I burst out laughing and shake my head. “You have plenty of time. Stop worryin’.”
“That’s so easy for guys to say! My grandma married my grandfather at nineteen, and they had five kids before she was thirty. Five! Granted, one pregnancy was twins, but still. I’m already behind.”
“That was standard tradition thirty, forty, fifty years ago. But now, it’s statistically proven that more couples wait to start their families and focus on their careers first. The average age of having their first baby is thirty. So, you still have plenty of time.”
“Oh okay, so I only need to find a husband, convince him to marry me, get pregnant, and pop out a baby in the next five years. Noted.”
“Or…” I counter, taking a long sip of my beer until it’s empty. “You can just do whatever the fuck you want.” Flashing a smirk, she tilts her lips up in amusement.
Before she can respond, Kenzie returns. “Another round?”
“Yes, ma’am. Keep ’em comin’. Maize and I have a game of pool to play. Loser buys shots.”
“We do?” She furrows her brows as she sucks down the last of her alcohol.
“If you’re gonna be a nun, you need to have as much fun as you can now. So, let’s get started.”
“I like him.” Kenzie beams. “And if you don’t marry him, I’m next in line.”
“Oh, puh-lease. Everyone knows you and Grayson are gonna hate bang and finally admit your true feelings,” Maize states.
“Don’t you dare put that negative energy into the universe.” Kenzie starts waving her arms around as if she’s trying to push it away. “Grayson can go fuck himself for all I care.”
If I knew who Grayson was, I’d be scared for him right now.
“Sounds like man-hating runs in the family.” I grab the bottle Kenzie hands me.
Maize snorts and shakes her head. Once her glass is full again, I grab her hand and lead her to the pool table in the back. The pub is small and offers minimal seating, but I like it. It’s a typical small-town country bar with Texas décor and pictures of cowboys on the walls. However, it’s not loud and crowded, so Maize and I can actually hear each other talk and move around.
“Should I assume you know how to play, or do you need a personal hands-on tutorial?” I ask, setting my beer down. Grabbing two sticks, I hand her one, then pick up the triangle rack.
“You’re quite cocky, you know that?” She bites her lip, and I notice the way her eyes rake down my body as if she wants to eat me like a snack.
“I prefer confident,” I retort. “Though I’ll say most women find that attractive in a man.” I start gathering the balls from the pockets.
“Don’t forget I’m becoming a nun, so my knowledge of men is lackluster at best.” She sets her drink on the edge of the table and grabs the chalk. I have a feeling she knows her way around a pool table and just might give me a run for my money.
“I’d be willing to bet you know plenty. Though your execution on how to use it to your advantage might be the issue.” I rack the balls and position the white ball to break. “Ladies first.”
Maize narrows her gaze as she leans down and rubs the stick over her bridge hand. She pushes her ass out, which shows off her long, toned legs, and I tilt my head to get a better look.
“You keep staring like that, and you’re gonna lose big time,” she smarts off, then takes her shot. The balls bounce off the sides, and eventually, one goes into a pocket.
I smirk at her victorious expression.
“Looks like I’m stripes.”
“Guess so. Let’s see whatcha got.” I fold my arms over my chest and watch in amazement as she sinks the next three balls before missing one.
We take turns calling pockets, and after fifteen minutes, we’re each down to one. She talks shit the whole time, which I find cute as hell. This girl isn’t trying to impress me with her body or by whispering all the dirty things she’d like to do to me. Not that I’d protest, but she’s actually making conversation, and it’s a breath of fresh air compared to what I’m used to.
Living on the road meant having my fair share of women available but being a bull rider—now retired—put a giant spotlight on me. Many saw the eight-pack and toned muscles and immediately stripped off their clothes. I won’t deny I loved the lifestyle up until my last rodeo, but after a dozen injuries under my belt, I knew it was time to settle down.
“Corner pocket,” she announces, taking her stance. I’ll admit I’m a sore loser, and the thought of losing bruises my ego a bit. I find it hot as fuck that she knows how to play so well. But that doesn’t mean I’m gonna give her the game.
Standing across from her, I rest my stick on the wall, then pull off my shirt. It’s a bitch move since I know how she’ll react, and it’ll definitely distract her, but I like to play a little dirty.
“What are you doin’? We’re in public,” she warns.
Glancing around casually, I see three people at the bar and a couple at one of the far tables. I shrug and flex. “I don’t think they mind.”
Her throat moves when she swallows, and her hard gaze focuses on my abs as she tries to make the winning shot.
“You’re tryin’ to make me lose, aren’t you?” She points at me and scowls. “It’s not gonna work. I’m a nun-in-training and am completely immune to you.”
“Is that so?” I puff out my chest to prove she’s lying.
Maize blinks hard as if she’s trying to look away but can’t. “Yep. Doesn’t faze me one bit. You’re just wasting your time.”
“Then why do you keep talkin’ about it?” I challenge.
“Whatever. I’m not.” She leans down again to focus on the ball. I shift my body until I’m in her line of sight, and when she goes to make her move, I grip the edge of the table as hard as I can. The veins in my hand pop out right before she strikes the cue ball, causing her to put too much force behind the shot, and the ball bounces onto the floor.
“Shit!” She slams the bottom of the stick against the floor and pouts. “You did that on purpose!”
Bending down, I grab it and walk over to her. Her breath hitches as I close the gap between us, and her eyes lower down my chest and stomach once again.
“I think you dropped this…” I hold the ball out for her, but she doesn’t move.
Knowing I’m getting to her, I reach down and place the ball in her palm, then flash her a wink. “Wanna try it again?”
Finally, she blinks and steps back, putting at least a foot of space between us. “No, that’d be cheating. It’s your turn.”
“Alright.” I grin as I take my position and call the pocket. Moments later, I sink my last ball.
She groans loudly, and I laugh.
“Problem?” I ask, looking over my shoulder.
She glares at me, shaking her head, and I bring my focus back to the eight-ball.
“Middle pocket,” I say, then shoot it in perfectly.
“Looks like I’m buying shots,” she says, defeated.
I put up our sticks, then tilt her chin up until our eyes meet. “Or we could skip them, and you could come home with me.”