| |
The grumble that vibrates from my chest is low and hard, and it rattles the floor with each step. It’s a warning—as much for her as for the guys—to be on guard. I don’t want to watch Princess as we make our way to our usual spot in the pub by the pool tables, but the others are ogling her and her cousin, so I do too. Our eyes lock and that same tenacity she showed when outside her house with Asher oozes. That is, until she spins around and puts her back to me. I grunt again.
“This is her local pub, just like it’s ours.” Scott reads my mind without me asking what the fuck she’s doing here. “Who’s her friend?”
“Cousin. Kelsey. Stay away.” I already know why he’s fishing. Her toned arms that ripple beneath her t-shirt are all Scott needs to fall in love. One gym junkie to another. “She’s trouble. Just like Princess.”
We reach the back of the pub and settle on to four stools along the ledge.
“I thought you said she wasn’t a princess,” Scott questions without making it sound like a question.
“The name stuck.”
I can’t call her Izzy, it’s too friendly. And I can’t call her Isabella because I jerked off to the thought of fucking her hard from behind, gripping her shoulders, slamming into her slick channel while gritting out all four syllables of her name. You can’t do that shit with someone named Princess. Princess is something you hum on your lips, and since whispering sweet nothings doesn’t get my rocks off, I prefer thinking of her in that way. Especially in public.
“I’m going to invite them to play pool. See if I can’t lessen the tension between us, especially since we’ll be seeing her at the Morrow house.”
“Don’t.”
Scott turns away from me and stares at Kelsey and Princess in complete defiance.
“You’re not the boss of me.” He mocks, pissing me off on purpose. I am precisely the boss of him, and those women have a direct relationship to my livelihood.
Greg slides off his stool to rack the pool balls. “Want to tell us who your friends are?”
I say, “No one,” at the same time that Brett says, “My ride home.”
Scott and I glare at Brett while Greg laughs in the background. I don’t like the reason Scott’s taking my side right now, but I’ll use him if it helps. Neither of the women will go home with Brett or Scott. Especially Brett. He’s a friend and a great realtor for my business, but he’s also a playboy, and I don’t need him making things harder for me.
Jenn, our usual Saturday night server, drops off our beers, knowing exactly what we’d want without ordering.
“Boys, how’s it going tonight?”
“Hey, Jenn.” Brett tips his chin at her. His attention span is shorter than that of a squirrel in a field of acorns.
“Heya, Brett.” She quickly nods at him, dismissing the silent offer he makes every week.
Jenn points to my forearm. “New ink?”
I hate that she’s spent enough time looking at me to know that I’ve filled in a three-inch gap on the inside of my right arm. The guys all look at the new design, noticing it for the first time in unison. The red irritation has almost faded around the rosebush that’s nestled neatly between a tall ship and a Scottish flag.
Scott pulls Jenn’s attention away from my body before she’s tempted, once again, to ask what any of it means. “What are those girls drinking?”
“You know them?” Her voice bears the hint of jealousy at the prospect of competition.
Scott leans on the pool table, curling his fingers around the felt edge. “In a manner of speaking.”
“Which one are you interested in?”
“Both,” he replies.
I hop off my stool and fold my hands over my chest, daring him to pursue this. Jenn turns her head to see what’s with my suddenly threatening stance.
Misreading my reaction to Scott’s comment, she asks, “Which one is he interested in?” There’s a spiteful emphasis in her tone as she tips her head towards me.
“The brunette.”
“Am not.” I sound like a petulant teenager and tread away to grab a pool cue from the rack on the wall. This conversation is done.
Jenn leaves tasked with getting the girls’ next beer and Scott hovers, taunting me as I bend to take my shot.
“Move. Before I miss and shove this up your ass.”
He exhales with a whistle. “She’s got you all worked up. That was almost a complete sentence.”
I do miss my shot and thump my cue into the floor. I don’t bother glaring at Scott like I want to; it’ll give him the satisfaction he craves. Instead, I swallow a sizeable gulp of beer to cool my boiling blood. It doesn’t work, and things get hotter when Kelsey slides off her stool and approaches us.
Brett, who’s running the table and never stops for anything when he’s on a roll, stands as she approaches. Greg pushes away from the wall and Scott’s chest rumbles like he’s suddenly developed pneumonia.
“Who’s winning, boys?” she asks in a voice meant to draw trouble her way.
“I am, but I’ll forfeit if you’ll join me,” Scott says, despite not playing this round.
She hums a disapproving note. “No can do. I don’t fraternise with the enemy.” Those words are aimed at me. “But if a challenge was thrown down, I’m sure I could get my cousin to defend herself.”
She places a loonie on the edge of the pool table with a decided clink, marking her spot in line for the next game.
“I’m out,” I declare, and hang my cue in the rack.
“No, you’re not.” Both Kelsey and Scott say in unison. They look at each other and he licks his lips like a wolf on the hunt.
“Be right back.”
Kelsey sashays to her table and, after some hushed and apparently harsh words, drags Princess to us. Kelsey’s fingers grip like a vice around Princess’ unwilling wrist. She knows she’s being led straight into the lion’s den.
Scott stands shoulder-to-ribs with Kelsey and introduces Brett and Greg before motioning towards Princess, who stands as far away as possible with her arms folded tightly around her body and a ferocious scowl on her face. How about that? We have something in common.
The girls place their beers along the ledge and I notice Princess is drinking a red ale. Of course she is. She can’t be drinking a cosmopolitan or a piña colada or some other princessy kind of drink.
“Doubles?” Scott turns his smile on Kelsey, sharing silently that he’s onboard with the parlour game she proposed. Kelsey looks at him like he devised the cure for cancer.
“Only if I get to be your partner.” Kelsey purrs, making his ego soar. Can she be any more obnoxious?
Princess is glowering like she’s trying to figure out the slowest and most painful method to make me die. Kelsey could be more obnoxious. Only that role seems to be filled.
Scott rolls the balls behind the line, effectively ending my game with Brett.
“Hey!” Brett calls. “We were in the middle of playing.”
Scott continues to arrange the balls in the rack. “You were going to lose anyway,” he says. Brett grunts his disagreement. “But if you want to keep playing, you can be Izzy’s partner.” He’s baiting me, pitting me against Brett’s philandering lifestyle.
Princess beats me to reacting and throws her hands in the air. “I’m not surprised that Black Ladder is bullying me into taking a partner in a game I don’t want to play.” Kelsey runs a hand along Princess’ arm trying to calm her, but it will require more than that. More like a horse tranquiliser. “I choose that guy.” She thumbs aggressively towards Greg, who’s minding his own business off to the side.
“Brett hasn’t hit on her yet and she’s already shutting him down,” Greg jokes.
“Guys, let’s play a game, have a few drinks and we’ll all feel better once we get to know each other.” Scott tries to prevent a neighbourhood war by calling my business a game. Next time he asks for a raise, I’ll be sure to bring it up.
“Isabella,” Greg extends a pool cue to her. “Would you do me the honour of being my partner in this charade?”
“I’m glad you see it for what it is.” She pins her eyes on me as if I orchestrated this madness.
Greg grabs the chalk and twists it slowly around the tip of her cue, saying something to her I don’t hear. Princess’ focus moves from the suggestive way he preps her cue for the game to his face and she smiles lightly. My rule of no mixing business and pleasure extends to everyone here. No one touches Princess.