by Debra Kayn
Once the kids were out of sight, she went back inside. God, what a heartbreaking afternoon. It made her immediate problem with how she would earn enough money to enter the tournament seem selfish and insignificant in comparison.
Everything she knew about Wyatt Carr was wrapped around admiring him from afar when he rode in on his motorcycle—how could she not notice? The bike made more noise than any other car in the parking lot, and he was a hunk. Just seeing him, all badass and wearing a leather jacket, made her think about him all the time, even though she'd never met him.
She sat down in the chair, ignoring the work in front of her. Knowing Jess's father wasn't married because the kids' mother had lived somewhere else, and Jess had mentioned she lived with her dad now, she tried to figure out the family basics.
She might've had a fantasy or two about Wyatt. In those daydreams, he was never married or had kids. Seeing him as a single father wouldn't change how she admired him from afar.
He was sexy in a rough, take-no-shit, way. While his son's face had a softness because of age, Wyatt had chiseled good looks underneath a beard and a swagger that showed off a cute butt in his 501s. She hadn't seen the color of his eyes since she'd only seen him from a distance without him noticing, but now that she'd seen his son's eyes, she imagined them brown.
The door on the cuckoo clock snapped open on the other side of the room above the couch. Counting through the bird calls, she hurried to write the new total of the rent payments received. If any others came in later, she'd catch up after she got home.
Only giving herself a half hour to get ready and get to the bar, she put on her makeup with a heavy hand, knowing her opponents tonight would walk in with the attitude they were playing against a woman, and she could use her looks in her favor.
Glancing in the mirror, she grabbed the can of hairspray, leaned over, and sprayed all her hair, concentrating on her bangs. Without standing straight, she blindly grabbed her hairdryer from the bathroom counter and blew out her hair until it was dry.
She stood, pushing her hair out at the sides, giving it one last spray to hold. Unplugging the dryer, she went out to her bedroom and grabbed her case, counted the money she allotted for the night, grabbed another ten dollars in case she got hungry, and left the apartment.
Taking her car, even though Riverside Bar was only two blocks away and it would be faster to walk than drive, she looked forward to the one night a week away from the apartments to do what she loved.
Parking right in front of the building, because it was safer when she walked out alone late at night, she carried her case inside. As was her ritual, she went straight to the back corner and picked a nearby table. Setting her case on the surface, she looked around for Carrie.
The server stood amongst the dart players to the left of the room. She glanced at the clock on the wall behind the bar. In five minutes, the first game would start.
As if on cue, she spotted Charlie Bodine and Davis walk in as if they owned the place. Refusing to move away from the table, she kept her stick in the case until the draw was pulled. Two years ago, she'd made the mistake of going to the bathroom before a tournament and someone had weighted her cue stick while she was gone. She hadn't noticed and lost the first game on a round-robin.
Charlie stopped in front of her and tucked in his shirt. "Evening, Ms. Farran."
"Mr. Bodine." She looked to the right. "Davis."
Out of everyone who would sign-in for tonight's tournament, Charlie was her only competition. He'd started being more formal when she continually beat him.
Davis, who always wore a black, long-sleeved shirt, turned his baseball cap around. "Has Carrie started throwing the names in the hat yet?"
"No." She ignored Charlie tilting his head to look at her bare legs below her jean mini skirt.
Joey pointed her toes inside her high heels. Some men were too easy to distract.
There was too much at stake to pretend she wasn't serious about winning. The five hundred dollars was a drop in the hat compared to the pot on the yearly competition at Blackfoot, but she was on a winning streak, and five big-ones every Friday went a long way to help make her goal more attainable.
Carrie approached the table. "Is everyone here?"
"Gene and Rabbit are in the parking lot," said Davis.
She hid her surprise. If there was someone Charlie hated more than her, it was Rabbit. Ironically, even though Rabbit was a smart player, she rather liked his easy-going spirit. Besides, he wore a leather vest that had Tarkio Motorcycle Club on the back, and it reminded her of Wyatt Carr and his Harley.
Adrenaline filled her. The more people who signed up, the bigger the pot.
"I'll wait five minutes, and then I'll have to get you started." Carrie waved over another server. "I'd suggest putting in your orders if you want anything to eat or drink now. We've got a full house tonight."
Knowing she wouldn't eat or drink anything unless she had a break in play, Joey gazed around at the crowd. She'd never seen the place packed shoulder to shoulder on a Friday night. It wasn't the pool tournament bringing in the crowd, and she wondered what was going on.
She half-turned to check out the dart competition going on, and her gaze landed on a familiar body, less than ten feet away. Never having been that close to Wyatt Carr before, she jerked her head up and greedily gazed at his profile while his attention was on the dartboards.
The music covered her sigh. God, he was as gorgeous as she'd imagined. At that angle, she could make out a chiseled jawline underneath his full, dark beard. His stern face was even harder edged at such a close distance. His smokey brown hair was tied at the back of his neck, and she'd only seen it hanging loose from his ride home after work. He drank from a beer mug, and even him lifting his muscular arm up to take a drink was sexy.
He must've rushed home after work to get to the bar.
