The Return Of Rafe Mackade (The MacKade Brothers 1)

"My game." Rafe held out his hand for the ten dollars Jared owed him. "You're up, Dev."

"I need a beer."

" Jared's buying." Rafe grinned at his older brother. "Right, bro?"

"I bought last round."

"You lost the last game."

"So be a gracious winner. His tab," Jared told the bartender, and held up three fingers.

"Hey, what about me?"

Jared flicked a glance at Shane. The redhead was clutching his arm like a fast-growing vine. "You're driving, kid."

"Flip for it."

Obligingly, Jared took a coin from bis pocket. "Call it."

"Heads."

He flipped the coin, caught it neatly. "Tails. You're driving."

With a philosophical shrug, Shane turned back to the redhead.

"Does he have to bit on everything in a skirt?" Rafe muttered while Devin racked the balls.

"Yep. Somebody had to take up where you left off." Devin stepped back, chose his cue. "And since you're spoken for..."

"Nobody said I was spoken for." Rafe gave the curvy redhead a long look, felt nothing more than a low-level tug of basic appreciation. And thought of Regan, just thought of her and his heart shattered. "We've got an understanding." He bit the words off, but still tasted bitterness. "Nothing serious."

"He's hooked." Jared grinned and lifted his beer. "And his heart looks so pretty, right there on his sleeve."

No way he was going to take the bait, Rafe thought. It was bad enough having your heart broken without having your family watch you fumble with the pieces. "You want to eat this cue?" Rafe executed his break, smugly pleased when two balls rolled into pockets.

"She came into the house today," Devin said conversationally, "and that hook in his mouth dragged him right down the stairs like a trout on a fly. I think there were stars in his eyes, too." Devin met Rafe's steely look equably. "Yep, I'm sure of it."

"Pretty soon he's going to start shaving regular and wearing clean shirts." Jared shook his head, as if in mourning. "Then we'll know we've lost him."

"Then it'll be antique shows and ballets." Devin heaved a heavy sigh. "Poetry readings."

Because that hit entirely too close to home, Rafe jerked the cue and missed his shot. He wasn't going to think of her. Damn it, he wasn't going to give Regan or the hole in his gut a single thought. "Keep it up and I'll take both of you on."

"Well, I'm shaking." After lining up his shot, Devin leaned over the table. He made his ball cleanly. As he circled the table, he sniffed at Rafe. "That cologne, lover-boy?"

"I'm not wearing any damn—" Rafe hissed out a breath. "You're just jealous 'cause you're sleeping alone on some cot outside a cell every night."

"You got me there."

Enjoying himself, Jared plugged coins into the jukebox. "What time do you have to be home, Rafe? We wouldn't want you getting conked with a rolling pin for missing curfew."

"How long have you been a practicing ass?" It was some small satisfaction to note that Duff was shooting them uneasy glances. A man didn't like to lose his touch. "What's the fine for breaking up a couple of chairs?"

Nostalgia swam sweetly along with the beer in Dev-in's bloodstream. Unless he counted breaking his brothers up, and you could hardly count that, he hadn't been in a decent fight in years.

"Can't let you do it," he said, with mildly drunk regret. "I carry a badge."

"Take it off." Rafe grinned. "And let's beat hell out of Shane. For old times' sake."