.
And I so desperately wanted him to. So bad.
Oh, I was in trouble.
I couldn’t do this. I couldn’t. I knew if Riley kissed me, I’d be a goner. My brain would melt away—we’d totally make-out and then I’d feel horrible. Guilty and used. Because I really liked him. Like, a lot. It wouldn’t be like what Finn thought, just a kiss. I mean, I guess it would be like that to Riley—he went around kissing girls all the time. To him, I was only a challenge because I was someone else’s girlfriend. Once he kissed me, he’d feel satisfied—another conquest—been there, done that—and he’d be over whatever strange “thing” he suddenly had for me.
I didn’t really want that.
I didn’t know what I wanted, but it definitely wasn’t that.
Besides, if he kissed me, that would be it—the point of no return. We’d be two tangled bodies, making out on the pool table in less than a nanosecond.
So, I couldn’t let him kiss me. I couldn’t.
As he drew his face near mine, his hot, sexy breath on my neck, teasing me on my way to sweet oblivion, making me all tingly and trembly and stupid, I suddenly had a saving moment—an idea. Frantic, I grabbed the cue I’d been clutching and yanked it off the wall. I pulled away from Riley.
“Play me,” I said, my voice all guttural. I darted away from him, to the safety of the other side of the pool table. “If I win, the bet’s off.”
Riley blinked, trying to take in the quick change of atmosphere. He ran his hands through his hair, watching me as I nervously pumped the stick. Finally, he shook his head, looking slightly tempted, but unwilling to take a chance.
“I’m kind of worked up for that kiss right now,” he said huskily. “Pool’s not exactly the game I want to play with you right now.”
Me either, I had to admit—but not out loud. Instead, I held firm to my plan. My good-girlfriend plan. My this-is-Riley-and-I’m-not-going-to-make-out-with-him plan.
“Come on,” I coaxed softly. “Afraid to be beaten by a girl?”
Riley, being a gambling man, grinned. He quirked an eyebrow. “What if I win?”
“Not going to happen,” I answered, racking the balls.
He set his jaw, a trace of a grin still on his face. “Then no, I don’t want to bet.”
“Come on. You know you want to.”
“No,” his eyes danced, “I really don’t.”
I finished racking the balls, feeling his eyes glued to me. I sighed. “If you win, you get my signed Clutch t-shirt.”
Obviously, I wasn’t planning on him winning, but I knew that would pique his interest. Clutch was his favorite band—total favorite. But they were mine too. Last summer I won tickets off the radio to meet them live and they all signed a concert tee for me. I loved that t-shirt and Riley totally coveted it. He held it ransom last year when I wouldn’t give him my extra ticket to see Clutch live, to a sold out show. I took Finn instead, even though Finn wasn’t really into them. Now that seemed kind of lame, but … I used to think Riley hated me.
“Seriously?” Riley sounded intrigued with the stakes.
I nodded, unable to look at him for some reason. “Yup.”
Riley rubbed the back of his neck, then hesitantly grabbed the other cue from the wall. He waited for me to meet his gaze. “I’m not planning to lose.”
I swallowed, ‘cause it seemed he was referring to the kiss, but then I shrugged, trying to act chill. “Finn never thinks he’s going to lose either.”
A small grin grew on Riley’s lips. “That’s what I count on.”
His eyes stayed steady on me as I tried to pretend I didn’t get his meaning—that he’d baited Finn to take the bet, so he could kiss me. Instead, I busied myself getting the balls lined just right, so I didn’t have to meet his gaze, but I could feel his hungry eyes trained on me, drinking in my every move.
Eeek! I shouldn’t have made the bet. It was stupid. I was a good pool player, like, awesome. But I wouldn’t be able to play tonight, not with his eyes on me like this, looking all hungry.
And of course, Riley was awesome at pool too. As we played, I started to sweat, realizing he might actually be better than me. No. Way.
The game was close, but in the end, I made him scratch the ball and lose the game.
