by Ava Miles
A couple of the new Irish sayings above the bar caught her eye as more people pressed in behind her.
Kilt. It’s what happened to the last guy who called it a skirt.
I’m Irish. We Don’t Keep Calm and Carry On.
And another kilt joke. Balls like this don’t fit well in trousers.
She was laughing now despite the crush. “The Rockies aren’t playing, are they?” She couldn’t make out what was on the TVs situated around the bar.
“No.” Andy put his hand on her arm. “Ah…Blake and his friends are here. In the back room. Playing pool and darts. It’s cordoned off, but they’re visible.”
That explained the camera flashes. Great. Blake and his boys were tonight’s spectacle. She hadn’t asked him about their plans. She only knew they hadn’t needed her to cater their dinner.
“Do you want to go?” her brother asked.
The thought crossed her mind, but then she realized it was ridiculous. He and the guys were doing their own thing, and she and Andy could do theirs. If they ever managed to get to the bar.
“No,” she responded. “Let’s see if your people skills can get us some beer.”
Someone put a hand on her shoulder, and she turned her head to see an older man in his sixties grinning at her. Seriously?
“Natalie,” the man said, leaning way too close to her face to be ignored. “I’m Cormack Daly, the head of the school board for Dare Valley.”
“Oh, hi,” she said, edging her head back, waiting for the punch line. “This is my brother, Andy Hale.”
“Yes, I know. I went to school with your mother. She was kind enough to talk with your ex-husband for me about taking over as the new head football coach.”
She had? How could she have interfered like that? Feeling thrown off, she took an unintentional step back and bumped into someone. “Sorry,” she murmured. She’d wondered about Blake’s plans long-term, but so far, he hadn’t mentioned it, and she sure as heck wasn’t going to ask.
“We’re so happy he’s considering it,” Cormack said, sounding like something was stuck in his nose. “He said he needed some more time to decide, and while we understand that, we really need to line up a replacement. You understand. I was hoping you could use your influence over him to nudge him in our direction. I’d planned to talk to him tonight, but they aren’t letting anyone join his private party.”
Andy met her eyes and then looked heavenward. She wasn’t sure if he was praying or feeling as incredibly uncomfortable as she was.
“Cormack, in case you didn’t know, Blake and I are divorced. He makes his own decisions now.”
He sputtered. “But he’s living next door to you.”
“Exactly,” she said. “Excuse us.”
There really wasn’t anywhere to go in the crowd, but she pushed her way through a few feet to be away from that horrible man. Her insides were shaking. If Blake took the coaching job, that meant he’d be here for… She did the calculations. He’d never quit a team after only one season. My God, he could be living next door to her for years.
“Breathe,” Andy said, cupping her elbow. “Don’t let that man get to you.”
How could she not? She wanted Blake to do something that made him happy, but taking a permanent job here? In Dare Valley?
Suddenly, the crowd rippled, and the people in front of them pushed them backward. Andy’s hand clenched on her arm, but they both fell back a few steps, bumping into the people behind them. Sure enough, someone stepped hard on her toes.
“Hey,” she yelled at the people in front of her.
No one cared. Camera flashes blinded her.
Someone called out her name. “Natalie!”
She couldn’t see who it was at first, but then Jordan was coming her way, parting the crowd like Moses through the Red Sea, a giant bouncer of a man beside him fending off requests for selfies and autographs. When he finally reached her, the bouncer stared down his would-be fanatics. More cameras flashed, blinding her.
“Nat! I’m so glad you’re here. You’ve gotta see Blake. He finally won the Smuck Award.”
Her mouth parted in shock. “You’re kidding!” This was monumental enough to make her mind stop turning cartwheels at the thought of Blake’s job offer.
“And I dressed him,” he proudly said, pointing to his chest. “Hey, aren’t you Nat’s bro?”
Andy smiled and stuck out his hand. More cameras flashed, and people started whispering and pointing at her.
“She’s Blake’s ex-wife,” a dishwater blond woman whispered, taking a not-so-subtle picture with her smartphone.
