Chapter 13
Christine
Stamping the end of the pool stick to the floor in pride, I stand back so Tagger can attempt to save his dignity. Even though I’m a girl, he foolishly forgot I’m a Greene, and Greenes usually come out on top.
He also seems to have forgotten that my eldest brother taught me how to be a pool shark from a young age. I had to keep up with the big kids, and it’s a gift he gave me that’s still giving all these years later. The extra money came in handy as well back in high school.
I don’t need the money now, but a bet is a bet, and when I win, I collect.
He sinks the eight ball, then tosses the stick in frustration on the table. Turning his back on the disgrace he left on that felt, he rests his hands on top of his hat. Annoyance shapes a tightened mouth, but then he seems to come to terms with the loss and grins. “Well played, Greene.”
“Thank you very much,” I say, holding out my hand. “Twenty bucks. Pay up, Grange.”
He slides his hand into his back pocket, making his pecs stand out against his shirt. Digging through a few bills, he settles on one and sets it flat on my palm. “I thought we were playing for fun?”
“It was fun. For me.” I grin up at him as I tuck the money in my front pocket. “And it’s always a delight to win your money.”
Chuckling, he says, “Yeah, just a fucking delight.” He leans against the table and tips the beer back, drawing a long pull from the bottle.
His gaze stays focused on me over the glass bottom.
When he lowers it, he leans in as if he’s going to tell me a secret.
“You know, you sound a lot like Baylor right now.”
Being so close to him has me wanting more. I draw a figure eight on his chest, then smile up at him. “I’ll take that as the compliment I know you meant it as.”
“Figured you would, babe.” Tagger’s getting mouthy as he gets more comfortable around me. I don’t mind. I kind of like it. He shouldn’t take anyone’s crap, including mine. I don’t. I learned that from working in the men’s world of ranching. Stand up for yourself or get disrespected.
Whiskey’s has more room to breathe with each passing hour.
A few have slipped by without much notice until now while we’re standing here in a brief patch of silence.
Who knew everyone in The Pass had a midnight curfew?
I scan once more for Lauralee. We’re not attached at the hip, but we generally keep tabs.
I saw her playing darts earlier, then dancing with a guy we’ve seen around before, but I don’t see her now.
The band cleared out a while ago, but the pool tables are busy with people still waiting to play, so I step out of the way and pull my phone from my pocket.
Tagger asks, “Need another beer?”
“I don’t need one,” I reply, staring at my phone. No messages from her. “But I don’t want one either.” I glance up. “Thanks, though.”
I text:
Hey, where are you? Did you take off, in the bathroom, or hiding somewhere at Whiskey’s?
The three dots don’t show up, so I wait a few seconds, still staring at the screen.
He sets his bottle on a table half empty. “I think it’s time to go.”
The phone vibrates in my hand drawing my attention to it again. She replies:
I was tired and didn’t want to drink much since I was driving.
I would have gone with you.
Not a lie. I would have if she wanted me to. It’s been fun with Tagger, though, so I’m glad she didn’t.
I had no doubt you were in good hands.
I swing my gaze to his hands. They’re very good hands indeed. Big, capable, and strong enough to grab my hips. He’d have no problem handling me in bed since he kept me from face-planting.
Another message pops up.
I just got home. You have fun and don’t do anything I wouldn’t.
With a giggle, I’m quick to reply.
That doesn’t leave much.
Lauralee sends:
Precisely my point.
I laugh again before putting my phone away. When my eyes reach those shaded greens from the black hat he’s wearing, I reach up to steal it from his head and set it on mine.
Something in his gaze darkens, and then, as if he’s seen heaven, he smiles. “You look good.” Glad he approves. The tip of the hat slips down over my brow, but instead of lifting it, he tilts his head sideways for a better view. “Want to get out of here?”
We’ve had some hot and cold moments the past few days, but smoothing through the misunderstandings has me thinking about the invisible lines he’s drawn in the sand when it comes to where we go from here.
Blurring them was fun down at the river, but now I have no idea where we stand other than back to being friends again.
A few beers won’t change that. A few bad decisions might, but that leads to other issues.
And I don’t want issues with him without a chance to fix them.
So where does that leave us?
Some guys I recognize from over in Dover start racking the balls, which makes it a good time to move anyway.
“I’m ready,” I reply, unsure what exactly I’m agreeing to—a ride home or going somewhere else.
That’s the thing about Tagger Grange—I trust him.
He’s close enough to answer to my dad if he screws up, but not so close that the kiss we shared was weird.
It was the opposite—what I always dreamed it would be.
He leads me by the small of my back toward the exit, and the heat penetrates the thin material of my shirt. I even slow down to get a better feel, and he doesn’t disappoint. His entire hand flattens against my back, covering most of the acreage. So big.
As soon as we’re outside, he switches it up and takes possession of my hand. Okay. Okay, Mr. Grange. You got my attention.
A roguish grin spreads across his face when we stop at the back of the truck. Clearly, he’s trying to woo me and succeeding. I glance down at our still clasped hands, not anxious to release it just yet.
A storm brews in his eyes. I don’t know if I should heed the warning or march right into it. My breathing picks up along with my heart rate, that intensity in our shared look has the pregnant pause between us inseminating me on the spot.
