“Aren’t you hot in that jacket?”
“It’s a blazer.”
“I don’t even know what that means, but whatever it is, aren’t you hot?”
Francesca laughed. “Yeah, I am. But it’s professional-looking.”
Slade looked around the empty room. “Who you tryin’ to look professional for?”
Francesca disregarded his question. “So? Are you?”
“Am I what?” He lifted the bottom of his white tank top and wiped his forehead again.
“Are you okay?”
“Oh, yeah. Yeah, I’m fine.” He stood and began to put away his tools.
“Not big on talking ’bout your emotions, I see.”
“You shouldn’t come here dressed like that, Frances. You can get hurt. There are nails all over the place and it’s dusty. You’ll break an ankle with those shoes.”
“Deflecting, I see.” Then she mumbled in Portuguese, “Homens!”
“I’m not deflecting. I just don’t have a problem. There’s nothing to talk about.”
“Really?” She smiled. “Have a good night, Slade.” She sauntered off after giving him a quick wink, and as she left he heard her mutter, “Pedaça de merda!”
“Stop insulting me in Portuguese!” he yelled, but she’d already left.
Slade went to the office, grabbed some of the clean clothes he kept there, and headed for the locker room, which was thankfully in working order. He took a quick shower and changed to go out. After the day he’d had, he needed a drink or ten.
He walked into the Pier and automatically felt his shoulders drop and the tension begin to roll off his back. He’d been coming to this bar for as long as he could remember—first with Chrissy and their dad for the best popcorn shrimp in town, and then when he became old enough to drink, this had quickly become his favorite hangout with Jack and his buddies. It was almost like his second home. He walked toward the pretty, tattooed pixie-like woman leaning against the bar.
“Hey, JL, what’s going on?” he asked.
“Hey, sugar. Nothing much happening here. Except I can’t get this shell off this damn peanut and I’m starved.” She grunted, threw the peanut back into the basket, and looked up at Slade. “You look like you need a drink. What can I get ya?”
“The coldest beer you have on tap.”
“Sure thing, hon.”
Jamie Lynn turned around to get him his drink. Slade grabbed a peanut, shelled it, and whistled to Jamie Lynn before throwing the nut to her. She caught it quickly, and popped it in her mouth. “Thanks,” she said with a smile.
Slade rested his forearms on the bar top as he played with a napkin, ate some peanuts, drank his beer, and thought about Jessica’s ass.
What the hell was going on with him and Jessica’s ass? He wasn’t even an ass man. Everyone knew that about him. Hell, he knew that about himself. But her ass seemed to be everywhere! As if he hadn’t had enough of it that day, there she was, bent over, pool stick in hand, looking aloof and carefree. He came in to unwind at the Pier on a Wednesday night after busting his ass all day, and even there he couldn’t escape Jessica’s goddamn ass.
Three men hovered around her. He stared from across the room for a few minutes before hearing a familiar deep voice with a Southern drawl. He had been so focused on Jessica’s ass, he hadn’t bothered to look at who the three men were.
“Son of a motherfucker!” Slade hissed. He sat back and watched Jessica play pool with none other than Travis. Was the guy everywhere? Slade was this close to firing his cowboy ass. Okay, the guy was great with the fighters, working them out like no one else, but damned if he wasn’t getting on Slade’s last nerve. He also saw Cain leaning against the back wall, pool stick in his hand, looking at his woman’s derriere with a smirk. His woman, as in Jessica. A sudden urge to pound his fists against his chest and proclaim her as his surged through him.
But what really made him see red was watching Tony lean over next to Jessica, showing her how to position the balls on the pool table. Jessica smiled up at the fighter, and that was it.
He scraped the barstool back and stood. A hand touched his shoulder and a husky voice, with a hint of amusement, said, “Don’t mess up my bar, boy.” Slade looked behind him to see Jett sitting next to him. Jett was in his mid-fifties, with long hair that was now more white than blond, skin that had seen too much sun over the years and looked more like tanned leather than skin, a thick handlebar mustache, and a Hawaiian shirt. The man looked like he belonged in Key West with Jimmy Buffett. In fact, Jett looked like he’d own a bar like the Pier. But while Jett spent most of his time sitting around talking to the customers and drinking beer, his wife, Patsy, did most of the work. In a long, flowy dress, her straight blond hair always loose, she looked more like a flower child from the sixties than a bar owner. She was always behind the bar or tending tables. But she did it with a smile and was warm and sweet to everyone.
