CHAPTER FOUR
“NUMBER FIVE IN THE SIDE POCKET.” Teague pulled back his right arm, then punched the cue stick forward to send the cue ball spinning into the five ball. The five ball went straight but hit the pocket hard and bounced back, to the delight of his playing partner, Griggs.
“Teague, man, I might actually beat you tonight. What’s up?”
Teague walked over to where he’d set his beer, thoroughly pissed off that he couldn’t get Samantha Stone out of his mind after their impromptu reunion today. “Nothing.” He tilted up his longneck.
“It’s that woman, isn’t it?” Griggs pressed, then made his shot with little effort. “The one you dropped in the mud.”
He and Griggs both still wore their work clothes—dirty jeans and shirts, mud-caked lace-up work boots that bore no resemblance to the trendy versions that so many people wore these days trying to look hip.
“No,” Teague lied.
“Sure it is,” Griggs said cheerfully, then sunk anotherball. “Why’d you do it? I’ve never seen you be disrespectful to a woman on the job.”
Teague’s mouth tightened. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
Griggs whistled low. “Man, she sure was a looker, wasn’t she?”
He frowned. “I didn’t notice.”
“What, are you flippin’ blind? The woman was stacked like a—”
“Just play, would you?” Teague took another swallow of beer, hoping it would banish the sour taste in his mouth. He had thought that humiliating Samantha Stone would give him a feeling of vindication for the way she’d treated him when they were younger, but it had left him feeling strangely unfulfilled. Dropping the woman in the mud when she damned well deserved it didn’t begin to make up for the way she had cut him to the core.
“Speak of the devil,” Griggs said with a laugh, leaning on his cue stick and nodding toward the door.
Teague turned his head and suddenly had trouble swallowing his mouthful of beer. Samantha Stone walked into the bar, overdressed and looking considerably cleaner than the last time he’d seen her. His heart beat a tattoo against his chest—he’d never seen her in here before. Chances were, her appearance wasn’t a coincidence.
As he watched, she leaned toward the bar, giving the customers who were looking—and many were—a nice view of her curvy behind while she said somethingto the bartender. The bartender nodded, then pointed toward the pool tables and, more specifically, toward Teague.
“Oh, shit,” he murmured.
“She’s coming over here,” Griggs said, then elbowed him hard. “She must be looking for you.”
Teague frowned. “Shut up and take your turn.”
But Griggs was right—Samantha had spotted him and had made a beeline in his direction.
He took another draw from his bottle, his mind racing with reasons why she’d hunted him down. To apologize for breaking his stupid heart all those years ago? To tell him that she was wrong for making him feel like he was important for a few illicit hours, only to slam him back into his place the next morning?
She walked up to him and seemed to hesitate, then her chest rose with an inhale. “Hi.”
He studied her glittering blue eyes and acknowledged her with a nod.
She looked around awkwardly. “I, um, was told I could find you here.”
He shrugged. “I’m here more often than not, I suppose.”
She shifted in her designer shoes, looking hopelessly out of place in her elegantly draped slacks and filmy blouse next to the more casual clothing of everyone else in the bar. Her silky blond hair was pulled back in a low ponytail and he suddenly longed to see it swinging free.
“I was hoping we could talk,” she said, her voice stronger.
He lifted his beer for a drink, buying time. “About what?”
She glanced at Griggs, who was studying them intently, then back. “Could we speak in private?”
Teague straightened, intrigued, then nodded and led her over to an empty table. A waitress came by and he ordered another beer, Samantha ordered a glass of wine.