Then a tall guy behind Jordan, who looked like he was barely out of college, said, “She’s the reason he left football. I don’t care what the press said about his brother. Why else would Blake move to Dare Valley right after she did?”
Her head started to pound. It took a moment for her to return her focus to her friend and her brother.
“Yes, Andy,” her brother was saying.
“The doctor or the lawyer?” Jordan asked, not caring that everyone around them was listening with prurient interest and snapping pics. God, she’d never been able to tune out this sort of thing.
“Good memory. The doctor.”
“Awesome. Come join us. It’s going to be impossible to get to the bar in this crowd.” He leaned close to her ear. “We have our own waitress.”
“Sure you do,” she said, “but I don’t think...”
Jordan wasn’t even listening anymore. He put a hand on her back to lead her through the crowd with the bouncer. More whispers followed her. She even heard someone boo her. Jordan’s jaw tightened, and she knew he must have heard it too. Andy craned his neck to see who it was, his mouth pressed into a flat line, but it was impossible to tell in such a close crowd.
Maybe this isn’t such a good idea, she thought. When they reached the closed-off area, another bouncer nodded at Jordan and let them all through. The guys were clustered around the pool table as Logan and Zack squared off. In the corner, trying to be inconspicuous, sat Blake. But there was no way someone in that get-up could avoid attention. She started laughing, all the earlier whispers and boos and worries erased by pure hilarity.
“Guess who I found?” Jordan called out.
Some of the guys tossed out greetings while others nodded to her. Logan winked, that little rascal.
“I had to invite her and her brother, Andy, to join us. I mean, who better to see Blake the Smuck than Nat?”
Blake pushed off the wall and took off the horrible black sunglasses. When he reached them, Jordan clucked his tongue.
“You have to wear the shades, Blake,” the quarterback said. “It’s part of the look.”
“Didn’t you have to use the ladies’ room, Jordan?” Blake asked, meeting her gaze.
The look in his brown eyes was intense, and it shot a bolt of heat down to her very toes. Blake was studying her like he was trying to figure her out after their earlier interaction. Unable to sustain eye contact, she looked down, her heart pounding. Even dressed like an idiot with some hair product spiking up his curls, he fired up all her engines.
“I ran into Nat on the way and couldn’t pass this up,” Jordan said. “So, what do you think of Ace’s walk of shame?”
Her eyes ran down his outfit as he and Andy exchanged greetings. The Call Me Maybe logo in pink was enough to set her lips to twitching, but the acid-washed jean cutoffs showing off his incredibly fine legs made her laugh. Loud and hard. Sexy and funny. It was impossible to resist.
“Go ahead,” Blake said, putting his hands on his hips. “Have your fill. These guys still haven’t.”
“Not even close.” Jordan kissed her cheek. “What do you want to drink?”
“How about a Guinness?”
“Great. Andy?”
Her brother was trying to keep a straight face and failing. “Same. Ah, Blake, what in the hell do you have in your hair?”
He dug his fingers through the spiky curls. �
�Mousse. James Dean over there plans to be a stylist when he retires from football.”
“That’s a good one, Blake,” a couple of the guys called out.
Everyone knew about Jordan’s flair for hair products. Even ESPN’s commentators had joked he had the best helmet head in the NFL.
“I don’t know why you haven’t gone with that style before,” she said, sputtering.
His lips twitched. “I knew this would make you laugh.”
The intimacy in his voice made her stop guffawing mid-laugh. Andy coughed and shifted on his feet.
“We don’t want to barge in on your party,” she said, trying to recover from the shift in her awareness of him, from the sudden desire to run her hand down the hard line of his jaw. “We’ll just…”
He took her arm and led her to the pool table. “I heard someone out there booing you. If you don’t want me and the guys to beat the hell out of the haters, you’re staying here until you leave. No one’s touching you. Do you hear me?”
The hard line of his jaw told her he meant it. He was pissed, but he was doing his best to keep his cool. She nodded.