“Leave the boy alone, Jett.”
“How you doin’, Patsy?” Slade asked, leaning over to give Patsy a kiss on the cheek. He’d known them all his life. In fact, he knew most everyone in Tarpon Springs.
“Oh, you know me, honey. I’m great.” She put down the rag she had in her hand and glanced over at Jessica. “Ain’t she just cute as a button?”
Slade looked back to Patsy. “Who, Jess?”
“Of course, Jessica. She’s our best employee, ya know? The guys are giving her a little farewell toast. She’s only working a couple more days. Sure goin’ to miss her. She’s something else, that girl.”
“Yeah, she’s something else,” Slade responded.
“We’re grateful to you and your sister for all you did to help her. Look at her smile. The light had gone out of her eyes for a while there, but she’s back. Thank the Lord!” Patsy tapped Slade’s shoulder before she went back to wiping down tables.
“She sure is something else,” Slade repeated under his breath before pushing himself off the stool and stalking his way to the back.
“Wait!” Jamie Lynn called. “Give this to my brother, will ya?” She handed Slade a second beer.
When he neared the pool table, he shoved the beer at Travis.
“From your sister,” Slade said. Travis looked up and gave Jamie Lynn a nod across the room.
When Jessica saw Slade, her demeanor changed immediately. He didn’t like seeing her carefree attitude disappear, replaced by tension. Knowing he was somehow the cause of that change made it even worse. But worst of all was seeing Tony showing her how to play pool, her ass backed up against Tony’s dick. Slade groaned and downed the rest of his beer.
He leaned back, arms crossed, watching as Jessica tapped the white ball with her cue but missed the ball she was aiming for.
“Mujer! You have to aim.” Tony squeezed Jessica’s shoulder.
Jessica looked up in confusion.
“Woman. Mujer is ‘woman.’ Don’t you know any Spanish? Dios mio!” Tony replied.
A group of three men who had been sitting nearby stood and walked over to the table. “Mind if we join you?”
“We’re just having some fun here,” Travis replied.
“Si,” Tony replied. “Just teaching this pretty lady how to play pool.”
“We’re not so good either. We’ll just play for fun,” one of the men insisted. He wore a black Stetson, similar to the one that Travis wore. He was tall, but not as tall as Slade, Cain, or Travis. “I’m Rob. This is Phil, and his brother Tim.”
Travis shook hands and introduced everyone. “I’m Travis, this is Cain and Tony, and this beautiful little darlin’ here is Jessica. The broody bastard over there,” Travis added, pointing, “is Slade.”
“Hi, gentlemen,” Jessica said, and smiled.
“Always a pleasure to watch a beautiful woman play some pool.”
Slade moved closer to Jessica, his neck corded and his posture stiff. “Especially one who keeps shaking her ass for the entire bar to see,” he muttered, loud enough for Jessica to hea
r.
“Hey, man. Careful.” Cain took a step forward. Cain’s unexpected protectiveness of Jessica only made Slade that much angrier.
Jessica put her pool stick down and crossed her arms. “What the hell’s your problem, Slade?”
Slade looked around. All eyes were now on him. He needed to control his temper. “Sorry, Jess. Just…” He shook his head. “Sorry.”
Travis, always one to lighten the mood, said, “So, you guys want to go first?”
“How ’bout a friendly wager?” Phil, the shortest of the three, suggested. “Three hundred bucks.”
All the men looked at one another and shrugged. “Sure,” Tony answered.
“Aww. I was having so much fun,” Jessica pouted.
“Well, hell, I don’t want to see a lady as lovely as you sad. I don’t mind if she plays,” Rob said.
“I’m sure you don’t. She fuckin’ sucks,” Travis blurted out.
“Hey!” Jessica shrieked.
