Chapter Twenty
The girls finally drift back from the dance floor, flushed and thirsty.
The table immediately becomes a disaster zone of half-empty water bottles and toppled shot glasses.
Charli waves the server down while Shelby plops down in Waylon’s lap.
Harleigh drops into the chair beside me, breathless and glowing from dancing. A sheen of sweat glistens along the column of her throat and across the swell of her chest.
She tugs off her jacket, clearly overheated, and tosses it over the back of the chair.
Leaving her in a fitted bustier that emphasizes her dangerous curves.
My eyes drop before I can stop them.
Fuck.
She grabs a lime wedge and lifts a shot glass. Charli and Shelby grab one too.
“Cheers!” Shelby cries.
“Cheers,” Harleigh says.
They all tap their glasses together and knock the shots back.
Harleigh hisses softly as the tequila hits, squeezing her eyes shut while she bites down on the lime. When she opens them again, they land on me.
She studies me for a second. Then she tilts her head slightly. “I like this version of you.”
I lean back in my chair. “And what version is that?”
She gestures lazily in my direction with the spent lime wedge. “The laid-back version. With messy hair and cowboy boots.”
I glance down at myself like I’ve forgotten what I’m wearing. Definitely not my usual hotel attire. “Is that right?”
“Don’t get me wrong,” she continues, tossing the peel on the table. “Mr. By-the-Book Sexy Suit is hot, too, but there’s just something about a man in a pair of well-worn jeans.”
Something about the way she says it makes my pulse kick.
I turn in my seat to face her fully.
Now we’re close.
Very close.
Her knees brush mine under the table.
I lean in just enough that we’re nearly nose to nose. “You think I’m hot?”
She doesn’t blink or look away. “You’re not not hot.”
Across the table, Charli snorts. “You’re hotter than we thought you were gonna be,” she says.
Harleigh groans. “Charli—”
But Charli’s already going.
“She described you more as an Abercrombie-model type than a sexy-cowboy type. Right, Shell?”
Shelby nods enthusiastically. “Definitely.”
I raise an eyebrow slowly and look back at Harleigh.
Her cheeks flush pink.
“How was I to know there was a hot cowboy hidden underneath?”
“What a sweet surprise,” Charli says.
I can’t help the grin tugging at my mouth.
“Are you always this candid when you drink?” I ask Harleigh.
Her eyes flick back to mine. “You mean honest?”
“I mean blunt.”
She shrugs casually. “I guess so.”
She reaches for another shot.
I watch her knock it back.
How many is that now?
Three?
Four?
I’ve lost count.
She swipes the back of her hand across her mouth and leans back in her chair.
“Why?” she asks. “Do you prefer a woman who agrees with everything you say and hangs on your every word while batting her eyelashes at you, like Diana?”
The comment hits me out of left field.
I blink. “Miss Fairchild?”
“Yes,” Harleigh says dryly. “That would be the Diana I’m referring to.”
I lean forward slightly. “What do you mean by prefer?”
She gives me a pointed look.
“Diana’s a good employee,” I say evenly. “She’s dependable and competent, and she follows instructions well. And, yes, I do happen to prefer that my employees agree with me and listen when I give them instructions.”
Harleigh wrinkles her nose. “Boring.”
Then she blurts, “Are you two a thing?”
My eyes widen. “Me and Diana?”
“Everyone at the hotel thinks you are. Or have been. And she sure acts possessive of you. Always finding reasons to touch you.”
For a second, I just stare at her.
Then the absurdity of it hits me, and I start laughing. The kind of laugh that bursts out before I can stop it.
Harleigh immediately crosses her arms over her chest. Her glare could melt steel. “Oh, that’s hilarious to you, is it?”
I lean toward her again, still chuckling as I brush a strand of hair behind her ear.
The simple contact sends a spark through me.
I lower my voice. “Why do you want to know? Jealous?”
“You wish.” She huffs. “I’m just curious.”
I shake my head slowly. “You’re in rare form, Miss Storm. And, no, we’ve never been a thing.”
She reaches for another tequila shot.
Seriously? How many now? Five?
She downs it like it’s water.
Then points at me.
“We’re off the clock.” Her voice is slightly louder now, and she taps the table in front of me. “This is my stomping ground. Miss Storm doesn’t exist here. And neither does Mr. Garrison for that matter.”
I fold my arms. “Is that right?”
“Yep. We’re just Harleigh and Porter.”
She pushes back from the table and stands.
