Chapter 7
Six
Wyatt
I remember when my brother first met his wife.
He said the moment Kyla walked into The Steel, he saw her.
Even though we were in the middle of a conversation, his attention went right to her.
Rhett always went on about when he and Kyla met.
He said that he can feel his entire body warm up when Kyla wraps her arms around him.
Cash talked about when Abi walked into a room, all the noise drowned out, and she was all he could hear.
My mom and dad had love radiating through them, no matter where they were in the house.
Even when Lachlan’s wife was alive, he talked about her like she was his entire world.
Me? I always looked around, saw my—for lack of a better word—target and then approached.
I put on the swagger and the moves, found the perfect things to say to sweep them off their feet, and then, more often than not, I left with her.
I had contacts, but nothing more than a one-night and one-night only.
I never fully understood any of it until I saw Quinn walk into The Steel.
The music and chatter from the crowd died down, and Sam—who was telling me a very interesting, not-so-interesting story—became a blur in front of me. All I saw was Quinn.
She was dressed up. Her jeans hugged her body perfectly.
Even with the lace cover flowing down past her hips, I could see every curve.
Every piece of her had a part of me growing a tad bit harder, but like always, it was her eyes and smile that drew me to her.
I had never seen her like this, a faint layer of makeup that only added to her natural beauty—those emerald orbs standing out even in the dark.
If only I could see them up close, drown myself in them, and maybe… just maybe…convince her to drown, too.
So, when Sam suggested a game of pool, how could I refuse?
Striking out with her numerous times didn’t exactly set me up for success, but I had seen her watching me in the stables.
Her gaze would follow my every move, and I swear there were times when she was going to say something to me, but ultimately, she never spoke.
I would pretend I didn’t notice her; I would keep working, but I could feel her eyes on me.
There were a few times when I’d catch her staring, but I’d just smile at her and move on. But—she was watching.
That had to mean something.
Right?
After their first round of drinks, Kyla was the first to jump off her stool and head over to the pool table.
Sam and I had already racked the balls, ready for a team game.
Us, against all three girls. Abi wasn’t an issue, but I had seen Kyla play.
The former city girl had skill around the pool table—but Quinn was the wild card.
Could she play? Would she tease me the same way Kyla did when she and Rhett played their first game?
I was suddenly very angry at myself for not wearing my cowboy hat.
“You guys ready to lose?” Kyla came up to the table, grabbing the chalk before reaching out for the cue.
Sam barked out a laugh. “Hardly.”
“I don’t know, Sam,” I swung my cue over my shoulder, “Kyla’s pretty good.”
My gaze followed Quinn as she took the chalk from Kyla, rubbing it on the tip of her cue. Her eyes met mine, yet again for another second. She inhaled, and a smirk grew on those perfect pink lips.
“Who’s going to break?” she asked, looking from Kyla to Sam.
They glanced over at each other, then Sam met my eyes. At the same time, we each shrugged a shoulder. Sam leaned on his cue and waved his arm in front of the table. “Ladies first.”
Kyla raised her eyebrows and bent over the table, aiming at her shot before breaking the rack, the crack filling the entire bar. No balls sunk, which earned a laugh from Sam.
“I thought Wyatt said you were good, city girl?”
“City girl?” Kyla narrowed her eyes at him.
“Watch it.” I hit his shoulder. “Rhett has a sixth sense when someone is flirting or giving his wife a hard time, and we don’t want him showing up.”
“Especially since he’ll have to wake up my daughter to do so, and I will punch you for that,” Kyla spat at Sam, pointing at him with her hip cocked.
He flinched, a huff of a laugh carrying over the table. “Not flirting, just loving the fact that I can claim solids now.” Sam bent and aimed, sinking the green solid. “Your shot, Wyatt.”
I studied the table, which was hard seeing as all I could focus on was the turquoise tank top on the other end of the felt. Licking my lips, I forced myself to ignore her and aimed, shot, and missed. It was because she wiggled her damn hips and leaned on the edge of the table. Dammit.
“Oof.” Quinn caught my attention. “I could have made that shot.”
I raised a brow and leaned on my cue. “Is that so?”
“It was easy.”
“Well then.” I stepped back and waved my hand over the table, offering her the turn. “It’s your shot.”
Quinn rolled her eyes, then her demeanor changed when she looked at the felt in front of her. She flipped her hair, and it fell to one side as she leaned, aimed…and sank three stipes.
“Shit,” Sam muttered.
“Nice!” Kyla cried, giving Abi a high five. “I didn’t see that shot.”
Quinn smiled, a tilt to her head as she beamed with confidence. “My dad taught me.”
“Are you going to let Kyla have a go or…” I trailed off, placing my cue on the edge of the table.
“Oh, no.” Kyla handed her cue to Abi. “Technically, it’s Abi’s turn.”
My sister, who hated this game almost as much as I hated riding a bucking horse, took the cue and missed her shot, not even trying to aim.
She clenched her teeth. “Maybe I should sit this one out? I’ll go grab the next round.
” Abi didn’t even wait for drink orders; she just took off, and I watched as she spun, giving me a wink before making it to the bar.
I shook my head at her before giving Quinn my full attention once again.
She was studying the stripes, her eyes narrowing as she stared.
