Page 55 of The Heartbreaker (Chandler Brothers 3)
“Well, you ladies join us and we’ll give our pool table to your men. How’s that sound?” Earl asked.
Kendall glanced up. A muscle ticked in Chase’s jaw and Rick’s hand slipped to his wife’s waist.
Oh damn. Sloane needed this conversation, something she knew Chase understood. “That sounds great,” she said before either one could object. “Kendall?” Sloane shot a pleading glance her friend’s way.
But from the excited gleam in Kendall’s eye, Sloane didn’t have to worry. Kendall was more than up for the adventure despite her glowering husband. “It’s good by me too.” She confirmed Sloane’s hunch.
“We’ll be over here.” Chase pointed to the railing by the pool table. “Right over here.” He aimed his dark glare and warning tone at Earl.
“I can’t remember the last time we wuz seen with pretty women like yourselves.” Earl grabbed her arm and led her to the table, Ernie following his friend’s lead with Kendall.
Sloane shot a grateful glance Chase’s way. He inclined his head and never took his eyes off her, making her feel safe and cared for.
She liked being Chase Chandler’s woman.
* * *
“I don’t like this.” Chase nursed a beer and kept an eye on Sloane while she drank and talked with Earl and his friend Ernie.
“You think I do?” Rick gestured to the waitress for another beer. “Next time, remind me not to offer to help you out.”
“Shut up.” Leaning back, Chase decided to use his time wisely and to watch. He’d always been intrigued with the facets Sloane presented, though he had to admit he’d never seen the senator’s daughter, only the relaxed woman. One so different than Madeline Carlisle and so at ease in his world. The one he’d wanted to see wearing his shirt for no real, rational reason.
He didn’t think this Sloane was the pretense. The woman she showed the world when campaigning for Senator Carlisle, however, was certainly a facade. Sloane might be more casual and relaxed than her family, but that didn’t mean she’d normally behave excessively. And the way she was doing shots with Earl and Ernie revealed a need to let herself be free. Just as she had that first night they’d met.
He told himself her rebellion was a good thing, considering she’d stifled her needs in favor of her family’s for too long. Surely she’d welcome the opportunity to be on her own when their time together was through.
He folded his arms across his chest and nodded. Sloane and her situation were perfect for a man who wanted to steer clear of relationships and commitment, and even better for the reporter who wanted to be the one to break her story. So why did the thought leave him feeling hollow inside?
* * *
Sloane was dizzy. Giddily dizzy. Chances were she’d pay tomorrow with a whopping hangover, but for now, she was relaxed and chilling out with Earl. And Earl had a lot of information to offer. Unfortunately, he was willing to speak up only when the women followed his answers with a shot of alcohol. She and Kendall had managed to convince the old man to substitute vodka for whiskey, saving them the more unpleasant taste, but the end result was the same.
Sloane was drunk. “So you spoke to Samson yesterday? What did he have to say?” Sloane rolled the empty shot glass between her palms. Glancing down, she saw two of them. Not two hands, which she obviously had, but two glasses, which she knew didn’t exist.
“Yessiree. He called. Surprised me too, since he don’t usually bother to find a phone.” Earl rolled his shoulders and poured his glass full. “Damn fool said he lost his house in a fire, but not to worry—he’s holed up somewhere safe.” Earl turned his attention to her shot glass, filling it halfway. “Did you ever do a slammer?” the older man asked her, changing Sloane’s favorite subject to Earl’s choice.
“I’ll get the ginger ale,” Ernie said, jumping on the idea before Sloane or Kendall could answer. He headed for the bar, returning a few minutes later with a liter of soda.
“Bottles at the table,” Kendall observed, her voice slurred. “Do you guys have an in with the owner?” She eyed the soda with curiosity. Obviously, she didn’t know what a slammer was either, but from the gleam in the old men’s eyes, they were about to find out.
Earl chuckled. “We’re good customers. He don’t mind giving us bottles as long as we pay for them later. And you did say drinks were on you.” He glared at Sloane warily, as if she might have forgotten.
“And I meant it.” She didn’t mind paying for the drinks, but she was quickly reaching her alcohol limit. With any luck, another two or three questions tops and they’d learn enough to walk out of here.
“Pour and slam.” Ernie filled the rest of Sloane’s shot glass with ginger ale while Earl began instructing her on the finer points of a slammer. He pointed to the shot glass. “You cover the top of that-there glass with your palm, then slam the bottom against the table. It’ll fizz and you take the shot.” He grinned, pleased with his directions. “You’ll taste how much easier the alcohol goes down.”
