Page 84 of The Game Plan

“Damn right,” he says. “Do you know how to play cutthroat?” This time, he unwraps from my side and speaks loud enough for the other Dragons to hear. “We’re playing in groups of five, winner stays on the table. That’s me, for the record.”

I roll my eyes. “’Course it is,” I say as the other guys chirp him. I walk around the table, checking the felt, considering whether the surface is flat and balanced. “So, three numbers each, pot the opponent’s balls first, make sure yours are the last standing?”

Jax brings two cues my way and I pause in front of him, taking one. “What are the stakes?” I ask, knowing from my pulse rate alone that I am emitting all the flirt hormones right now. Jax takes the bait, stepping closer to me. “Pride.”

“Pride, schmide. I want the chance to win big, Harris.” What am I suggesting here? What am I even saying? Who is this impulsive woman? I’m behaving more like Jax than myself.

He knows how I’m feeling, how my thighs are squeezing together and everything south of my waistline is aching, empty, how my breasts swell under my shirt.

“I’m not sure the guys would dare to want the same stakes as I do,” he says, quieter, huskier, without the awkward tension that’s been between us since the gala. Raw heat.

He wants this, too.

One night or forever? At this stage, I can’t even process the difference.

“Sienna, if you don’t stop looking at me the way you are, I can’t be responsible for my actions.”

My tongue slides over my lips, then I bite into them, failing to suppress a smirk. “Then you’d better hope you win, Jax.”

He shakes his head, his hand coming up to the nape of my neck and bringing my mouth close to his. “No, I’d like to see what you want as a prize if you win.”

I release an unsteady breath, then my husband winks at me… winks… and leaves me to proverbially resolidify, legs wobbly for a second, until I get a hold of myself. Jesus, I work with these guys. The thought comes but it’s fleeting. I’ve taken tonight off, for once. Soon, I won’t work with any of the Dragons, and as I try to push away all the other implications of that thought, TJ, Suzuki and Zach are declared the other three players for cutthroat.

We draw straws and Zach wins the first shot of the game but he pots nothing. I chalk the end of my cue and move to the table for my turn. I choose a shot that has me bending over the table right in front of Jax and, yeah, I push out my ass and glance back across my shoulder to see him smirking, eyes smoldering.

Are we really going to do this, again? I take a steadying breath – spiraling thoughts are not what I need right now if I’m going to pot the ball the way Dad spent hours teaching me in the local pub as a girl. He knew the owner and would often trade work for payment in kind of beers and juice, free use of the pool table for a couple of hours.

I haven’t thought about that place for a long time. And now is not the time, as I line up my shot then nail the five ball into the middle pocket. This time, when I look back across my shoulder, I wink at Jax and as he laughs heartily, he says, “I fucking knew it. My girl doesn’t know how to do a bad job of anything.”

I wind up putting an end to Jax’s winning streak, as I stay on the table for another game with different players. Between shots, Jax pulls me between his legs, back to his chest, firm thighs pressed to my hips, as he sits on a stool. At some point, my beer is replaced with another as the guys start placing wagers on shots. The girls who couldn’t stop eye-screwing my husband when I walked into the bar have moved on to someone else, getting no traction with Jax.

It’s a weeknight. A work night, technically, and I feel as carefree as I did as a girl playing pool with her dad. I struggle to remember a time in my adult or even teenage life where life felt as still as this. As if time is suspended. Nothing matters beyond sinking a ball into a hole. Is this how normal people live?

Naturally, my bubble is burst by my phone vibrating in my pocket and when I look at the screen, it’s another missed call from my parents.

I hold up my phone to Jax. “I’m going to take this. They don’t normally call so many times.”

There’s genuine concern in his expression. “Okay. Want me to come?”

“No, I’m sure it’s nothing but I’d better check.”

Only as I step onto the sidewalk outside the bar and slide my screen to answer, Mom asks, “Did you get married?”

Holy fuck.

35

OCTOBER

Jax

The Proverbial Hits the Fan

“I don’t think you’re going to need the puppy to win her over,” Tray says, leaning on his cue at the high table next to me as he waits for his next shot.

I nod, trying to be cool, but inside, I am fucking bursting. Sienna is like a new woman tonight. The tension that’s been knife-cuttingly stark between us since we slept together is nowhere to be found. I don’t know what made her change her mind and come out tonight instead of working but I’m so damn pleased she did.

Is this what married life would be like? Hanging out together, flirting, bantering, heat undeniably passing between us? Because if I wasn’t certain before tonight, I am now.