“It is,” he said with a soft smile. Then he continued, “The team is great. I never expected to be captain. I’m still not even sure how it happened. I was starting my second year, and the captain got traded.” He huffed out a laugh and shook his head. “Coach tapped me on the shoulder. I thought I’d been traded, too, until they told me they were appointing me captain.”
“It’s recognition of your hard work and talent.” I didn’t really know if it was—I imagined captains needed more than that. Surely leadership qualities were necessary. But even as I thought that, I knew he had those too. He’d been vocal on the ice, encouraging his team and rallying them whenever they needed it.
“Maybe.” He smiled.
“Tell me about your roommates,” I said, and his face lit up.
“Travis is a firefighter. He’s funny and the life of the party. He was the one you’d find drunk dancing on a table at a frat party. Mind you, I was usually right there next to him.” He chuckled and shook his head. “He’s a good guy, takes care of all our animals, and doesn’t sweat the small stuff. Rusty’s smart. He’s quiet and an introvert, doesn’t like being around a lot of people, but once you get to know him, he opens up. He’s loyal and kind and is always there for you.”
“They sound like good guys.”
“They are.”
I went to take another sip of my drink, but it was empty. Jacques waved the waiter over again and was about to order another, but I couldn’t. I needed to drive back to the pool house. But I didn’t want to. After listening to Jacques talk about his house, I realized that the house I lived in wasn’t home anymore.
“Want to play a game of pool?” Jacques asked.
“Sure.” I grinned playfully. “I’m a shark. You’ll need to bring your A-game.”
He guided me out of the booth and over to the tables at the back, then racked the balls up. I was actually hopeless at pool. When all my friends had been out during their university days, I’d been at home with a toddler. My game didn’t even count as beginner level.
“Ladies first,” Jacques offered, gesturing to the balls.
I was going to fake it until I made it. If I got a single ball in, I’d be ecstatic. Hell, if I hitone, I’d be happy.
I grasped the cue and tried to remember scenes in movies where they’d played pool. How did they hold it? I had no clue. I rested my hand on the table, placed the cue on top, and hit the white ball. It bounced off the others but without much oomph. They sort of rolled pathetically apart and stopped a few centimeters away from their starting point. None even landed close to a pocket.
“So…,” Jacques started, biting back a smile. “Gummy shark?”
“Well, I’m clearly not a great white, am I?” I joked, my cheeks heating.
Jacques racked up the balls again and said, “Let’s try again, shall we?”
He showed me how to position my hand, then stepped behind me, adjusting my grip on the cue. His touch was sure, and that quiet confidence was so freaking attractive.
He rested his hands on my waist, and it sent an electric current through me. I sucked in a breath and fought every instinct to lean back against him. Desire zinged through me, and with it a healthy dose of shame and self-recrimination. I couldn’t be attracted to Jacques. It was so far beyond appropriate that it wasn’t even in the same solar system.
He was a boy—at least that’s what I told myself—and my best friend’s son. I was almost old enough to be his mother—literally. My daughter was only a couple of years younger than him.
I was fresh off a separation too… and why was I even thinking about him like that?
Jacques was a family friend.
There was no attraction between us.
Yes, he’d grown up to be a beautiful man, but I said the same thing about Hollywood movie stars. It didn’t mean I wanted to sleep with them.
One day, he’d make a much younger person very happy.
Not me.
Never me.
Not at all.
We were just having a game of pool.
Two friends.