Emotions clogged her throat. Home. To his children. The children who'd lost their mother four days ago. What was he doing here when he should be home with them?
Wyatt downed half the contents in the mug without getting a drop on his whiskers. Her heart thrummed inside of her. Of course, he was finding comfort in alcohol before facing the sadness waiting for him at home.
She lowered her gaze to his chest, outlined in a tight black T-shirt. Doing construction was working for him. He had muscles on top of muscles and not an ounce of fat on his body.
Biting her lip, she looked lower to check out his cute butt, and he turned, giving her a direct view of his crotch. She almost groaned. He wore Levi 501s, and the material created a pouch in front. A full pouch.
Her body warmed. Conscious of being in a bar with others looking, she raised her gaze and found Wyatt looking straight at her. From the glassy appearance of his brown eyes, the empty cup in his hand wasn't his first one for the night.
He set his glass on the table beside him and strode toward her. She stood straighter, prepared for him to ask why she was staring.
"Write your name on a paper and put them in the hat." Carrie set a pad of paper on the table and several pens.
She focused on entering the pool tournament and tried to ignore Wyatt standing behind her. It wouldn't help her game if she got nervous or self-conscious because Wyatt was only two feet away from her.
Close enough to touch.
Chapter 3
Wyatt
WYATT TILTED HIS HEAD and followed the curve of the woman's ass to the sexiest pair of legs he'd seen in a long time. Dayum.
Since when had gorgeous women started playing pool at Riverside Bar?
A person stepped in front of him. He lowered his gaze and found the server waiting to help him. He ordered and handed over cash for another drink. A few more, and he'd feel a hell of a lot better.
The pool tournament started, and the foxy woman won the coin flip. She motioned her hand toward her opponent and turned away from the pool table. He caught her gaze, knowing better than to interrupt the game.
She raised he
r brows, her full lips softening. Seeing her interest, he walked closer and grabbed a chair at a nearby table. His night was free. He'd drink, and watch the eye candy in front of him
A hand slapped down on his shoulder. He turned to see who it was interrupting his night, and Roddy sat beside him.
"Didn't know you were here, boss." Roddy looked toward the pool game. "Are you playing tonight?"
He'd stopped at the bar to get away from everyone, including his crew. Any game he joined would only be for fun and not when he was halfway to numbing his head.
"I got better things to do than play pool." He reached out for his drink when the server came back. "Keep them coming, darling."
"The same thing?" asked the server.
"Yeah, that'll do for a start."
He went back to admiring the woman pool player. Her skirt was short enough to tease him every time she bent over.
"You never said anything at work about what's happening at home, but I wanted to let you know if you need anything, just ask." Roddy lifted his chin and gazed across the room.
Wyatt looked in the same direction and took in the Tarkio Motorcycle Club members taking up three tables in the center of the room. He had two members of Tarkio on his crew at Carr Construction, Roddy and Frank.
On occasion, he'd hung out with the bikers at the clubhouse, shooting shit and drinking. It was a small town, he rode a bike, and he wasn't picky about who put a beer in his hand. But with juggling work and his kids' schedules, he'd turned down all the invites to do much more than party with them.
"Boss?" said Roddy.
He tipped back the drink and motioned for the server to bring him another one. "I got things handled at work and at home. Go enjoy yourself."
Roddy stood. "You need a woman, boss. Someone to help with the kids. Tarkio can help you until you get your feet under you."
All he needed was a woman to work off some of the pressure he was under. He could handle the kids on his own.
He gazed back at the woman catching his attention tonight. She approached the pool table, a swing in her hips.
Eyeing the balls on the table, she widened her legs, bent at the waist, and sent the cue stick gliding through her fingers.
"I'll give it a thought, Roddy. Thanks," he muttered, leaning back in the chair.
The woman's long, blonde hair hung to the small of her back. Thick hair, he could fist in his hands.
"Boss, if there's—"
"Leave me be, Roddy." He leaned to the side, grabbed his wallet out of the back pocket of his jeans, and handed the server three dollars. "I'll see you on Monday. Seven o'clock."
The drinks were catching up with him. He nursed the liquid in the glass. A gentle fog had begun to settle over him. In the back of his mind, he was aware of the woman winning the next two games, but he was more interested in watching the way she moved around the table.
Every time she lined up to take her shot, her lips parted in what he could imagine was the same way she'd look when he slid his cock into her body. That hint of surprise mixed with pleasure before she made a connection with the ball and became aware of herself again hypnotized him.
He found himself going through three more drinks by the time the pool tournament ended. He'd taken the time to imagine what every part of her body would feel like, so when the woman took apart her cue stick and set the two pieces in the case, he approached her.
"Nice game." He leaned forward so she could hear him over the music. "Congratulations."
"Thanks." Her gaze dropped to his mouth. "It was my lucky night.
"Winning deserves a celebration." He motioned the server over. "Let me buy you a drink."
"Thanks, but no." She picked up her case. "It's been a long night. I'm done."
He enclosed his hand around hers, holding the handle, keeping her with him. "One drink. Keep me company."
She looked around the room, then looked at his chest. "Just one."
