Page 5 of Love of the Game
“A little. One of the guys has a table in his house and sometimes…” I waved my hand, because it hurt to think about those get-togethers. Those parties. I just been celebrating Thanksgiving with the Lions. Christmas was around the corner, and I was…here. In the middle of nowhere. At a bar. With no friends or teammates around me.
Jon tapped my foot again, and those deep dark eyes met mine, with all their sparkle and the laugh lines. “Come on. I’m absolutely horrible. It’ll be fun! You can laugh at me.”
I sighed. I should go back to the hotel, but I hadn’t even finished my beer. “Okay. A game.” I asked Ella for a glass of water to go with my beer, and we headed back to the table.
Jon was being honest about his skill at pool. His break shot—well—it didn’t really do much other than move the balls a little bit from their original racked position.
“Hmm,” he said. “Maybe we should try that again and you break?”
We did, and I managed a reasonable break shot. Jon potted a solid ball, and I managed two easy stripes. Then we took turns missing shots or sending balls wild or knocking each other’s into the pockets. Jon was hilarious, chattering away with a running commentary about his shots, his expressions and exasperation at his inability to sink the balls was comical, and his smile was pure sunlight.
Despite being not great at pool, I won easily, and by the end, I’d finished my beer and my water, and even felt some of the weight of the day lifting off me.
As we headed back to the bar, I hazarded a light pat on his back. “Thanks for the game.”
“And the beer,” he said.
When I started to protest, he waved that away. “On the house, don’t you worry. The owner’s a bit of a jerk, though. Don’t tell him.” Then he winked. Actually winked at me.
An actual chuckle squeaked out of me. “I won’t.” Ipaused by where we’d been sitting—the bikers were still there, talking—and faced Jon. “Was that a date?”
“Ha!” He clapped me on the shoulder. “Come back tomorrow night and ask me that.”
So maybe yes, maybe no. But it felt like that chance was better, now.
Maybe this place wouldn’t be horrible after all.
CHAPTER 2
JON
I pondered the door to the bar Drake Williams had left through, and wondered what the others thought of the center the Lions had sent down for us to un-fuck. And contemplated how I wanted to fuck him.
Such a bad idea, but oh, I bet it would be a such agoodtime.
“He’s going to kill you tomorrow,” Ella said. “Though, I can’t believe he didn’t recognize you.”
I shrugged. “Oh, come on. It’s not like I’m famous, or even well known outside of the area.” Sure, I was the captain of the Otters, but that and a dollar would get me a really crappy hot dog on dollar dog nights at the arena.
“Jonny.” Red Dog rotated on his stool, which set his leather jacket creaking. “That kid is trouble. He’s not gonna help you boys at all.”
I rolled his words around in my head. Red Dog was the president of the Night Bones MC. I wasn’t a member of any club, but Red Dog hadn’t gotten to his position by lacking intelligence, so I respected and listened, as one should to elders.
“No, you’re right, he’s not here to help. We’re supposed to help him. That’s why he was sent down.” I sat on the stool next to him and his deputy, Merrick, and broke one of my own rules—started talking hockey in the bar. Red Dog would understand, though. This was a serious talk, not bar chatter. “He’s got skills, obviously. We all saw what he did his first two years.”
“Crashed and burned this year,” Red Dog said. “You think he can come back from that?”
I rocked my head, trying to decide if that was true. “It’s still early enough in the season. Bearsy says the kid’s trying too hard. All the issues are up here.” I tapped my head.
“Oh lord,” Ella muttered. “And they sent him toyouto fix?”
Merrick chuckled and took a swig of his beer.
“Oh, come on, I’m not that bad.”
Ella lifted one eyebrow and stared at me. Red Dog side-eyed me.
“I’m not!”
