Twenty-Nine and a Half Reasons
Page 66

He slid closer, resting his hand on my shoulder. “How about I go easy on you. There’s more stripes left on the table. I’ll let you have solids.”
Hunching over the table, I rested the cue on the ledge, lining it up with the white ball and a red ball behind it, aiming for the pocket. I stared down the length of the stick and slid it between my fingers like I’d watched Skeeter do. Then I pulled and hit it, the white ball smacking the red ball and shooting it into the pocket. I stood up with a grin.
“I believe you’ve been holding out on me, Jane.”
I lifted my eyebrows.
“What do you say we make this more interestin’?”
“What do you mean?”
“I’m a wagerin’ man. Let’s wager on the game.”
Skeeter was a wagering man. Ten to one he knew the bookie that Frank Mitchell owed money to. Still, it was a fool’s bet. And I didn’t even know what was at risk. “Not a chance.”
He turned his back to the table and crossed his arms across his chest. “Scared?”
I put a hand on my hip and jutted it out. “My momma didn’t raise no fool.” Where did that come from? Damn beer.
He chuckled sliding closer. “You don’t even know what the wager is yet.”
I rolled my eyes. “I don’t need to. We both know I made a lucky shot. I’ve got no chance of winnin’ against you.”
“What if I played you with one hand behind my back?”
“Why would I do that? What am I gonna win?” More important, what was I going to lose?
His eyebrow waggled. “What do you want?”
I swallowed my instinctive gag. Not you. But I knew what I wanted. I just didn’t know how to go about asking for it without giving myself away. “You know, when Susan—I mean Sasha—and I were coming here tonight, we wanted to try new things. You know. Playin’ pool and…” I lowered my gaze and glanced up through my eyelashes. “Placing a bet,” I whispered. “I heard you could do that here.”
A wicked grin spread across his face. He licked his top lip. “I can help you with that.”
“And if you win?”
Reaching up his hand, nice and slow as though I was a wild animal that might run away, he brushed the hair off my shoulder and looked into my eyes. “A kiss.”
I shook my head with a frown. “No way. I don’t even know you.”
“You’ll know me better after you kiss me.”
Crappy doodles. Why had I played my hand already? Now that he knew I wanted to place a bet, the only way he was gonna help me was if I accepted his wager. And as sure as Miss Mildred would complain about Muffy peeing in the front yard, Skeeter, the wagering man, didn’t make bets he knew he’d lose. I was between a rock and a hard place.
Stupid beer.
I scanned the room looking one last time for Neely Kate and spotted a clock by the bar. 8:35. I had to accept the fact that she wasn’t coming. I was in this alone.
I was so close…
Lifting my chin, I gave him my sternest glare. “I want a practice game first. Then I’ll decide if I want to accept your wager.”
With a wink, he stepped away from me. “It only seems fair. It’s still your turn. I’ll even make it easy for you. You don’t have to call which pocket the ball goes in before you shoot. That’s one of the rules.”
“So why are you breakin’ it?”
“Trying to increase my odds of gettin’ you to accept my wager.”
Not a chance. “Well, aren’t you the gentleman?”
He laughed loud and long. “Most definitely not.”
I turned my attention to the pool table, focusing on the balls spread across the green felt. It was shooting balls into holes. How hard could it be? I found a blue one close to a hole but other balls were between it and the white.
His voice lowered. “I’ll help you if you want.”
“I don’t need your help.”
He laughed again.
My hand began to tremble and I grabbed my beer bottle, drinking a gulp as I circled the pool table. Go home, Rose. Don’t do this. But I wasn’t in any real danger. There were other decent people playing pool. Skeeter couldn’t do anything harmful to me in public. I just wouldn’t agree to his wager and I’d be safe. Plus, I found a clear shot with the white ball and a green one.
Skeeter leaned his hip against the other side of the table. “So what do you want to bet on?”
Lining up my cue with the ball, I concentrated on the table. Maybe I wouldn’t need his wager after all. “I dunno. What can I bet on?”
“You don’t even know what you want to bet on? Then why do you want to place a bet at all?”
Unsure how to answer, I stalled and took my shot. The white ball hit the green one but the green one missed the hole. I looked up at him. “It’s kind of one of those bucket list things. But I was supposed to do it with my friend, Susan. I guess she stood me up.”
“I thought her name was Sasha.”
My breath stuck. “Oh, yeah…it is. Silly me. Susan’s her sister…Her twin sister.” I was proud of myself. That sounded convincing.
Skeeter moved around the table toward the white ball and I scooted the opposite direction.
“So what an I bet on?”
He didn’t try to hide his amusement. “Pretty much anything. Sports. Horses. The Oscars.”
“Um, sports.”