“Cariño, you are beautiful, but Texas is right. You suck.”
Jessica looked utterly shocked by the news, which surprised Slade, being as she really did suck and a person should know when she was that bad at something. Apparently Jessica didn’t.
“Screw it. What’s three hundred bucks? I’m cool if she plays,” Travis said.
Cain and Tony shrugged, and Jessica squealed.
“No. She’s not playing.” Slade reached for her forearm and pulled her back.
“The hell I’m not!” She shifted abruptly, and he let go.
“Don’t mind them. Just a little lovers’ quarrel,” Travis said to the strangers.
While the men set up the table and decided who would break, Jessica pulled Slade aside.
“What the hell is wrong with you, Slade?” she whispered furiously.
“Jessica…” He wasn’t sure exactly what else to say. He couldn’t continue asking her out, since she had obviously made up her mind, but damned if he didn’t want to get on his knees and beg her to stay.
As if she was reading his mind, she said, “You’re so…” She paused, searching for the right word. “Intense. You make it so hard for me.”
Slade let out a puff of air and his lip curled. “I’ve been called an ass, a goofball, indifferent, and a jerk, but never intense.” He pulled her to him, wrapped his arms around her waist, and laid his chin on her head.
She mumbled into his rock-hard chest, “Yeah, well…to me, you’re intense.”
He remembered what a hard time she’d been through with Dennis, and to him, intense meant something negative. Maybe he was being too aggressive. He didn’t want to scare her off. He stepped back and inclined his head a little to look into her eyes. “I don’t mean to be that way, and I don’t mean to make it difficult for you. I guess I just need you to know that I did my best to get you to stay. That you really know I don’t want you to leave. I know you’ve already decided, but I just need you to know that I did everything I could.”
“I kinda thought you were busy with that blonde I saw you with.” She said “blonde” in a mocking voice, her nose wrinkled.
“I just went out with her to try to get my mind on something else. Someone else. It didn’t work. I haven’t seen her since. Hey, how about a little bet? If they win, you’ll go out with me one last time.”
“You’re betting against me?” There was a smile on her face.
“Sorry, lady. The guys are right. You suck.”
“Incredible!” She walked away, saying, “You’re on, Martin.”
“Your turn, linda,” Tony said.
Linda meant “beautiful,” didn’t it? He’d taken Spanish in high school. Son of a bitch, he was going to kick Tony’s suave ass!
She bent over, lined up the cue with the white ball, pushed off…and missed. “Oh, no,” she pouted. Too cute.
The three newcomers high-fived one another. Cain, Tony, and Travis complained. Slade smiled. So, where would he take her for their date? The movies and dinner? Too clichéd. There was a great seafood restaurant a few miles—
“How about we make it five hundred bucks?”
“Do we look stupid?” Travis replied, taking a swig of his beer.
“Well, you three should be men enough to pick up her slack. Or do you guys suck just as much as she does?”
Tony stepped forward. “Are you calling me a pussy?”
Cocky son of a bitch was going to fall right into these hustlers’ hands, Slade thought. Didn’t they teach reverse psychology in Cuba?
Cain and Travis took a step toward the man, and Slade pulled Jessica back. “Don’t do it. They’re just goading you. No way you guys’ll win,” Slade cautioned his friends. He wanted a date with Jessica, but he didn’t want to see his friends being hustled.
Rob spat on the floor. “Even your friend here thinks you three can’t play pool for shit.”
“Make it a thousand, and you’re on, comemierda,” Tony said, arms crossed.
“Um, guys? Maybe y’all are right, I kinda suck,” Jessica said from behind. She put her hand on Tony’s shoulder, which made Slade clench his fists.
“Yeah, guys. Not such a good—”
“Butt the fuck out, Slade,” Tony warned.
Fine, Slade thought, it’s his thousand dollars. Stupid asshole.
So it was settled. Cain, Travis, Tony, and the shittiest albeit sexiest pool player he’d ever seen were playing for a thousand bucks against Rob, Phil, and Tim, who were damn good at pool. Too bad his friends were thinking with their egos instead of their brains. It was a pissing contest, and Slade knew there was nothing he could say to talk them out of it. At least he was going to get a date out of it.