The server approached. He looked to the woman to order her preference, and because it would be rude to let her drink alone, he got another beer for himself.
Not wanting a table between them, he led her over to the corner. She turned, and he put his hand on the wall, sheltering her from the others in the room.
She put her cue stick case beside her, propping it against her leg, and faced him. "Thanks for paying."
He leaned in and put his mouth by her ear. Her hair tickled his nose, and he inhaled the scent of her. "What's your name?"
She turned her head toward him. "Joey."
"I'm Wyatt." His balls throbbed in pleasure. "You smell good, Joey."
"Poison," she said.
He chuckled. "You're going to kill me."
"No, that's the name of the perfume."
He pulled his head back to look at her face. Raising his voice, he said, "Please tell me you don't have a ring on your finger."
She leaned her head against the wall to look up into his eyes, giving a slight shake. "No ring."
"You're the prettiest thing I've seen in a long time." He trailed his finger up her neck, under her chin, and looked into her blue eyes. "How adventurous are you feeling tonight?"
"I..." Her gaze dropped. "Our drinks are here."
He looked over his shoulder, spotted the server walking toward them, and reluctantly backed off. Feeling damn good, he would skip the drink to get her back to his place.
Once she had a bottle in hand, she looked everywhere but at him. He had his work cut out for him because his plans included her, on his bed, underneath him.
Chapter 4
Joey
WYATT'S BODY LEANED closer. Trapped against the wall of the bar, Joey tried to figure out what to do and ignore the way her body welcomed the weight of him at the same time.
She'd watched him all night, drinking one glass of alcohol after another. While he drank, he'd watched her.
She swallowed hard. No, not watched her. He'd seduced her.
Every time she'd walked up to the pool table, she was aware of him behind her. If she glanced over at him while waiting for her turn, their gazes had met and sparked.
They'd flirted across the room all night, and she'd known with every fiber in her body that he would approach her the second the tournament ended.
He hadn't disappointed.
Wound up, she could barely contain the way her body hummed at his closeness. Matters were made a hundred times worse by the fact that she'd lusted after him from a distance over the last six months.
He had no idea she'd inherited the apartments he lived in or that she'd met his kids. To him, she was someone he'd never met or seen before.
A shiver went up her spine despite the warmth in the bar and Wyatt's closeness. He probably believed she was only a woman in a bar, looking for a good time.
His beautiful brown eyes, half-covered with heavy eyelids, looked down on her face. She could almost pretend that he desired her. That his flirting meant something and his attention hadn't come from the amount of alcohol he'd consumed.
She sipped the drink, wetting her mouth. God, he was sexy.
He slipped his hand along her neck and brought her closer. "I want to take you home, J-J..."
"Joey," she whispered, reminding him again, even though he couldn't hear her over the music.
He took advantage of her tilted face and placed his lips against her ear. Her nipples peaked at the roughness of his beard against her skin. She turned her face and inhaled deeply, soaking up his scent. He smelled like she'd imagined he would.
Rugged.
Heady.
Sexual.
She arched her neck, giving him permission. He captured her lips. She moaned into his mouth, unable to control the violent arousal possessing her body.
Tonight, couldn't have gone better. She'd won the tournament—putting five hundred dollars in savings and adding to her goal. And Wyatt had noticed her and was kissing her. Thoroughly.
Adrenaline wiped out any nervousness at kissing him back. His lips w
ere lush, determined, and yet soft. He palmed her hip, dragging her forward. His hardness pressed against her stomach. Her pussy spasmed.
He dragged his mouth off her. "Let's get out of here."
She nodded, setting her bottle on a nearby table. There was no reason to think about the offer. She'd dreamed of going home with him many times in her fantasies.
He slipped his hand into hers. Taking two steps, she remembered her case and tugged his arm, reaching back. Once she had her moneymaker, she walked outside with him.
Near her car, he looped his arm around her shoulders and kissed her again. "I live close. We'll need to walk."
Thank God he hadn't ridden his motorcycle. He'd drank too much.
"I have my car." She turned toward him as he palmed her stomach with his other hand. "I'll drive us."
He dove for her neck. They weren't even going to make it back to the apartments if he kept touching her like that.
Once in the car, she drove around the block. His hand slipped between her thighs as she concentrated on driving.
"Why haven't I seen you around town?" His thumb caressed her skin.
She trembled, holding on to the steering wheel, forcing herself to watch the road. His touch was doing crazy things to her. She wanted to spread her legs and let his fingers wander higher.
Maybe he wasn't as far gone as she'd thought. Though he hadn't even realized he'd never told her where he lived.
"I moved here about six months ago." She swallowed. Her voice shook.
"My lucky night." He pointed toward the windshield. "I live over there. See that hedge?"
"Mm-hm." Her pulse accelerated.
"Don't hit my Harley." He removed his hand from between her legs.
Before she gathered her wits about her, she stood outside his door as he slipped the key into the lock and opened his apartment to her. He turned to her, a corner of his mouth tipping up. She moved closer, putting her arms around his neck.
Together, they moved inside.
Wyatt kicked the door shut. Conscious of checking to see if the kids were home and not hearing anything, she let herself go.