“I take it you and Andy came here to play pool,” he said, turning his back on the crowd taking pictures of them.
“And maybe find Andy a date,” she told him in lowered tones so her brother couldn’t hear.
His brows rose, and they shared a look. “I’ll help him out, Nat. You don’t need to worry about him.”
The air in her lungs froze. Even though he hated crowds and was pissed off about some bystander booing her, he was willing to do this for her. She almost hugged him on the spot.
He gave her arm a gentle squeeze and then turned away from her. “Andy, my man,” he said. “Let’s see if we can scare up some more of Hairy’s delicious potato skins.”
Andy blinked, but Blake was already putting a hand on his shoulder and leading him back out into the crowd.
“Take care of my girl,” Blake called out over his shoulder.
His girl. She looked down at her shoes, feeling off center.
“Old habits are hard to break,” Sam said, appearing by her side. “Come on. You and me can play some darts while Blake runs whatever errand is needed with your brother.”
“Andy’s agreed to start dating again,” she found herself telling him as they walked over to the dart boards on the wall.
“That’s brave of him. I hope he finds the most amazing woman ever.”
More amazing than Kim? The feeling of being off-kilter changed to one of sharp grief. How was Andy supposed to do that?
“Come on,” Sam said, thrusting a set of darts into her suddenly cold hands. “Let’s play.”
She focused on her target and drilled the first dart in the center.
“Bulls-eye,” someone crooned in a booming voice from behind her.
Looking over her shoulder, she saw Grant sauntering over to them.
“She’s one hot mama tonight. You’d better watch yourself, Sam. She might beat you.”
Suddenly, Natalie wanted to beat him. She wanted to rub his nose in defeat after what he’d said to her earlier. She threw her second dart.
“Bulls-eye,” Grant crooned out again.
Logan came over and slung an arm around Sam’s shoulders. “She’s killing you man.”
Sam shoved him. “I haven’t even had a turn yet.”
Her third dart missed the center by a millimeter, but it still gave her twenty points.
“Ohhhh,” someone called out, and she turned to see Jordan heading toward them, her beer in one hand.
“Mr. Cool is going down.” He gave her a high-five and handed her the drink. “Blake is getting your brother a beer, and he’ll make sure he drinks responsibly.”
She snorted with laughter and watched Sam hit one bulls-eye, an eighteen, and a sixteen. Her innate competiveness pushed all thought from her mind as she sipped her beer. In the end, she beat Sam by thirteen points.
He inclined his head toward her like the good sport he was. “Good game, Natalie.”
Schadenfreude must be real because she felt better for having beaten him.
“Anyone else want to play?” she asked, twirling a dart around in one hand as she reached for her Guinness with the other.
Professional athletes couldn’t ignore an outright challenge. Grant cozied up to her. She beat him flat. Jordan stepped forward with that cocky grin of his. She knocked him on his ass. Hunter came forward next with narrowed eyes, falling into game mode, she could tell. He was the best challenger, but she still beat him by three points.
“Boys, we have got to find Natalie another challenger,” Jordan said. “She’s the Queen of Darts tonight.”
So, they thought she was good at darts? Time to show them what she could do at pool. Feeling a bit cocky, she strode up to Logan and pulled his pool stick away from him. She held it out horizontally like it was a samurai sword and wielded it at them.
“Who’s going to play pool with little ol’ me?” she asked with a purr.
The guys all hooted and shouted. Zack twisted his stick until it crossed with hers, the Obi-Wan Kenobi to her Vader.
“Think you can play with the big boys?” the quarterback drawled out.
She shoved their sticks against his chest—or he let her. “I know I can.”
He waggled his brows. “Then let’s do this.”
After racking the balls, she broke at an angle and pocketed two solid balls in one shot. She made two more shots before missing one. Zack took over, and she discovered he wasn’t kidding about his skills.
“Someone is a big boy when it comes to pool,” she commented as he bent over at the waist and sunk a red-striped ball into the right corner pocket.
