I Bet You(48)

Archer turns back around, his eyes shifting from me to Connor, an expression of satisfaction on his sharp face. He lifts his drink in my direction; I give him the middle finger.





Penelope



Connor takes me home later in his sparkling silver Mercedes-Benz G-class SUV, which is as solid and practical as he is. I hadn’t realized he was rich, but after a few questions I discovered he comes from a long line of wealthy cotton farmers in Tennessee—who also happen to own pool halls. Weird, but then admittedly I hadn’t known much about him at all except for what I’d observed from afar. He also informed me that he wants to be a video game designer, which didn’t fit at all with my image of him as a doctor or lawyer, but I guess you never really know someone until you spend a couple of hours with them at Cadillac’s.

The sleek leather interior inside the luxury car is spotless, without books or football jerseys or the scent of sexy man. A collection of chess pieces hangs from his rear-view mirror. The inside smells just like him, that sharp twang of cologne I remember from prep school. I glance over and half expect him to be wearing a pink Polo shirt with the collar popped, but instead, he’s sporting his usual jeans and a Waylon shirt. He’s taken his cap off though.

I’m quiet on the ride. I can’t keep my mind from turning to Ryker and how he left me with Connor.

We’re destined to never be anything but friends.

“Your mind is a million miles away,” Connor says as he turns down the street to my house.

I look over at him and study the curve of his face. He really is handsome.

“Ever heard of Twilight, Connor?”

He grimaces and huffs out a derisive laugh. “Who hasn’t? I dated a girl who was huge into romance books. Pretty much a waste of time.”

I cock my head. “Why’s that?”

“Skews your view of love. Everybody knows that. There’s no perfect hero. And the sex is not even close to how it really is.”

“Romance doesn’t skew. It broadens your horizons.”

“Seriously?” He laughs but then sobers when he sees the expression on my face.

“I want to be a romance writer someday. No, I take that back—I will be a writer.”

He eyes me warily. “Oh, shit. Sorry.”

“Yeah. Out of curiosity, if I asked you to watch Twilight, would you?”

He smirks. “Truth?”

“Of course.”

He throws me an eyebrow waggle. “Only if I knew I was getting something at the end.”

“I don’t think I know you at all,” I say musingly.

“But I’m looking forward to getting to know you, Penelope.” His voice is soft, and his eyes leave the road briefly to drift over to my face. “I mean, the night’s still young if you want to watch that movie of yours…” He grins at me.

I don’t smile back.

Instead, I look down and study my clasped hands. By now, I’m sure my lipstick has faded, so I pull out my tube and reapply. I inhale a deep breath, gearing up. “There’s something I have to tell you.”

He glances at me. “What’s that?”

“I lied about playing pool. I don’t know a pool cue from a fishing rod. In fact, I’m probably a much better fisherman. I wouldn’t know what an eight ball was if I didn’t have the big one that tells your future when you shake it. I lied because I was nervous, and I wanted you to like me. In retrospect, it was stupid, and I’m sorry I misled you.” I let out a huge breath I didn’t even know I was holding. “Damn that feels good.”

His eyes flare, and he’s silent as he pulls up to my house and puts the car in park. The vehicle idles at the curb as the silence between us swells. I can tell he’s gathering himself.

“I’ve shocked you.”

He stares out the front windshield and rakes a hand through his hair. “That’s a lot to take in.”

“I don’t advocate lying. I didn’t plan to do it, but when you asked me about pool, I wanted to impress you. I’ve always thought you were studious and just my type…” I stop. I’m rambling.

He turns the car off and turns to face me. “Okay.”

I take another breath. “And I hit you with that ball tonight. Actually, it was the first time I’ve even picked up a pool stick, so it’s no wonder I nearly killed you. God, you should have seen that white ball flying through the air…it just zeroed in on you, like fate was trying to tell me something. I really thought it was going to hit you in your man parts.”

He pales.

“I mean, thank God it didn’t.” A small laugh comes out of me. “Ryker really wanted me to learn how to play…” I bite my lip.

Connor shakes his head and adjusts his glasses, looking befuddled. He pauses. “Do you even like Elvis?”

“Not particularly.”

He grimaces.

“Yeah. I suck.” I exhale, my fingers undoing my seat belt. “Anyway, I’m really sorry, and I completely understand if you never speak to me again. We do have class together, but I won’t be offended if you just ignore me and keep on walking.” I smile wryly at him.

He frowns. “I would have liked you anyway.”

“Again, I’m sorry.” I put my hand on the door handle. “Thank you for the ride.” I take a deep breath and get out of the car, shutting the door.