Page 27 of Not Your Ex's Hexes
She gently hip-checked him to the left and lined up a shot, her delectable ass less than an inch away from his hand. He clenched his fingers around his cue to keep himself from reaching out and touching it, and watched as she sunk another two balls.
And these weren’t simple shots. They required a healthy dose of skill he’d only seen on the professional circuit. In one such move,she quickly sunk her last striped ball. “And then there was one.… In which pocket would you like me to sink the eight ball?”
“Back left corner pocket.” Although he didn’t think it mattered which he chose. He was totally losing. “One thing before you beat these jeans off me…”
She paused, her cue poised to take her final turn. “And that is…?”
“Let’s go somewhere private when my pants come off… because I may be into a lot of things, but exhibitionism was never one of them.”
To the sounds of hoots and hollers at the table behind them, Rose took her shot, and sure enough, she banked it effortlessly into the left corner pocket. With a faint smirk, she leaned into his side, her mouth brushing against his ear as she whispered, “In case inquiring minds want to know, I’m a third option girl myself.”
She slowly walked to their table, high-fiving her sisters and Harper.
Game over.
She’d won—both the pool game and the mental warfare.
She’d won it all.
Pants-down.
7
Scrap Metal Jenga
Victory never tasted so sweet. It put a pep in Rose’s step as she all but bounced toward the main barn, her laptop tucked under her arm. Not that she’d enjoyed Damian’s misery for the rest of the night at Potion’s Up, but it hadn’t sucked, either. He’d alternated between grumbling and going silent, even once attempting to renegotiate the terms of her win.
Not. A. Chance. She’d been long overdue for a triumph, and was holding on to this one with both hands and a vat of superglue.
“Hello, fellas!” She waved to Miguel and Terrance, who’d stepped outside, Butternut and Squash attached to leads at their sides. “Girls…” She gave each of the mares a little muzzle-rub.
“You’re here early,” Miguel pointed out. “And rather chipper this morning.”
“And I have every right to be. Is His Royal Grumpiness here yet?”
The two men chuckled.
“Not yet,” Terrance answered. “He had an emergency house call late last night and the clinic’s first appointment isn’t until later, so he’s getting a little extra shut-eye this morning.”
“Good. Maybe the extra sleep will improve his mood… and it also gives me time to prep.”
Miguel handed Butternut’s lead to Terrance and followed herinto the office, watching as she made room on the file-ridden desk and opened her computer.
“What do you have there?” Miguel asked, curious.
“Thisis my plan to help Mari’s Sanctuary without ‘begging for money.’” Rose made herself comfortable on the squeaky office chair and loaded her presentation. “And you may want to record this for posterity because even Damian won’t find fault in it. And if he claims to, he’s lying.”
Miguel grimaced, shifting uncomfortably on his feet. “Rose, I know you mean well, but in case you haven’t noticed, Ian’s a bit of a stubborn mule when it comes to the sanctuary.”
She cocked an eyebrow. “Only about the sanctuary?”
The older man smirked. “With just about everything… which is why I know that despite your heart being in the right spot, he won’t listen.”
“Oh, he’ll listen… because despite being pigheaded, he also doesn’t strike me as the type to renege on a deal, either.”
“A deal?”
“Why are you sitting in my chair?” Damian’s deep voice rumbled, turning their heads toward the door. “At my desk?”
