The Closer You Come (The Original Heartbreakers, #1)(71)

She called one of his shots “pathetic” and he said, “You’ll have to forgive me if I’m not as talented as you are at handling shafts.”

She’d blustered before gritting out, “Did my opinion bother you? Well, you should have heard the things I kept to myself!”

“What’s the difference between what you’re saying and a knife? A knife has a point.”

Finally, Jase led Brook Lynn outside, where the moon glowed romantically and the stars sparkled like diamonds. The perfect setting. The scent of salt water blended with strawberries, roses and magnolias, delighting her further.

She removed her sandals and sat at the edge of the pool then dipped her feet into the warmth of the water. He claimed the spot right next to her, leaving only the slightest of gaps between them, surprising her.

“What is going on with West?” she asked. “Is he always this mean when he drinks?”

He looked uneasy before saying, “It’s a bad time of year for him.”

“And he’s decided to take it out on my sister?”

“Appears so.”

“But why?”

“Who knows? He’s been different with women ever since he lost Tessa.”

Tessa. The one Brook Lynn was planning the GED celebration for. “Lost? As in...she died?”

“Yeah.”

How sad. “He loved her?”

“More than life.”

Well, it wasn’t an excuse for his behavior, but it sure did break her heart. “I think he’s a great guy and all, but I will never be okay with him hating on my sister. And if he does it again, I will get a little Dillon girl revenge.”

Jase gave a mock shudder. “Sounds scary.”

“You have no idea.”

“Let’s forget about those two for the moment.” He pulled a cigar from his pocket, cut off and lit the end then handed it to her. “For you.”

Another item from her list. “Thank you, Mr. Loser.”

“You’re welcome, Miss Con. But I have a feeling you’ll soon be cursing my name.”

“Why? A little smoke can’t be that bad. I didn’t react to West’s cigar.”

She puffed on the cigar—and promptly choked.

Laughing, he stubbed out the cigar and set it aside then handed her a bottle of whiskey. “Any item on the list you check off without me will have to be repeated with me.”

When the taste of ash lingered, she took a shot and wished she’d died. That horrible burn had returned!

“Consider this punishment for the hustle,” Jase said.

As the inside of her chest cooled, she said, “You deserved it. I never lose,” she mocked. “I could have killed you at poker, too.”

He bumped her with his shoulder. She turned toward him, her gaze seeking his in the darkness. He was so close...if he just leaned in a little more...

Someone flipped on the back porch light. Gold suddenly spilled over him, adding a layer of mystery to features already suffused with raw masculinity. As smoke curled around him, creating a dreamlike haze, her need for him redoubled, shivering through her.

“I owe you six favors,” he said, his voice tighter than before. “What is it, exactly, that you’re going to want from me?”

How about...everything? Though, technically, he owed her and Jessie Kay, which made her want to dump the favors ASAP. “Help me get my tattoo, and we’ll call it even.”

He looked her over, his eyelids seeming to grow heavy. “Where are you going to put this tattoo?”

She took another swig of liquid courage before saying, “My shoulder. And neck,” she added. “I want a vine of flowers. Wild strawberries.”

He confiscated the bottle and set it out of her reach. “I’ll take you to a guy who did a few of mine. He’s good.”

“Really good.” She traced her fingertip up his arm, following the lines of several expert etchings. Can’t help myself. Along the way, she encountered two areas of scar tissue, thick and raised, both a few inches long, though not very wide. “You were injured.” Shrapnel?

He hesitated. “Yes,” he finally said, his voice tight...but also husky with need. “I like when you touch me.”

She shivered. Finally they were getting somewhere. “That makes two of us.” He’d once accused her of adding crack to her casseroles, but she thought it might just lace his skin. When she wasn’t touching him, she wanted to touch him. And when her hands were actually on him, she wanted them everywhere all at once.

He picked her up by the waist, and she had to straddle his lap for balance. The move did more than thrill her physically. It told her beyond any doubt that they weren’t over, not by a long shot, and she eagerly pressed into him.

Playing with the ends of his hair, she said, “Thank you for my lessons today.”

“Who taught you to play?” He flicked her hair over one shoulder, but she quickly brought it back into place. He frowned then tried to flick it again, but again, she moved it to cover her ears. She might have let him kiss around the devices in the heat of passion, but after their abysmal finish she wasn’t going to make that mistake again.

“My uncle taught me,” she said, some of her old resentment rising up. “He had a new lesson for Jessie Kay and me every time he babysat us, before my mom died. But since he always kept whatever allowance he won, we learned fast.”