His mischievous grin had her tapping her finger against her pool stick. She was going to have to play dirty. Which meant lots of bending over. It had always worked on Blake.
Sure enough. It worked on Zack too. Men were so easy.
When she leaned back against the table in victory like a satisfied cat, he gave her a once-over. “If you weren’t Blake’s…”
Grant looped an arm around his neck. “She cheated you, Zack Sprat. No man can beat a woman when she uses her wiles like that.”
“No man minds getting beaten when he gets to watch,” the flirty quarterback fired back.
Rubbing her hands together, she turned to face the rest of the guys. “Who’s up next?”
Jordan strode forward. “Since I’m the only one in a committed relationship, I’ll play. I’m immune to the charms of other women.”
Now that made her smile. Jordan was a flirt, but he was faithful. “How is Grace?”
His smile said it all. “Great. She finally managed to pry out the chicken fricassee recipe from that fancy chef you two enjoyed in New York City. I gave it to Blake for you.”
She and Blake had met them for New Year’s in New York three years ago. She was touched Grace had remembered. Suddenly she felt a pang of loss for her old friend, for all these old friends.
Pasting a smile on her face, she said, “I can’t wait to try it. Please thank her for me.”
He winked. “Will do. Now, Nat. Are you ready to go down?”
These guys were all swagger, but she could trash talk with the best of them. Blake had refined her craft there.
“I don’t know, Jordan. Aren’t you afraid all that gel in your hair will throw you off balance and make you miss your shot?”
“Ooohhh,” the guys hooted.
“She’s got your number, Jordan. Good thing Blake isn’t playing. He’d scratch with all that mousse in his hair.”
She glanced over at the crowd, hoping for a glimpse of Blake and Andy. They hadn’t come back, which either meant Blake was still searching for someone, or they’d found a likely candidate and he was hanging around to help Andy get his game back. The breath in her chest evaporated, and she had to cough to reinflate her lungs. Dammit. Why did he have to be so sweet and supportive?
Turning her focu
s back to the game, she found she needed it. Jordan was a solid player and had a few trick shots up his sleeve.
“Someone knows how to work his stick,” Logan called out.
God, these guys acted like a bunch of teenagers. She rolled her eyes. She beat Jordan in the end, and then Hunter too. A round of drinks arrived, and she was handed a shot of tequila.
“Bottoms up,” Jordan said as all the guys clicked their shot glasses together.
All except Sam. He didn’t do shots.
Jordan poured everyone another shot from the Patron bottle. Natalie looked at the shot glass for a moment, knowing a second shot wouldn’t be the wisest decision. But for some reason she didn’t care. Nothing leveled a person out like tequila, and tonight she just wanted to forget everything. She downed the next one. Jordan poured another, and she went for her third. By the time she found her pool stick, her hands were tingling. Her body was floating a couple inches off the floor. She felt fabulous. If she closed her eyes, she could even pretend that the clock had re-wound to happier days and she and Blake were married again and out having fun with his friends.
Grant volunteered to play her, and when it was all over, she didn’t care he’d beaten her. The pool stick kept slipping from her hands.
Jordan brought more shots around on a tray, swishing his hips like a Vegas waitress.
She was reaching for another when Sam said, “I think you’ve had enough.”
The harmonious float she was lying on suddenly lurched. In slow motion, she turned to face him and stuck her finger at his chest. Or at least she thought it was his chest. Her finger only met air, and she stumbled into him.
“Don’t tell me what to do!” she told him and realized her words were floating too, like seeds from a dandelion she’d used to make a wish.
Cool, her fun drunk self said. She felt like the rock star, Pink, right now. Having fun on a Saturday night. Playing with the boys. Drinking too much. There was nothing wrong with that.
Jordan stood like a statue with the tray in his hands, unsure who to defy, her or Mr. Grumpy Face Sam. She took the decision away from him and picked up a shot. After tossing it back, she flicked her hair over her shoulder and looked at Sam.
