Page 105 of One Last Encore

She straightened, victorious, the cue resting on her shoulder like a sword forged in the fires of petty vengeance. "Looks like I win."

"Absolutely robbed," Beck groaned. "I demand a rematch, a formal investigation, and maybe a sage to cleanse the table. Something was clearly interfering with my chi."

She smirked, leaning casually on the cue. "You weren’t robbed. You were annihilated. Eviscerated. Reduced to atoms."

Beck crossed his arms. "I’ll give you this one… but only because you look so damn pleased with yourself."

"Admit it," she said. "I’m better than you."

He raised a brow. "You just had a lucky night."

She gasped, feigning outrage. "Lucky? That was skill. Precision. I played that table like a damn violin."

He snorted. "Oh please, you were one bad bounce away from knocking the eight ball into the nachos."

"And yet," she said, tilting her head, "here we are. Nachos untouched. But your ego? Slightly bruised."

"You’re never going to let me live this down, are you?"

"Oh, sweetie," she said, stepping closer with a grin, "I’m going to recreate it in oil pastels. Maybe interpretive dance. There will be puppets."

His laugh burst out, loud and unrestrained. God, that laugh. There was something about it, something that cracked her open a little. Like the sound alone could pull her back to who she was with him. She’d forgotten how much she loved it. How much shefeltit.

He caught her gaze and grinned, cocky as ever. "You know, if you wanted me to flirt with you, you didn’t have to destroy my pride in my favorite jazz club."

She shrugged nonchalantly. "Where’s the fun in that?"

"…You are going to use puppets, though?"

"Oh, absolutely. Hand-stitched. With tiny pool cues and everything."

Beck groaned. "I should’ve just bitten your ear again."

She gave him a withering look. "Do it, and I’ll snap your cue stick in half and use it as modern art."

He tilted his head. "Performance piece?"

"Interactive exhibit," she said with a too-sweet smile. "Audience encouraged to laugh and throw popcorn."

He grinned, stepping closer, slowly taking the cue stick from her hands. His fingers brushed hers. It was a fleeting touch, but it sent a spark up her arm, electric and sudden.

"Come on, champ," he murmured, sliding the cue back into the rack. "We’ve got more stops to make."

She narrowed her eyes. "If this ends with you reclaiming your honor in a laser tag arena, I’m all in."

"No lasers," he said. "Just trust."

That was somehow even more suspicious.

The night air hit them as they stepped outside. Cool and crisp, filled with the hum of neon lights and late-night wanderers. Beck raised a hand and flagged a cab.

She slid in beside him, still trying to figure out what kind of madness he was planning.

"You gonna give me a hint?"

"Nope."

"A clue?"

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