Cherished (Steel Brothers Saga 17)

I may be able to finish the game if I can get the eight ball where it needs to be.

The first three shots are easy. The thirteen in the left side pocket, the fifteen in the right side, and then a bank off the bumper to send the nine into the far corner.

Two striped balls left. The first is easy. Straight into the side pocket with little effort.

Only two balls lie between me and victory—the twelve and the eight.

Problem is, the eight is in the path of the twelve.

I can make this shot. I’ve done it before. But do I want to beat Dale?

For God’s sake. I’ve never dumbed down in my life, and I’m not about to start now. Besides, I may miss the shot. But I’ll give it my best effort.

I lean my stick against the table for a moment and stretch my arms, intertwining my fingers and cracking my knuckles. Not the most ladylike, but I don’t care. Then I pick up my stick, replenish the chalk, and take aim.

The trick is to hit the cue ball with enough force to jump over the eight ball and propel the twelve into the pocket. If I execute it properly, the eight ball will be lined up for the same corner pocket.

Here goes nothing.

I will myself not to tremble and line up the shot. Just the right amount of pressure, and—

Crap. Too hard.

All three balls, including the cue, land in the pocket.

Scratch.

Normally a scratch gives Dale a shot from anywhere on the table.

But not this time.

Because I drove both the eight ball and the cue ball into the pocket, it’s a forfeit.

Dale wins.

He wins after pocketing only three of his balls, while I pocketed six of mine. Seven, if you count the twelve that went in with the eight and the cue.

“Nice job, cuz.” Henry pats Dale’s shoulder.

Dale doesn’t smile. He doesn’t say thank you to Henry. He only shoots more daggers.

I raise my eyebrows. How can he still be angry with me? He won, for God’s sake. Two games in a row.

“I want a rematch,” he says to me.

My jaw drops. “Why? You won. Why would you want a—”

“A forfeit doesn’t count. It’s not a win.”

“Official rules say otherwise, bro,” Brendan says.

“Fuck the official rules,” Dale says. “We’re playing again.”

“Maybe I won’t play,” I say adamantly. Though I have no reason not to play.

Brock steps up then. “I’m playing. I said I’d take the winner. Remember?”

“You can take the next winner,” Dale says, his voice more even-toned than his demeanor suggests.

“He can take this winner,” I say, handing Brock my stick. “And that’s you.”

I turn, trying my best to remain composed, and head back to a bar stool. I sit next to Talon, who smiles.

“What happened to you?” I ask.

“Accident in the orchards today.”

Looks like a punch to the face to me, but I won’t press it. “I’m sorry.”

“Nothing that hasn’t happened before,” he says. Then, “Don’t let Dale get to you. He doesn’t like to take the easy way out of anything.”

“But he won fair and square. I screwed up the shot.”

“It was a hard shot.”

“I’ve made shots like that before. I didn’t do it on purpose.”

“Of course you didn’t. That’s not what he’s thinking.”

“I’m not the kind of woman who does that kind of thing.”

“No one thinks that.” He signals Maryanne, the bartender. “You want something?” he asks me.

I shake my head. “I had two glasses of wine with dinner. I’m fine, thanks.”

He nods and orders a Peach Street bourbon. He takes a sip and then turns back to me. “Did you and Jade have a nice time last night? I hear Lisa’s place is something special.”

My cheeks grow red-hot. My dinner with Jade. How much does Jade tell her husband?

Does he know how I feel about his son?

I look down at the wooden floor, hoping a giant hole will open up so I can hurl myself in.

No such luck.

Finally, I reply, “It was nice. The food was great.”

“I like Italian. Darla doesn’t make it very much. My sister makes great Italian, though.”

“She’s a chef, right?”

“Yeah. Marjorie. Married to Bryce.” He gestures to the silver-haired man sitting a few chairs down.

“Right. Henry’s dad.”

“Yes. You’re doing great. In no time you’ll be able to pick all of us out of a crowd.”

“Does Marjorie work at a restaurant?” I ask.

Talon shakes his head. “It was always her dream, but with four kids, she decided to concentrate on her family and let the rest of us sample her amazing cooking.”

“It’s a shame she never got to live out her dream.”

“Who says she hasn’t?”

“Well, you just said…”

“Once she married Bryce and adopted Henry, she got pregnant about a day later with David. Two years later, she got pregnant again with the twins.”

“That’s a lot of kids close in age.”

“It is, but my sis is a great mom.”