Sam copied her expressions and leaned in, aiming his cue.
Once the ball bounced off the edge, he stood up and glowered.
Kyla let out a small laugh and began to circle the table, her thumb at her lip as she concentrated.
Like he had done with Quinn, Sam mimicked the way Kyla studied the balls, no doubt trying to see what she was seeing.
“You gonna keep mimicking me?” Kyla asked, not taking her eyes off the set.
Sam scoffed. “No, I see exactly how I’m going to win this game.”
With a laugh, Quinn popped her hip. I made my way closer and closer to her, telling myself that I had to keep my hands to myself. What I wouldn’t give to brush her hair off her shoulder and kiss under her ear.
“So, your dad taught you?” I asked Quinn, leaning in towards her.
She nodded. “He would play with me until I started beating him. How did you learn?”
“I grew up in a town where pool was the only source of entertainment.”
“That”—Abi placed another beer in front of me—“is not true.”
“It is,” I remarked. I gave my sister a look, knowing full well she knew what we did when we were younger.
“You legit live on a ranch.” Quinn gave me a small glare, which quickly morphed back into a smile before she said, “Pool couldn’t have been your only source of entertainment.”
“You made your own entertainment.” That time, Abi jumped in. “When we were seven, he and Rhett jumped off the roof of the stables to try to land on the trampoline. Rhett landed safely. Wyatt broke his arm.”
“My point has been made.” Quinn held her palm out to Abi, but her eyes never left me.
“Okay, so I’ve done some pretty stupid stuff.” I frowned. “But if I recall correctly, you were on the roof with us.” I looked at my twin, raising my brow knowingly at her.
“Yeah, but I didn’t jump. I climbed down the ladder to save you.” She winked.
Quinn shook her head, laughing as she turned her attention to the table, aiming to take her shot, sinking two more balls. We were definitely going to lose the game. “What’s another thing you stupidly did?”
“In the past or recently?” I took a step towards her, and her scent filled the air between us. Fruity—blackberries and coconut, and my mind went right to wondering if she tasted the way she smelled.
“Recently.”
I raised a brow and went through the many stupid things I had done in the past two years, but for some reason, I landed on, “Not asking you out the right way.” I responded, my voice heavy, leaning into her.
Quinn’s eyes widened. “Well, sorry, I’m not a girl who likes a pick-up line.”
A pick-up line? I had an arsenal of those, but she didn’t want that, huh? So…why not cut to the chase? “Get a drink with me after the game.” I locked my eyes on her, not faltering in the slightest.
“That’s all you got?” Quinn pinched her brow. “Not even a ‘let me buy you a drink,’ just ‘get a drink with me.’” She took a step back. “Not even bothering with the pick-up lines now, are you?”
“You said you didn’t like pick-up lines.”
“Rhett legit asked me what I was drinking. His pick-up line was perfection.” Kyla chuckled, leaning to take her shot since Quinn and I had seemingly forgotten about the game. “They aren’t bad if they’re cute.”
“Yeah, but Wyatt’s aren’t cute,” Quinn retorted.
“You look like you belong on the dirt. How about we make it official?” With a roll in her eyes, Quinn looked over at me, giving me one quick smile—a tease?
—before watching Kyla take her shot, with her head tilting just enough that her hair fell over her shoulders.
I had the urge to brush it off to the side, tuck it behind her ear, and feel it between my fingers.
Damn, how could I get this girl to have one single drink with me?
“Ok then.” I closed the gap she created. “What would it take for one drink?”
She shook her head, her lips parting as she let out a small breath. Her eyes searched my face before they fell. “Nothing, Hartwell,” she said blandly.
“How about this,” I said softly, standing so close to her that our breaths began to match up. “You beat me at this game, and I’ll leave you alone. I’ll walk out of this bar with my drunk friend—”
“Hey!” Sam interjected, but I ignored him.
“—and I’ll stop trying to get your attention. No more pick-up lines. I win…you have that drink with me.”
“A bet?” Quinn's lips formed a perfect smile, and damn, I wanted to kiss the corner of her mouth, taste that blackberry coconut flavor. “That’s worse than ‘get a drink with me.’”
“Worried you’ll lose?”
“No, I will most certainly beat your ass, so it doesn’t matter anyway.”
“Then what’s the problem?”
Quinn licked her lips and turned to look at the table. I had lost track of whose shot it was. I wasn’t paying attention. I think I took two turns…but hell…I couldn’t care less about the game.
Finally, she blinked and turned to look at me. “Fine. It’s a bet.” Quinn reached out her hand, and I took it, giving it one firm shake to seal the bet. Her skin was soft as silk, and I held on a little longer than I should have.
“Kyla, whose turn is it?” she asked, not breaking contact with my gaze.
“Yours,” Kyla answered.
Quinn raised her lips into a smirk and turned to the table, not hesitating as she bent and aimed…sinking the remaining stripes. She inhaled, studying the table for a second longer before walking to the other side.
“Eight ball, left corner pocket,” she said right before she aimed, sunk the ball, and won the game.
Well…shit.
She straightened her back and did the same hair flip, handing her cue off to Abi.
“Hartwell,” she said as she walked over to me, taking my own cue from my hands. “I guess it’s time for you to take your drunk friend and leave.”
Let me say that again.
Well…
Shit.