Chapter 33

Jamie

"So you wanted to talk?"

Bloody Hunter. He took a sip from his schooner once we got outside and into the largely deserted beer garden.

"So how much of that was Millie and how much of that was you?" I asked.

The way his eyes slid sideways, taking in the outdoor chairs with way too much interest told me everything I needed to know.

"The intent was me." His jaw flexed before his focus slid back to me. "But if you're asking if I quizzed my sister on how to best apologise, then yeah, that happened. I'm going to be installing her wardrobe for her as payment for her input. But don't go thinking this was us trying to manipulate you."

He sighed, and it was strange to see him looking so serious.

"I get it. You needed to know what was going on, but that didn't have to happen then. I'm a simple man." I snorted at that. "Millie says I'm too simple. If something's going on, I want to know right away, and I just assume everyone else feels the same way. I won't make that mistake again." He mimed twisting a key to indicate his lips were sealed. "So, wanna pretend that date." He shook his head. "That whole night didn't happen? We can go back to the way things were."

Except we couldn't. He'd opened Pandora's box and there was no way to stuff that knowledge back in. The fact he was willing to pretend he could had me shaking my head.

"With me beating you at pool again?" The look of relief on his face was everything, going some way to settle the restless feeling fluttering in my chest. That and the slow smile that accompanied it. "We could play a couple of games."

"For what stakes?"

The keen gleam in his eyes told me everything I needed to know. No matter how this fake date thing went down, he was still intent on winning at all costs.

"I'll see what else Millie needs doing around the house, and when I win, you can do every single thing."

"When you win…" His eyes narrowed. "We'll see about that, but what do I get if I manage to beat you, you bloody shark?"

I smirked, now on familiar territory.

"Why don't we work that out if you manage it." He watched me pat his arm with a small growl. "C'mon, let's grab a table."

"Oh no." Millie said, crossing the floor when she saw me chalking the pool cue's tip. "We talked about this. No hogging the table on a Saturday night and absolutely no taking guys' hard-earned money in bets."

I grinned.

"The only one I'm betting is Hunter, and each time he loses he needs to do one of those things on your DIY list."

"Jamie…" She trotted over to me, arms outstretched and I rolled my eyes, moving in to hug her back. "You're the one I really love. Crush Hunter. Crush all semblance of hope from his feeble skull and then crush him some more."

"You do realise you're my sister, not hers," Hunter grumped.

"See that face?" Millie waved her finger in Hunter's direction. "That's what I want to see all night. The look of defeat, of abject failure."

"You heard the lady," I said, turning to Hunter. "Do you want to break or shall I?"

"I'll break…" He stepped closer to the table, racking up the balls then leaning over, cue in hand. "Not that it'll do me any good."

I leaned on my cue and smiled as I watched him draw his back, hitting the white and sending the balls careening across the green. The solid green ball slammed into a pocket, making Hunter grin as he walked around the table, but the next shot he took? He leaned over, sighting the white ball down the length of the cue and I knew he'd miss the orange ball he was aiming for.

"Fuck… You're up," he said, when it hit the shoulder instead of the pocket.

I've always liked pool. In some ways, it was a deceptively simple game. Whack the white with the stick, sending the balls flying across the green and into the pockets, and if you pot all your balls first, you won. Of course in reality it was far more complex. Angles and trajectory, the force applied by the cue and its positioning. As I walked around the pool table, I felt a familiar kind of calm settle over me.

The pool table was somewhere I felt confident. My brothers had spent countless hours playing pool on the old table Dad used to have, and being their annoying kid sister, I'd begged to be included. They'd waved me away when I was really small, citing possible damage to the green, but my whining when I got older had Dad demanding they show me how, just to shut me up.

I was hopeless at the start, barely able to tap the white, despite my brothers teaching me how to make a shot, but their cackles of derision had me sneaking into the rudimentary game room set up under our house and practising for hours. My parents hadn't complained because I was out from underfoot and my brothers… The first time I made a shot, their grudging approval was like crack to me. I practised and practised until I learned to do this.

The pub, the music, and the chatter all fell away, the pool table becoming my whole world, one made up of mathematical possibilities. I could almost see thin, silvery lines all across the green, showing me how each ball could be sunk. There was a blue striped ball right near a pocket, ready to be tapped in, but I was never going to take a shot that easy, because where was the challenge? Hunter watched me size up the yellow and groaned.

I needed to knock several other balls to make the shot, but that possibility, of creating a chain of actions and reactions that would help me score and send Hunter's balls ricocheting off to worse positions, had me moving. I'd always take those shots, so I leaned over and did just that. I'd visualised the way the shot would play out in my mind, and when the balls all moved obediently into place, I smiled. The thud of the yellow into the pocket had me moving, ready to take the next one.

"Bloody hell, I'm gonna be building Millie a house from scratch at this rate," Hunter bitched, but I was able to push that to one side, right until he stepped up to the table.

Hands that looked just like the ones that caressed me came to rest on the shoulder, one finger tapping restlessly, the motion reminding me of something else. My bodily awareness came back to me with a snap, bringing to my attention the dull ache between my legs and deeper still.

And that was the problem with the twins.

Hunter hadn't kissed me until my mouth felt bruised. Hunter hadn't stripped me bare with reverence. Hunter hadn't made my nipples ache so sweetly, then just as I asked, speared himself into me. I wasn't feeling him right now, but the similarity between him and Hayden made me react like it was. My focus shattered, the possible shots disappearing and being replaced by a very different vision.

Hunter picking me up and setting me on the edge of the table, like Hayden had me in the kitchen. Him stepping between my legs, that crooked smile lighting up his face. Would his hands be just as sure as Hayden's were? Would he be able to inspire the same kind of pleasure, or even more tantalising, an equally intense and yet different one. It was his small frown as Hunter watched me just stand there that brought me back to the game. We were trying to go back to normal and me standing there with my mouth open didn't achieve that at all, so I leaned down and took my shot, the movement fluid and well practised, only to miss.

"Oh fuck, yes!" Hunter yelped, grabbing his cue. "I mean bad luck and all that." He shot me a fake apologetic look. "But maybe I won't spend the rest of my life being my sister's bitch now."

He moved around the table, taking one easy shot that my mistake had set him up for nicely, but as he studied the table to work out which one to take next, I couldn't take my eyes off him. The twins always moved with an unconscious grace, and I couldn't seem to look away as he leaned over to take his next shot.

Competence was always a total turn on for me, so I couldn't help but watch those long, sensitive fingers splay across the green, the lean muscles of his arms popping as his focus zeroed down on the ball. He pulled the cue back, preparing to strike the white and then crack, his arm jerked and he sent it flying. When he stood up I watched him, not the ball, seeing the slow-spreading, gleeful grin form, right before his eyes met mine.

"In your face, Kingston…"

He had more to say, that was evident in the way his voice trailed away, but that was lost when his eyes locked with mine. The triumphant smile faded and was replaced by something smaller, softer. Hunter wanted to ask what was going on. I probably would too if a childhood friend just started staring at me, but what was I supposed to say? Hey, watching you play pool makes me think about banging your brother earlier today.

And wanting to know if fucking you would be just as good.

"Your shot," I croaked, gripping my cue tighter.