It was kind of sneaky on my part, but hey, a girl’s got to do what a girl’s got to do. And lately I’d kind of been noticing Riley, at work, noticing when he watched me. He liked my long hair—a lot. Like, when I’d mess with it his eyes would glaze over and he seemed to go into this “guy” little fantasy world and stay there a while. It was funny. And flattering.
And useful.
Tonight—knowing how he felt about it—with every shot he took, I’d mess with my hair as much as possible. I purposely made my actions visibly accessible to him, so he could focus on them. And believe me, he did. By the middle of the game, his eyes were glazed, totally hot for it. He looked as though he wanted to chuck the cue—and the bet—and tangle his hands in my tresses.
So on his next turn, I was merciless. I messed with my mane, twisting it around my finger, flinging it from side to side. Riley watched me silently from across the table, his eyes devouring my every move, though he was trying to focus on his shot. He would take a distracted look at the set-up, then his gaze would keep creeping back to me. Finally, he started to go for it, haphazardly taking the shot though he wasn’t focused. At all.
I purred out a sigh that I hoped was sexy, but I wasn’t quite sure as I wasn’t really up on “sexy.” I bent over letting my hair fall between my knees, then did a gratuitous “fluff and flip,” tossing my tresses back over my head so they bounced all perky and wild over my shoulders. Riley’s shot went wild, banking the eight ball off the table, and sending it flying across the room.
“Yes!” I screamed, totally unable to believe my luck. (Good or bad—depending on how I looked at it.)
In any case, Riley just lost. And I was free to go. So I did. I ran for the door before my body had a chance to negotiate with my head. Because that game—and Riley’s hot, hungry eyes—had me burning. Burning for Riley. For his kiss. For his hot hands in my hair.
So, I didn’t look back. Not once. Knowing if I looked, I would see Riley’s eyes full of want and desire. Desire for me. And I didn’t want that. Well … didn’t want to want it, anyway. So I ran. Ran like the wind.
CHAPTER 6
Only a week after “The Bet,” I had another encounter with Riley. It w
asn’t my fault though. Really. ‘Cause I had planned to stay clear of him for the rest of the summer. Seemed easy enough. He went back to avoiding me, didn’t even look at me now—which made me feel kind of bad. I mean, besides being hot, Riley was a nice guy. He was. And it wasn’t exactly nice, the way I ran out on him the other night. I was feeling a little, tiny bit guilty about that. And somehow, his non-attention made me feel even worse.
So, it was incredibly awkward when the air conditioning went out in the kitchen of the restaurant, because all of my fellow co-workers enlisted me to motivate Riley to get it fixed. Again, they had me take off my uniform shirt and fluff up my hair. Also, they flung water on me—and my tank top—strategically, to make it look like sweat.
“No, that looks too sexy.” Tony—our restaurant’s hot, 22-year-old bartender—eyed me up and down critically, yet somewhat flirty—I think. “He’ll never fix the heat if you send her in looking like that.”
“No, it’ll work,” Porcha insisted.
“You guys,” I protested for the hundredth time. “You don’t need to do this. He’ll fix the air conditioner. He’s not a mercenary.”
“He’ll fix it—eventually. We want it fixed now, though, tonight. I’ve been pleading with him all day. He keeps saying Tuesday. I can’t wait until Tuesday,” Porcha moaned. “I’m sweating like a pig.”
“You smell like one too,” Regan teased, fanning herself with a menu. “I’m going back out in the seating area. It’s nice and cool out there—spoiled customers.”
Porcha humphed. “You can bet if the air conditioning broke in the dinning room he would have it fixed in a heartbeat.” She dabbed some more water on my chest. “There. Perfect.”
Of course I should have objected more. Here I was letting my co-workers pimp me out. But the thing was, they were usually so mean to me. It was lame, but I liked their attention—everyone suddenly being so nice, plotting for me to be their hero. Though admittedly, they had been being a lot nicer to me these days, anyway. And they’d had a right, sort of, to hate me in the beginning. Since right from the start Riley had given me special treatment, an awesome work schedule and the best tables. I would have hated me too, probably.
When I Fell For You Page 3