Not Husband Material (Billionaire's Contract Duet 1)

Cole raised the glass to his lips and took a sip. I mirrored his actions. Every time he took a sip, I took a sip. I kept stealing looks at him behind the safety of my margarita glass. Within five minutes, my second margarita was history. My head felt slightly fuzzy, but my whole body was tingling from the tequila.

A third margarita didn’t seem like a good idea, but I looked at the clock hanging above the row of liquor bottles. It was only ten o’clock. I debated ordering another drink from Hank when I felt a tap on my shoulder.

“My buddy and I were wondering if you play pool.”

A guy, who was so lean his T-shirt swallowed him, smiled a toothy grin. His friend stood next to him holding two pool cues.

“I’m not much of a pool player.” I fidgeted on the barstool.

“We can teach you. I’m Lance and this here’s my buddy, Cal.” They each tipped the brims of their cowboy hats. There was no mistaking it. They were local Texas boys.

I waited for Cole to say something. To cut in and tell me he didn’t want me hanging out with other guys in the bar, but he stared at his beer.

I twisted my lips together. “All right. I’ll give it a try, but only if you promise not to laugh when I completely whiff on my first try.” I took the stick from Lance.

“We wouldn’t do that.” Lance’s smile was genuine.

“I’m Kaitlyn, by the way.”

Over the corner of Cal’s shoulder, I saw Cole. His eyes held mine with startling intensity. I was afraid that if I blinked, it would give him just enough leverage to see right into my thoughts. For a second, my knees went a little wobbly and my cheeks rushed with heat. Too many margaritas, Kaitlyn. I smiled at him, aware at how glad I was he had finally noticed me.

“Ready to play?” Lance’s insistence shattered the trance. I hopped off the stool, wondering why Cole stared at me like that, and why it sent every nerve in my body into overdrive.

I returned their smiles. “Yep. Teach away.”

Regaining control of my senses, I followed them to a pool table. I leaned into the pool cue to steady myself as Cal and Lance argued about who was going to hit first. Knowing I had more distance from Cole, I peeked around the wall the guys made with their bodies. That look still had me distracted and curious. I watched as Cole threw a few bills on the bar and walked out of the double doors of Peabody’s. I exhaled and tried to settle my body back to its normal state.

Lance grabbed the rack, and lined the inside of the tray with the stripe and solid-colored balls. “You’ve really never played pool before?”

“No, I haven’t. I guess that does seem kind of weird.”

“As long as you aren’t trying to hustle us.” He laughed.

“I guess you’ll just have to wait and see, boys,” I teased, knowing I was blowing a lot of smoke.

“Whoa, Lance. Sounds like she’s already challenging us.” Cal leaned over the table with the stick cradled along the ridge of his thumb. He swiftly shot the stick forward breaking the triangle and scattering the balls around the table.

“We’re trying to teach her how to play, not how to embarrass herself.” Lance was having fun taunting his friend.

“Go ahead, pool master. If you think that was so bad, show us how it’s done.” Cal stepped to the side and took a swig of his beer. He was slightly shorter than Lance, but with a stocky frame. I could easily imagine him as a running back.

Lance’s eyes squinted into a thin line, and I saw him bite down on the side of his tongue while he lined up his shot. “Seven ball in that corner and the two over there.”

“Now you’re just showing off for our guest.” Cal crossed his arms.

Lance jutted the stick forward and made the two shots from the impact of one hit. “And that’s how it’s done. Want to bet me on the next one, Cal?”

So, this is probably why I never played pool. Two strokes in and my new hosts were ready to gamble.

Cal winked at me from under his hat. “He is definitely trying to impress you.”

I smiled, but tried to ignore the comments and what Cal was insinuating. I wasn’t interested in Lance l

ike that. Both of the boys were sweet, but playing pool was enough for me.

After three rounds, I mastered enough of a stroke to sink a few shots. Cal and Lance were fun to hang out with. I learned that they attended the local community college, and spent much of the graduation season at Lance’s parents’ beach house. They had been best friends since the age of five. I also learned Cal was short for Calhoun, a family name that had been passed down for four generations.

“Looks like we taught Carolina here how to play eight ball.” Lance slapped his friend on the back before taking a sip from a longneck bottle.