go chicken on me now.” Ed riffled her hand through a department-store array of cosmetics. “You want that man, don’t you?”
“Yes, but—”
“Then sit down here on the bed and let me buff you up. This here red’s a killer,” she murmured fondly as she unscrewed a lipstick.
“I can’t sit,” Regan stated after a single attempt. “I’d damage an internal organ.”
“Then stand.” After making her choices, Ed rose and went to work. “Now, you said nine-ball, right?”
“Yeah.”
In her forty-two years—forty-five, if God was listening—she’d never seen a woman less likely to chalk a stick than Regan Bishop. “Ever play pool, honey?”
“Billiards.” Regan uttered a silent prayer as Ed advanced with eyeliner. “With my father. Several times.”
“Hell, honey, billiards ain’t nothing. Why, nine-ball’s the second-best thing you can do on a pool table.” She cackled when Cassie flushed scarlet. “Now listen up while I explain how it works.”
Balls smacked and clattered when Rafe shot his cue. The five ball thumped satisfactorily into the corner pocket.
“Luck,” Jared said, and lazily chalked his cue.
Rafe only snorted. “Six off the nine and in the side.” He made his shot, lined up the next.
“Never could beat Rafe at nine-ball.” More interested in the little redhead at the bar than the game, Shane leaned on the juke. She was all alone, and looked as cuddly as a new down pillow. “Seen her around before, Dev?”
Devin glanced up, over. “Holloway’s niece, from up on Mountain View. She’s got a boyfriend the size of a semi who’ll break you in half if you breathe on her.”
It was all the challenge Shane needed. He sauntered over, leaned on the bar and turned on the charm.
Devin gave a resigned smile. If the boyfriend came in, Devin would have to use his badge. And that would blow his night.
“My game.” Rafe held out his hand for the ten dollars Jared owed him. “You’re up, Dev.”
“I need a beer.”
“Jared’s buying.” Rafe grinned at his older brother. “Right, bro?”
“I bought last round.”
“You lost the last game.”
“So be a gracious winner. His tab,” Jared told the bartender, and held up three fingers.
“Hey, what about me?”
Jared flicked a glance at Shane. The redhead was clutching his arm like a fast-growing vine. “You’re driving, kid.”
“Flip for it.”
Obligingly, Jared took a coin from his pocket. “Call it.”
“Heads.”
He flipped the coin, caught it neatly. “Tails. You’re driving.”
With a philosophical shrug, Shane turned back to the redhead.
“Does he have to hit on everything in a skirt?” Rafe muttered while Devin racked the balls.
“Yep. Somebody had to take up where you left off.” Devin stepped back, chose his cue. “And since you’re spoken for…”
“Nobody said I was spoken for.” Rafe gave the curvy redhead a long look, felt nothing more than a low-level tug of basic appreciation. And thought of Regan, just thought of her and his heart shattered. “We’ve got an understanding.” He bit the words off, but still tasted bitterness. “Nothing serious.”
“He’s hooked.” Jared grinned and lifted his beer. “And his heart looks so pretty, right there on his sleeve.”
No way he was going to take the bait, Rafe thought. It was bad enough having your heart broken without having your family watch you fumble with the pieces. “You want to eat this cue?” Rafe executed his break, smugly pleased when two balls rolled into pockets.
“She came into the house today,” Devin said conversationally, “and that hook in his mouth dragged him right down the stairs like a trout on a fly. I think there were stars in his eyes, too.” Devin met Rafe’s steely look equably. “Yep, I’m sure of it.”
“Pretty soon he’s going to start shaving regular and wearing clean shirts.” Jared shook his head, as if in mourning. “Then we’ll know we’ve lost him.”
“Then it’ll be antique shows and ballets.” Devin heaved a heavy sigh. “Poetry readings.”
Because that hit entirely too close to home, Rafe jerked the cue and missed his shot. He wasn’t going to think of her. Damn it, he wasn’t going to give Regan or the hole in his gut a single thought. “Keep it up and I’ll take both of you on.”
“Well, I’m shaking.” After lining up his shot, Devin leaned over the table. He made his ball cleanly. As he circled the table, he sniffed at Rafe. “That cologne, lover-boy?”
“I’m not wearing any damn—” Rafe hissed out a breath. “You’re just jealous ’cause you’re sleeping alone on some cot outside a cell every night.”
“You got me there.”
Enjoying himself, Jared plugged coins into the jukebox. “What time do you have to be home, Rafe? We wouldn’t want you getting conked with a rolling pin for missing curfew.”
“How long have you been a practicing ass?” It was some small satisfaction to note that Duff was shooting them uneasy glances. A man didn’t like to lose his touch. “What’s the fine for breaking up a couple of chairs?”
Nostalgia swam sweetly along with the beer in Devin’s bloodstream. Unless he counted breaking his brothers up, and you could hardly count that, he hadn’t been in a decent fight in years.
“Can’t let you do it,” he said, with mildly drunk regret. “I carry a badge.”
“Take it off.” Rafe grinned. “And let’s beat hell out of Shane. For old times’ sake.”
Jared tapped his fingers on the juke in time to the music. He eyed their youngest brother, who was definitely making progress with the redhead. That alone was reason enough to punch him a few times.
“I’ve got enough on me to post bond,” Jared told them. “And a little extra to bribe the sheriff, if we have to.”
Devin sighed, straightened from the table. With brotherly affection, he studied the unsuspecting Shane. “Hell, he’s going to get his butt whipped before the night’s over, anyway, if he keeps playing with that girl. We might as well do it first.”
“We’ll be more humane,” Jared agreed.
The
