Rascal (Rascals Book 1)(27)

“This place is amazing,” I told Emerson, who grinned at me.

“Glad you like it,” he said.

We were taken to a private table—one near the billiards tables—and given a menu.

“We’re going somewhere else for dinner,” he told me. “This is just for some snacks, drinks, and games.”

Everything on the menu looked amazing, so we ordered a few appetizers and some of their signature cocktails. Then we got down to business.

Emerson—unsurprisingly—was great at billiards. In fact, I had yet to find the thing that he wasn’t good at. And remembering what else he was good at—namely kissing and getting me off—I couldn’t help fantasizing about combining the two. I was in the middle of a very involved, very sexy fantasy about us having sex on the billiards table when Emerson interrupted.

“Your turn,” he said, holding out the cue.

“So, what’s the difference between billiards and pool?” I asked, bending over the table, trying to line up my shot.

When I didn’t get an answer, I glanced over my shoulder and found Emerson unabashedly staring at my ass. My face went red, but I was more than a little flattered. He cleared his throat when he saw that I had caught him.

“You were asking me something?” he wanted to know, apparently shameless that he had been spotted ogling me.

“The difference between billiards and pool?” I asked again, but this time giving my ass a little wiggle as I did.

He groaned, but managed to refocus his attention on the game.

“Pool is played with pockets on the table—it’s called pocket billiards—while billiards tables have no pockets.” Emerson leaned on his cue. “That’s the main difference.”

“Have a lot of experience playing billiards?” I asked.

He shrugged. “Enough. My dad likes to play.”

I made my shot. It was terrible. Apparently I was not going to discover a natural talent for billiards tonight.

“Do your parents live in Chicago?” I asked, even though I had done some of my own research on the Hayes family. It still felt weird not to ask. “You said you were from here, right?”

He nodded. “They’re around,” he said non-committedly.

Clearly they weren’t a topic of conversation he was interested in pursuing.

“Your sister too?” I remembered that he had seemed very fond of her.

I had remembered correctly as the tension that had scrunched up his shoulders when I asked about his folks seemed to disappear as he talked about his sister.

“Hayley lives in the Loop too,” he said. “Still trying to figure out what she wants to do with her life, but she’s a good kid.”

“Kid?” I asked, my eyebrow raised. “She looked like an adult to me.”

Emerson laughed. “She’ll always be my little sister, therefore she’ll always be a kid to me.”

“I’m sure she loves that,” I said, teasing him.

“She totally does,” Emerson confirmed. “She’s like a little sister to everyone in the crew—and we all spoil her rotten. No one can say no to her. Except Dante. He’s immune to her charms.”

“What does Dante do for the bar?” I wanted to know.

“He’s one of the investors,” Emerson said. “He’s a busy guy, so he’s not as involved in the day-to-day work like Chase, Sawyer, and I are, but he’s just as important to the success of the bar as anyone.”

“Chase, Sawyer, Dante, you,” I counted off my fingers. “There are five of you, though, right?”

Emerson nodded. “Liam’s our fifth. He’s our financial mastermind, but has a demanding day job so we don’t see him as much as the others. The bar is a full-time job for me and Chase, while the other guys are juggling additional work.”

“Must be nice to have so many people backing Rascals,” I observed.

“It is,” Emerson said. “We have a really good team.”

“So, you guys met when you were in college?” I asked, thinking of the photo I had seen hanging on the wall at the bar.

“Yup.” Emerson bent over the table and this time I was the one who got to check out his butt. It was a great view. “I was rooming with Chase in the dorms for a while, and at some point during the semester, he found out about this top secret poker ring that some townie was operating near the college. It was supposed to be the best game in town, so of course we wanted in. That’s where we met the other guys. Dante was the one running the game and hustling all the rich kids out of their allowances,” he added with a grin.

“He’s . . . well, let’s just say he has a colorful background. He’s from the other side of the tracks, so to speak. He’s all grit and attitude. Scary as hell if you don’t know him. One night, some frat bros started causing trouble. One of them lost, big-time, and they started throwing their weight around, threatening to bust the place, demanding their money back. We all ended up brawling, and someone called the cops. We all wound up spending the night in jail together. You could say we’ve been tight ever since.”

“That’s some bonding experience,” I laughed.

“The start of a beautiful friendship,” Emerson agreed.

We finished our game—with me losing embarrassingly—and headed back to our table to try the appetizers that had been delivered. All the food was delicious, but somehow, I couldn’t stop thinking about the grilled cheese sandwich that Emerson had made me the previous week. For whatever reason, that’s what I was craving. Or maybe it was just Emerson himself.