Chapter Seven #2
Now that, she could handle. She stared down the target and tested the weight of her bola. She swung it back and forth. She was about to let go when Jackson murmured, “’Course, your trunk’s real fine too. Nice ’n clean.”
The bola slipped out of her hand and almost beaned Lance. “Sorry,” she called to him.
He waved it off. “Suppose you owed me for Kaci here.”
Anna turned on Jackson, hands on hips, bolas dangling against her knee. “Are we playing dirtier now?”
“Sure wouldn’t mind, but my momma’d have my hide if she heard I cheated. Betcha your last name you can’t hit that there two-pointer.”
Anna faltered. She hadn’t decided yet what she wanted her last name to be.
He seemed to realize he’d goofed, because he started to say something, but she cut him off before she let her brain process the words. “Middle name if you still have four points when I’m done. But if I knock you off, I want to meet this momma of yours.”
He glanced over at the ladder, then back at her, his eyes getting all squinty. “Big fighting words for a Yankee.”
“Chicken?”
“That’d be like being afraid of winning. You go on and take your turn, then go on and whisper that little name right here in my ear.”
As if. Anna got into good bola-swinging stance and let it swing like a pendulum. No way could she take his three-pointer off. But she might be able to do something about that one-pointer. She brushed her thumb over the divots on the golf ball. Yeah, she could take his one-pointer off.
“Got a lot of equipment to squeeze into my drawers,” Jackson murmured.
Anna burst out laughing. She almost dropped the bola. “Stop. Just stop.”
“Starting to think I shoulda offered something better than chocolate.”
Two tosses later, Jackson was down a point, and Anna’s competitive nature had stepped in a pile of something that reeked of relationship stink.
She’d asked to meet his mother.
“Huh,” he said. “Looks like I’m gonna be needing your phone number.” He rocked back on his heels. “’Course, you’re gonna be needing my address before this is over so you can fix up my kitchen right good.”
On her next turn, Kaci managed to avoid hitting anything major, including the ladder. Lance did too, but Anna suspected that was on purpose. She and Jackson lined up for their turns. He gestured to the ladder. “Two-pointer for your middle name.”
“Three-pointer.”
He cast a sideways glance at her.
She gave him a saucy grin. “I might be a Yankee, but I’m not easy. Your last name if you miss.”
He hit all three rungs with his three bolas. After his last toss, he looked at her expectantly. She gaped at him. “Who’s calling who a shark now?”
“You still got a chance to knock me off the board.”
At the end of the round, the guys were winning by a landslide.
“Grace,” she said.
“That’s a right pretty name.”
“I’ll be sure to pass your compliments on to my parents.” She signaled Kaci. “Your dishes are on the line here,” she called.
“Don’t I know it. You had to go and ask ’em to mop the yard with us, now didn’t you?”
“So start scoring some points.”
By sheer miracle, or more likely pity from the men, ten minutes later the guys’ score was steady at twenty to the women’s eighteen. One point, and the Bama boys would win.
Jackson lined up for his first toss.
“I was kidding about meeting your mother,” Anna confessed.
“Now who’s chicken?” he teased.
“Come on, you introduce the woman who sets up your kitchen to your mother, she’s gonna start hearing wedding bells.”
His toss went wild.
Anna giggled.
“You’re learning, Anna Grace.”
Hearing her name rolled out in his Southern drawl gave her a glimpse into a world that gave her the shivers. She shut them down and put her game face back on. “If you miss, you owe me your middle name.”
He ringed the two-point rung.
“You’re over points,” Kaci called. “Doesn’t count. Has to be exact.”
“Your middle name?” Anna prompted.
“Now that’s cheating. Didn’t miss. Just didn’t hit the right one.”
“Semantics. One-pointer, or your middle name.”
“Gonna make me break a sweat here.”
She doubted he ever sweat over anything. But he wrapped the one-point line. Anna was up.
“Need a three-pointer,” Kaci called. She bounced on her feet. “Let’s show these boys what for.”
Three points. No pressure. She could do it.
And then she’d let Jackson off the hook on the chocolates, and tonight would be all fun, no consequences.
She’d keep hanging out with Kaci and the rest of the girls, and things would be cool and comfortable whenever she happened to run into Jackson. No pressure. Just some fun.
She lined up her shot. She swung the bola back and forth. Three points. She could hit a three-pointer.
She started to let go.
“It’s a real big kitchen,” Jackson said.
The bola slipped out of her hand and whipped across the yard to the ladder. It wrapped around Jackson’s two-pointer and knocked it to the ground.
“Twenty-one,” Lance called.
Kaci swatted his arm. “Nuh-uh. She’s got two tosses left. Don’t you be counting your balls before Anna’s done with ’em.”
Jackson’s chuckle rumbled low and deep. “Beautiful.”
Anna gritted her teeth. Two tosses. She could tie the score, or she could try to knock his other bola off.
Or she could completely miss and end up owing Jackson a clean, organized kitchen.
On the one hand, she didn’t need to get any more attached to him.
On the other, she did love putting a big mess away.
Were there Hail Mary passes in redneck golf?
She tossed her second bola, and it draped itself neatly over the two-point line. Twenty-one to twenty. If she knocked Jackson’s bola off and hung hers on the one-point line at the same time, she and Kaci won.
If not—the kitchen.
“Long shot there,” Jackson said.
Anna wiped her hands on her shorts. “Mm-hmm.” Staring down that ladder was like staring down thermo.
“You can do it,” Kaci called.
The night insects chirped happily, completely oblivious to the stakes riding on Anna’s toss. A few stars had popped out overhead. The ladder glowed eerily in the yard lights. With a long, slow exhale, she wound up her toss, and let the bola go.
The middle of the rope smacked the one-point rung. Jackson’s bola wobbled there, but didn’t fall off. Anna’s two-pointer, though, slid off its rung and plopped to the ground, followed neatly by the bola she’d just tossed.
She’d knocked herself off the board. Lost the toss. Lost the game. Lost the bet. She owed him. And owing him sent various parts of her a-tingling that no longer a-tingled for any man. Her a-tingle meter had to be off, because she was quite certain it’d never a-tingled that high.
Maybe he’d go shirtless while she paid up.
Lost the bet? More like lost her mind.
She squared her shoulders and faced Jackson. “Looks like I’ll be needing your address.”
His slow, triumphant grin sent another wave of a-tingles down her spine.
“Wouldn’t be right gentlemanly of me not to offer to let you off the hook, seeing how I didn’t know you got a broken partner,” he said.
“Afraid of letting me and my label maker into your kitchen?”
“No, ma’am. Looking forward to it. You know how to use a kitchen, or just put stuff away in one?”
He so wasn’t in the plan, but a little bit of fun never hurt anybody. So long as she kept him only for fun, she’d be fine. “Three-point question.”
“You’re on.”