“I’m doing fine.”
He took another sip of beer, his expression closed. Oh, he hated talking about his injury. This must be the worst for him, everyone fussing over him and asking after him, and nothing he could do about any of it. His pride must bruise all over again every time someone brought it up.
Eliza took her time looking him over, but that seemed to be the end of her conversation with him. She turned to me. “Come play shuffleboard with us. It’s bridesmaids versus groomsmen, and we need you.”
I looked at Ty. “I guess you’re not playing?”
“I wouldn’t do them any favors.”
“Like they need an extra guy,” Eliza said.
“Sure, I’ll be right there,” I told her.
She skipped off to the shuffleboard table where the others had already gathered tossing out trash talk. Eden and Booker sat together at the far end of our table, apparently left out of the bridal party competition. From the looks of things, they hadn’t noticed. Their foreheads touched as they murmured low to each other, their fingers intertwined, alternating pale and dark skin locked together. Even in the middle of Magnolia Ridge’s premier dive bar, they looked altogether blissful.
I glanced away before I could get too heart-eyed over them like some creepy voyeur.
“Do you need anything?” I asked Ty. His look could have cut glass. He’d apparently had enough of that question. “Right. Got it. You’re grand. I’ll just—”
I darted away to the wedding party, my heart jackhammering away.
“We’re down a man with Ty out of commission.” Travis stood in front of the long shuffleboard table, tossing a puck back and forth in his hands. Eliza had called it—the man looked like a walking Ken doll, with tanned skin and wavy-blond hair. He didn’t do all that much for me, though.
I peeked over my shoulder at Ty. He avoided looking at either his overly-affectionate table mates or the group of us huddled around the game table, but stared off somewhere in between the two. He took a long, slow drink of beer. The movement of his throat as he swallowed? Weirdly hypnotic. Who knew throats could be so…interesting.
“Are you boys afraid of a little competition?” Chloe asked.
Remembering I hadn’t come here to stare at Ty, I snapped my head back to face the rest of the bridal party.
“You want to put a wager on the game?” Shaun asked, sidling closer to Chloe.
She bumped him with her hip. “What are we talking?”
From the look on his face, he had a few specific things in mind.
“We don’t need to bet on it,” I said. Already knee-deep in one iffy bet, I didn’t need another, no matter the stakes. “I probably even things out anyhow.”
We played a few rounds of shuffleboard punctuated by occasional shouts of approval and cries of shame. My ability to aim improved the longer I went without alcohol, but my game was still atrocious. I’d never liked bar games. The whole point was to prove how drunk you were, and then drink a little more to celebrate.
I leaned over the table, my puck in hand, hoping I wouldn’t prove myself disastrously drunk.
“Here.” Isaiah suddenly stood right next to me. “You just have to finesse it.”
He put his hand over mine, leaning against my shoulder as he guided me to release the puck. His tutorial didn’t go as planned, and my puck went off the lane halfway down the board, landing with athunkin the gutter.
“I could have done that much on my own,” I told him.
“I don’t want to overwhelm you all at once.”
Isaiah stood close, looking down at me with deep brown eyes full of mischief. I bet he overwhelmed a lot of women. He reminded me a bit of Shemar Moore, if Shemar Moore ever played a San Antonio commodities broker with a killer shuffleboard game.
He reminded me of Bret, too—heavy on the casual flirtation and light on sincerity. Not exactly a ringing endorsement.
“We definitely should have bet on this,” Shaun said.
I slid my last puck down the board, just knocking Isaiah’s off the lane, but taking my other two off in the process.
“I think you let me win.” Isaiah slipped one hand to the small of my back in a sort of consolatory half-hug. “You had that shot, easy.”
