What a Bachelor Needs (Bachelor Auction Book 4)(29)

“Too late.”

“Then stay where I can see you.” He looked down at her still shaking hands and then back up at her face. “What else happened?”

She tucked her turncoat hands beneath her arms. “Nothing. Just old business of mine that sometimes comes along for the ride.” Reese had never asked her about her marriage, but he knew her history in the same way that Ella knew it, and Jason Grey had known it when she’d turned up at his bar newly pregnant, newly single, and sporting fresh bruises. She’d been replying to the waitstaff wanted poster in the window. She’d never waited a table before in her life, but Jason had taken her on when so many others had turned her away, and kept her on while she’d learned how to do the job. “You know how I get on occasion. Doesn’t have anything to do with the here and now. I can deal with it.”

Reese looked as if he wanted to argue.

“I can do my job, Reese.”

“Stay where I can see you. I mean it.”

Picking up an empty tray, Mardie nodded and set off to collect empty glasses from her side of the bar. Carla was working the other side of the room with her usual panache. Carla had great legs and a sway in her stride that people tipped well for. They met at booth four and Carla transferred her lone empty glass to Mardie’s tray. “You need a hand on your side? I’m all caught up over here.”

“Table seven might be ready for more drinks.”

“What about the bikers? They getting any more drinks?”

“They’ve got another order in. The drinks are going down a little too fast for Reese’s liking. He’s called for reinforcements.”

“Yay.” She and Carla exchanged glances.

“Shall we try corn chip persuasion before the testosterone gets here?” Mardie suggested. “Many a battle has been averted by corn chips.”

So true.

They filled a dozen or so baskets and started delivering them to the booths and tables at the front of the bar and then to the bikers. The atmosphere grew friendlier. People liked freebies.

“Sorry about the wait,” she said to the big biker boss as she cleared the glasses from around him. “We’re tapping a new keg for you.”

“Does the vodka need tapping too?”

Okay, point for him, but still… corn chips. Mardie looked around, trying to gauge the average level of impatience and her gaze landed on the pool table. They were just finishing a game. All the colored balls were gone and, yep, there went the black. “Some of your boys are pretty good at that.”

He smiled lazily. “Like I said, feel free to join in.”

“Fair warning.” She tried for light and flirty and almost managed it. “I’m the resident pool shark around here. Unless, of course, my father comes in. That man can thread a nine ball through a needle.”

“That so?”

“It is. Who’s your best player?”

The leader nodded towards an older man wearing fringed leather and a black bandanna. “You can call him Dog.”

“How about we see if he wants to play me?”

Dog looked her up and down impassively and then looked to his leader. “What’s the bet?”

Mardie had one in mind. “If I win, you and your boys ease off on the drinks – for the comfort of my manager and his liquor license – and you have a quiet, friendly night.”

“And if you lose?”

“The drinks keep coming.”

The leader smiled. It wasn’t a nice smile. “Play,” he said.

Someone handed her a pool cue but it wasn’t the one that she wanted. She handed it back and took a different cue from a bald guy with bright blue eyes and a wide, white grin.

“Anyone want to bet against the house for the win?” she said into the ensuing silence, and fished in her apron for one of the hundred dollar notes they’d given her in tips.

May as well get something out of this besides heart failure if she ended up in the middle of a situation she couldn’t control. But they were okay, these bikers. Heavy drinkers and definitely in the wrong bar… but otherwise okay.

She hoped.

Mardie looked towards the bar to find Reese now standing in front of it, with his arms crossed and his mouth grim.

None of their reinforcements had arrived yet.

She sent him a silent grimace of apology and then took her time chalking the cue and examining it for straightness. She slid her hands over her hips, wishing for a couple of extra inches of skirt. They wouldn’t be looking at her legs for long anyway. If Mardie had her way, all eyes would soon be on the table.

She took this game seriously.

She lined up for the break and let her muscles settle into old, familiar patterns. Let the tension go in her shoulders, her hands steady now that she had something to focus on. The break was good and she pocketed a solid but she didn’t want solids. “I want stripes,” she said. You want me to call them all or only when it’s not blindingly obvious?” she asked.

“Call ’em all,” the leader said. “Entertain us.”

“Green in the corner pocket,” she said as she sank the shot. “I had one of my pool playing heroes run the table on me once. I made it my mission in life to be able to do the same. Of course, I’m rusty these days so I can’t promise that’ll happen, but I’ll give it my best shot. Number thirteen in the side pocket. I want to kiss the cue ball off the four.”