Until Then (Cape Harbor 2)

When Graham would return to the table for a refresher, Rennie would flirt heavily, and Graham would reciprocate. Their chemistry was automatic, and it made the other women swoon when he winked at Rennie. He checked in often and leaned down to whisper in her ear each time to ask if she was enjoying herself. She was having a blast, and it was the truth. She couldn’t think of any other place she’d rather be.

When it was Rennie and Graham’s turn at the pool table, she slowly rose from her seat. Graham must’ve noticed her wobble and was by her side instantly to help her. “Are you okay to play?”

“It’s these damn shoes.” She slipped them off and set them on her chair. Renee Wallace would’ve balked at walking around a bar barefoot, and honestly, Rennie should’ve as well. But there was no way she was going to let Graham down. They’d lost their first game, and there was no way they’d lose their second.

They were facing two guys this time. Friends from college, they had said, which brought back a slew of memories for Rennie and Graham. They often ran the tables in bars to earn money while in California; they’d had hundreds to choose from and would rarely go back to the same bar more than twice. People always caught on quickly to what they were doing and wouldn’t play them, so there was no use in returning.

One of the frat guys broke and knocked down two solids and two stripes. The teams each quietly talked strategy. Graham wanted the frat boys to take the solids because he saw better angles on the stripes, and Rennie agreed.

“We’re going solids,” the kid yelled out. Graham squeezed Rennie’s hand in elation. She was going to shoot first, and if all went well, they’d finish with Graham sinking the eight ball. The first guy missed, and Rennie stepped up to the table. Somewhere behind her, someone catcalled. She tossed her hand into the air and flipped off whoever thought being rude was okay.

Rennie bent slightly to check the angles before she set her stick down on her hand. She moved the cue back and forth, slow and steady, until she was confident in her decision-making. The two balls touched, and her striped ball headed straight for the pocket. One down. She moved to the next and then the next, and so on. Each time Graham was by her side, working through moves with her. Their last shot was difficult, as they had suspected, and she did her best to block the other team.

The college guys were straight-up players. They weren’t hustlers like Graham and Rennie, and when they took their shot, they slammed the cue ball into the pile to break it up. These men had no strategy whatsoever. It was Graham’s turn, and Rennie coached him. They were a team. They were determined to win. He took his shot, sinking their last playable ball, leaving only the eight. He wouldn’t fail; unlike their first game, they wanted to win and run the table. With no hesitation in his stroke, he sank the black ball and turned in time to catch Rennie when she jumped into his arms. She went to kiss him, almost as if doing so should be a natural reaction for them, but he dodged her lips, and she was only able to brush his cheek.

Graham stepped away and went to the end of the pool table. He pulled out the rack and started placing the balls in order, and Rennie went to the other end to prepare to break. She sized up their opponents. Another couple, which didn’t matter, because Rennie and Graham were going to take care of them easily. They did, along with the couple after them, the college boys again, and so on. For the rest of the night, the friends visiting from Cape Harbor ran the pool table at the bar in Friday Harbor.

They had either lost count of how many pitchers they’d drunk or the empty ones on their table weren’t theirs, and at some point during the evening, they stopped ordering food. Rennie and Graham were having fun. They were laughing, flirting, and being very handsy with each other—and probably a little inappropriate. Neither of them seemed to care, and they really didn’t care what others around them thought.

After they won their last game, Graham asked if Rennie was ready to go. It was eleven thirty, the bar had become packed, and honestly, she wanted to go back to the boat. They bid farewell to their new friends and made their way to the exit. When they finally stepped outside, Graham scooped her up into his arms and carried her toward the marina.

“I can walk.”

“Why walk when I can carry you?” Rennie wrapped her arms around his shoulders and nestled her head in the crook of his neck. She imagined what life would be like with Graham if they were ever to give in and try being more than friends. They could do the long-distance-relationship thing flawlessly. She’d rather be in Cape Harbor most of the time anyway, and she figured she could work Fridays and Mondays from his home and be in the office three days a week unless she had a court case. No one would be surprised if they started dating either. Their relationship would be natural and long overdue.