The movement has a few nearby heads turning immediately.
“And just Harleigh,” she continues, planting her hands on her hips, “is gonna wipe the floor with you at a game of pool.”
I lean back slowly. “You think so?”
“You bet your ass, cowboy.”
The challenge in her voice sends a grin spreading across my face.
Fuck. She’s feisty.
And God help me … I like this side of her.
I grab my glass and stand. “Okay,” I say. “You’re on.”
Harleigh throws both arms in the air. “Woo-hoo!”
A few people nearby cheer just because she’s cheering.
She spins back toward the table. “Anyone else wanna play?”
Charli waves dismissively. “You guys go ahead.”
Shelby nods. “We’ll just enjoy the show.”
I don’t miss the way they exchange a conspiratorial glance.
Trouble.
I’m definitely in trouble.
Harleigh turns and starts walking toward the billiards tables tucked behind the bar. Except she doesn’t just walk. She sashays.
Every step exaggerated just enough to draw attention.
And attention she gets.
Every man with a pulse in the place is watching her.
Including me.
Her pants hug her hips perfectly.
“I’m gonna regret this,” I mutter under my breath as I follow her.
“You sure are,” Cabe calls after me.
The pool area is dimmer than the rest of the bar, lit by green glass lamps hanging over the tables.
Harleigh grabs a cue from the rack and spins it playfully in her hands. “You play much, Porter?”
“I used to. Haven’t much lately.”
She grins. “Me neither.”
I pick a stick and roll it between my palms. “You said you were going to wipe the floor with me.”
“I am.” She grabs the triangle rack and begins setting up the balls.
I lean against the edge of the table, watching her.
She bends slightly to arrange the rack.
Damn.
This woman is going to be the death of me.
She glances up and catches me staring.
Her mouth curves slowly. “Don’t get distracted, cowboy.”
I clear my throat. “Just admiring your technique.”
She laughs softly as she slides the triangle away.
“Ladies first,” I say.
“Thank you,” she says sweetly before leaning over the table and lining up the break.
Her hair falls forward over one shoulder.
Then she looks up at me and winks as she strikes the cue ball. Hard.
The balls explode across the table.
Two solids immediately drop into pockets.
Harleigh straightens.
A triumphant grin spreading across her face.
“Well now,” she says, “look at that.”
I chuckle. “Beginner’s luck?”
She shrugs. “Must be.”
She circles the table leisurely, analyzing every angle.
Another loud crack.
Another ball sinks.
Behind us, I hear Charli yell, “That’s my girl!”
Shelby whoops.
Harleigh bows dramatically toward them.
When she bends to line up the next shot, I lean in behind her.
“Am I being hustled?” I ask, my lips brushing the shell of her ear.
A shiver runs through her as she takes the shot and misses.
Her shoulders slump in disappointment.
“Cheater,” she mumbles as she turns to face me. “Your turn.”
I step around her and lean over the felt.
Crack.
One ball drops. Then another.
Harleigh whistles softly. “Well, hell.”
I glance up at her. “Still confident?”
“Oh, absolutely.” She leans her hip against the table, watching me line up my next shot. “You’re good. But I’m still gonna beat you.”
“Doubtful,” I say as I sink the next one.
“So cocky,” she says.
By the time I miss, I’ve cleared five balls.
Harleigh raises an impressed brow.
“Not bad, cowboy,” she says as she pushes off the table. “But now just stand back and watch and learn.”
This time, I try not to stare.
I fail.
She knocks one ball in.
Then another.
Then another.
She circles me slowly as she makes her way to the other end of the table.
“Harleigh Storm!” Charli shouts from the table. “Stop flirting and finish him.”
“I’m not flirting,” Harleigh calls back. Her eyes flick to mine with a wicked gleam. “Much.”
I laugh under my breath.
She sinks the last solid ball, then points dramatically. “Eight ball. Left corner pocket.”
I watch as the cue ball hits the black ball, sending it into a perfect spin. When it falls into the pocket with a loud thud, Harleigh does a sexy little victory dance.
Charli’s voice cuts through the crowd. “Yeah, that’s our girl!”
Harleigh sets her stick aside and steps to me.
“Congratulations,” I say.
She smirks. “What do I get for winning?”
I look down at her. She’s close.
Close enough that I can smell the tequila and lime on her breath.
Close enough that the tension between us crackles.
“What do you want?”
She bites down on her bottom lip, and my eyes track the movement.
“Some fresh air,” she finally says.
“Lead the way.”