Jamie Lynn brought a tray full of shots. The three newcomers toasted to the money they already saw in their pockets and downed the tequila. Rob was next; he lined up the white ball with the solid orange on the far left pocket, aimed, and the ball rolled in. Then, cockily, he went around the table, bent over, and aimed at the green ball but missed.
It was Cain’s turn.
“Can I go, please? I’ll do better this time, I promise,” Jessica pouted. Damn, she was cute. But she was absolutely terrible, and there was no way in hell that Cain would allow—
Cain shrugged. “Sure.”
What the hell? Is he crazy?
The other men laughed. A date with Jessica was looking better and better.
Jessica grabbed the cue, chalked the tip, and bent over the far right corner.
All six men’s eyes went straight to her ass. She looked over her shoulder, winked at Slade, then wiggled her butt side to side. Slade groaned, but all eyes stayed glued to her behind. Up until this point, Jessica had displayed terrible form—she just placed the cue close to the white ball, closed her eyes, probably said a prayer, and poked it. Now, though, she formed a small bridge between her fingers and slid the cue between the knuckles of her index and middle fingers. She eyed her target, which seemed to be the solid yellow ball.
Tim laughed. “You’re stripes, honey.”
Jessica’s face was serious. Focused. She ignored the man and tapped the white ball. First it hit the yellow solid 1-ball, causing it to ricochet left and tap the striped green 14-ball, which slowly moved into the far left pocket, but not before it tapped the red-striped 11-ball, which also went into the left center pocket. She’d made two balls for her team.
“Beginner’s luck, I guess,” she sassed, and sauntered to the other side of the table. Without missing a beat, she bent over the table, and two more stripes landed in separate pockets. No one spoke, but Slade noticed the shit-eating grin on his friends’ faces.
With three stripes still left, she called, “Center left.” She tapped the white ball toward the lone stripe on the left, causing it to hit the two stripes sitting side by side on the table. They broke into two separate pockets, but not before one of them ricocheted off a solid, which in turn hit the black into the center left. Calmly she put the cue down and stepped back.
Cain walked over
to the wad of money lying on the table and shoved it into his pocket.
“What the fuck? She just hustled us,” Rob gasped.
“I did not. You just assumed I didn’t know how to play ’cause I have boobs.”
“Actually, cariño, I think it was more due to your ass than your tits,” Tony said with a laugh.
Slade couldn’t speak, couldn’t move. He’d assumed the same damn thing as the three assholes. Obviously his friends knew, though, and together all four had hustled the three men out of a thousand dollars. This woman never ceased to amaze him. And now he wasn’t going on a date, and it was his own damn fault.
Rob took a step forward, but Tony was quicker and grabbed the man’s arm.
“I think we’re done here, boys,” Tony said.
“Fucking cun—” Phil began.
Slade moved fast, and before Phil could finish the word he was up against the pool table with Slade pinning his left arm up behind his back.
“You really shouldn’t talk like that about his girlfriend.” Travis laughed and shook his head as he downed a shot of tequila.
“He’s not my boyfriend!” Jessica replied. Slade frowned and tightened his hold, causing Phil to let out a squawk of pain.
“Not the right time, darlin’,” Travis said to Jessica with a smile. She understood and backed away. Slade was angry enough.
Rob was not as smart. “Bitch, next time I’m going to—”
Tony moved quickly toward him, grabbed him around the neck, and pushed him up against the wall.
“Apologize to her, asshole.”
Rob said nothing, and Tony squeezed a little more.
“I really think you should apologize, man,” Travis told him.
Rob’s face was red, and his eyes were bulging. Tony, on the other hand, hadn’t even broken a sweat; in fact, he reached for a shot from the nearby tray with his free hand and downed it.
“S-sorry,” Rob gasped at last.
Tony released Rob, who half collapsed against the wall. But Slade didn’t let go of Phil. With a slight shake of the head Cain went over to Slade and pulled him off Phil.
Full Contact (Worth the Fight #2) Page 17