Reaching up, he tucks some of my hair behind my ear but leaves the hat right where it is on my head. “I should get you to bed.” This man’s deep voice, the scruff shadowing his jaw, and the way he drags the pad of his thumb over his bottom lip gets me worked up.
“I’ve heard that line before, cowboy. But last time, you didn’t follow through.”
“I got you to bed alright. I just didn’t go with you.” With a nod, he adds, “Which, you know, good and well, was best for both of us.”
I huff and walk around to the passenger side of the truck.
Looking back with a different kind of bed between us, I anchor my arm on the side of it and grin.
“I actually don’t know if that was best for both of us, but we could give it a go and see where we land this time.
” I know he catches the indirect question, the invitation I’ve given with a rolled-out red carpet for the man.
I open the door and climb inside. I’m good leaving him hanging.
If I’ve learned anything, it’s that Tagger likes to play games.
A little cat and mouse here, some tag there, and hide-and-seek in between.
He likes the mystery of me. The man’s starving for a good time. Luckily for him, I am as well. But I really do start to wonder about the type of women he dates back in the city. Surely, I can’t be offering him anything more than they can. And if I don’t, why does he keep taking the bait?
Walking to the driver’s side, he climbs in and silently buckles up. After starting the engine, his fingers flex a few times around the steering wheel before shifting into gear and gripping on tight.
We don’t speak a word as he pulls out of the lot and onto the road that leads to the highway. Just as I’m about to break whatever barrier has sprung between us, he says, “You shouldn’t come onto men like you do, Pris.”
To hear what’s been plaguing him the past few minutes has me smirking. Resting an elbow on the door, I casually lean my head on my hand. “Why not?”
“Because they might take you up on it.”
“I don’t see the problem.” I look out the window when another car passes. They’re few and far between, but the lights shine into the cab of the truck like we’re on a Broadway stage. “If I’m saying it, I mean it.”
“You’re really impossible.” Glancing over at me again, he says, “You’re the kind of person who’s given an inch but takes the whole damn mile.”
“Only if they like it. If they don’t, we can switch positions and try something new.”
“Fuck me, Pris. Either you’re the horniest woman I’ve ever met or you’re all talk with that sweet little mouth of yours.”
“It might not be as sweet as you think it is.”
His grin grows with a shake of his head. “I swear your mind is in the gutter more than any guy I’ve ever known.”
“That’s saying something since you’re best friends with my brother.”
“I don’t want to talk about your brother.” His tone flips to firm, leaving no room for questions.
I push. “Why?”
He glances over with the tip of pain weaving lines into his forehead, a hint of confusion shaping the corners of his eyes, and a tinge of anger staring right at me. He pulls. “Because if I’m not careful, I won’t be able to look him in the eyes the next time I see him.”
Push. “Careful how?”
Pull. “With what I want to do to you.” There’s an edge to his tone that fills his words with caution. I’m thinking it’s the same edge he’s standing on when it comes to me. Will he jump or pull away again?
I angle the hat up in the front when the air thins between us and tensions thicken. “What do you want to do to me, Tagger?”
His eyes stay on the road ahead, his body stiff with restraint as he grips the wheel. “Did anyone ever tell you that you ask too many questions?”
“Everyone, but that doesn’t answer the one I asked you.”
This time, his eyes glide to the side to look at me. The slow and calculated movement keeps me on the edge of my seat in anticipation of what he’ll say or do next.
“It’s tempting to kiss you just to hear myself think.”
I laugh, the vibration freeing to release the breath I was holding. “If you think that will keep me quiet, you have another thing coming.”
His shoulders ease, and his elbows loosen as he steers. “You might claim you’re not so little anymore, but that’s big-league talk, and you’ve only been playing with boys.”
My heart hasn’t stopped racing, but I’m not intimidated. I’m intrigued. Even though I know the answer because he’s right, I still ask, “Let me guess, you’re a real man?”
His hand dips to his jeans as he shifts on the seat. There appears to be a growing problem that needs solving down there, but I think it’s best not to make the situation worse by pointing it out.
He shakes his head as if he’s about ready to settle this argument once and for all. “I’m starting to think I’m the only man who can handle you.”
When shots are fired, I fire right back. “And how would you do that exactly?”
“I’d start with that mouth of yours and keep it busy. Then . . .” he says, eyeing my chest without regard to the fact I can see him. Or maybe he doesn’t care anymore. “Go lower. You were right earlier. You’d never be able to keep quiet once I have my way with you.”
Oh . . . myyy!
Biting my lip, I sit up and grin like I just won the lottery. “Goodness, Mr. Grange, and here I thought you were a gentleman.”
“Seems you’ve been outplayed, Ms. Greene.”
“Or maybe you just played right into my hand.”
I’m flung to the right from the sudden yank of the steering wheel as he pulls the truck off to the side of the deserted two-lane road.
With my hands anchoring me between the door and the dashboard, I hold strong until the truck comes to a skidding stop. “Oh my God!”
“This is what you wanted, right, Pris? You want a man to take charge so you don’t have to carry that load all alone.
I’m your guy.” He flings his arms wide. “I’m right fucking here.
Your message was loud and clear. You want me?
You got me.” He pops the lock on my seat belt and then rubs a finger under my chin as he raises it.
When our eyes connect, he leans in. “Now . . . what are you going to do with me?”
Fine, sometimes I talk a big game but there’s no intention behind it. This is not one of those times. Tonight, I’m all action.