interchangeable, and had instead discovered that bison patties stank to high heaven. She’d made him buy her a pair of new sneakers after that one, which he’d thought was fair.
Her grin lit up her face. “You should take more chances.”
Over his dead body. “And you’re going to kill yourself one of these days.”
That was the wrong thing to say. Her hand rubbed the scar on her knee self-consciously. They didn’t talk about the Jet Ski accident that had put an end to her diving career. She’d come far too close to dying. Fortunately, he’d completed emergency medical training as part of his rescue-swimmer education. After he’d saved her, he’d staunched the bleeding and thanked God a major artery had been missed. The crystal clear water of Discovery Island had looked like a bad shark attack had occurred that day.
“You up for a game of pool?” She practically jumped off the barstool as she made her getaway.
Daeg looked at him. “Nice going, asshole. Now, go make it up to her.”
“By letting her win?”
Cal collected their glasses. He debated grabbing the peanuts, too, but he wasn’t a waiter and Piper was already marching across the bar toward the pool tables in the backroom. She clearly expected him to follow, and he felt guilty enough for bringing up bad memories to indulge her.
Daeg shook his head. “No one lets Piper do anything. She just does it. She’ll win fair and square on her own.”
That was true, too. He followed her while he chewed on that one.
The bar’s pool table setup was ad hoc at best. Big Petey had gone for the more-is-better approach and shoehorned two pool tables into a space meant for one. The proximity didn’t leave a whole lot of room to maneuver.
Piper grabbed a cue stick from the rack on the wall, inspected the tip and leaned her hip against the table. She was good at looking confident. He’d give her that.
“Perfect. You’re in,” she said when he stepped into the room.
“Piper.” Her name came out as a growl.
“Watch,” Daeg said to Tag. Apparently, he hadn’t been able to resist the promise of a free show. “I’m predicting another crazy bet.”
“Twenty bucks,” Cal said, knowing she wanted something more than his cash. She probably would negotiate for his shaving his head bald or singing “The Star-Spangled Banner” in a monkey suit when the cruise ship docked, or any other embarrassing trick she could dream up.
“As if.” She waved a hand. “I don’t play for peanuts. Make it a hundred.”
They didn’t usually play for cash, but Piper couldn’t be making bank at the dive shop. She’d also bought in and owned part of the place, which had probably left her cash poor. Since he had plenty of cash, he was happy to share with her. It would mean losing intentionally, but as long as he made it look good...making sure Piper was fed and happy was worth it. Despite the way they constantly butted heads, he’d never wanted her upset or miserable.
“Ladies first.”
She rolled her eyes. “Way to set yourself up for the loss.”
He’d played her more times than he could count. Hell. He’d taught her to play. She was good, but he was better. He handed their drinks to Daeg and racked the balls.
She tugged on her ear and bent over the table. He’d seen her make the lucky gesture countless times on the diving platform, right before she hurtled through the air and ripped her entry. It must have worked, because she broke straight on, the balls scattering.
When the five ball rolled into the pocket, she straightened up. “Stripes. My favorite. It must be my lucky night.”
* * *
PIPER HAD NO idea why she’d gotten dressed up just to swing by Big Petey’s place. She’d been bored and lonely, though, going more than a little stir-crazy out at her place alone, so she’d hopped into her truck. Possibly, she’d headed here because she was almost certain to find Cal nursing a soda if he was at loose ends. Needling him was pure fun, plus the man seriously begged for a shaking up. Mr. Safety lived and played by the rules.
Growing up, their crazy bets had been a regular summer occurrence. She’d come out to Discovery Island and spend two months indulging in soft-serve ice cream, motorboat rides—and daring Cal. Even then, before he’d become a U.S. Navy rescue swimmer and moved on to rescuing the more deserving than she, he’d wanted to save her from herself.
She’d always been the bigger daredevil of the two of them. He’d rise to the occasion, but invariably remained so serious during the execution of their bets. He was a good sport when he lost, too, although he never lost by nearly as much as she wanted him to. Cal excelled at strategic thinking and, once he was in, he was all in.
She looked over at him, taking his measure. He didn’t look worried about their current bet. “You remember the last time we played pool?”
“Four years ago?” He sounded certain.
“The game that ended with you skinny-dipping in the mayor’s pool?”
He hadn’t expected to lose that particular game of pool, but he’d walked the four blocks to the mayor’s house, with her tagging along. Then he’d hopped the fence, lent her a hand as she scrambled over the top, awkwardly because her knee had been a hot mess, and proceeded to nonchalantly strip off. Good times. She’d give Cal credit. He always kept his word.
“Some things are hard to forget,” he agreed.
She wondered if now was the time to admit she’d snapped not one but six pictures of his amazing butt as he’d jumped into the pool. She’d hung on to those pictures, too, although she planned on claiming they were blackmail material.
Like them all, he was a little older now, but she’d bet he still looked spectacular naked. When she’d walked into the bar, he’d been staring at his empty soda glass, lost in thought. The scruff on his jaw and the faded pair of blue jeans and polo shirt weren’t military issue, but there was no mistaking him for anything but a soldier. He’d also looked alone somehow, even in the middle of the bar’s cheerful chaos, and that wasn’t right. Sliding onto the stool beside him had seemed natural.
Imagine that.
While she and Cal had never been enemies, they’d never been close friends, either. Between competing to one-up each other and his annoying insistence he knew best, they’d been at odds more often than not, and the days of simply hanging out together had ended with her family vacations. He’d joined the U.S. Navy; she’d gone to college and been headed for a professional diving career. All of which meant they’d met up infrequently in the past few years. And yet...it certainly hadn’t escaped her attention that they invariably rubbed each other the wrong way when they shared air space.
Grasping the base of the cue with her right hand, she rested the stick on the edge of the table. “You might want to back up. Bodily injury isn’t on tonight’s agenda.”
“Thank God,” Daeg muttered behind them and took a drink of what she was fairly certain was her soda.
Spreading her
