Page 30 of He Has Charm

“She’s damn good at her job.” I don’t know why I feel compelled to state the obvious because it’s not like Finn doesn’t already know this.

“True again.” He grins at me and I cut him off before he makes a wiseass remark.

“Double or nothing in straight pool to one hundred,” I say.

“Double what?” he says.

“A thousand clams.”

He lets out a whistle. “You a pool shark or just a guy with a big mouth and a need to be taught a lesson?”

“That would be door number two. I’m learning my lesson. The Boston Brawlers are my teachers.” I grin and lead him to the pool table feeling reckless and unsettled, like my life is off its moorings. Funny, in the past few days with all the shit that’s gone down, all the changes raining on me, I haven’t felt it until now. My mind goes to Harper. Fucking Harper and her taking-care-of-business attitude. Damn it. I should have brought her with me because fuck if her presence doesn’t stabilize me, albeit in a deranged, tortured way.

Rafe hands me his pool stick and I chalk it up.

“You play pool or are you fooling around?” he asks.

“Good question,” Finn says. Aiden hands over his stick and O’Rourke reappears with a Brawlers shirt in hand. He tosses it to me.

“This should fit. Put it on before you do anything else. Make yourself at home, part of the family. Because our team is like our second family and I swear that’s the key to our success.” I put the stick aside and pull off the old NOLA shirt then slip on the new Brawlers colors.

“Fits perfectly,” I say, though it’s snug. O’Rourke eyes me, looks me up and down.

“Sure. If you like showing off your muscles. Just remember we’re a family-oriented team here.”

“Not that you’re expected to be a monk as a single guy,” Finn adds, slapping my back.

“Oh, but I am expected to be a monk,” I say, embracing the full-disclosure, all-in policy if these guys are going to be like family. And I hope they will be. Tension twists in my gut with the need, the realization that these men hold my future in their hands as much as I do, and fitting in here is more than a want. Feeling like the new kid in fifth grade all over again, I grin at Finn’s skeptical look and the chuckles from the others.

“Whose rule is that?” Finn asks. “Harper dishing out that shit?”

“There’s more to it than that,” I say, surprised at the defensiveness in my voice. Letting out a breath, I admit to the whole fucking nightmare. “I’m contractually obligated to behave. And by behave, I mean, I believe the words were, ‘no tomcatting around.’”

“What the fuck?” Finn almost spits out his beer. O’Rourke and the others laugh. Rafe slaps my back.

“Don’t worry, Knight. The season won’t last forever. Only until June, because we’re not going home until we win the cup of Lord Stanley.”

“Fine with me. I’d do just about anything to win the cup.”

“Including become a virtual monk?” Finn laughs, shaking his head. “You’re in a worse fucking mess than I was ever in and that shit was pretty messed up.”

“I’ll be fine. Better than fine. I’ll be all about hockey twenty-four-seven. Nothing else.” I give Finn a back slap. “Except kicking your ass at pool for a two grand right here and now.” A rumble of approval mixed with guffaws goes up and the guys gather round as I rack up the balls.

“You want to break?” Finn asks.

“That was your first mistake,” I say, “because you won’t see one shot before I’m done.”

“You’re telling me you’re going to run a hundred balls?”

“Abso-fucking-lutely.” I firm my resolve, hoping my skills haven’t deserted me, because in truth it’s been a good six months since I’ve played. But it’s one of those things you never forget, and I’ve played pool all my life in between playing hockey and cooking and eating. And sex, of course. “I’m a shark. My record is a run of two hundred thirty-six balls.” I nod at him, satisfied at the sudden slack in his jaw. “You?”

A hundred three balls, four ice-waters and a shit-ton of pizza later, I leave the O’Rourkes' house with Finn, my rep and my place on the team cemented. Truthfully, I’m not sure if it’s my recipe exchange with Chelsea or my run of eighty-six balls before Finn took a shot that impressed the guys more. Either way, once I donated the two-thousand bucks to Rafe’s wife Zoey’s girl’s camp, the nods of approval felt genuine.

“Don’t thank me. It’s Finnegan Reed’s money,” I say as I follow Finn out the door and he chortles.

“Go ahead. Grind it in. You’re just lucky we don’t have a skate in the morning or I would have called this thing an hour ago.”

“Good night, guys. Drive safe,” Chelsea says as she stands in the door with Ryan’s arms wrapped around her. Finn gives me a ride back to the hotel.