Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 83355 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 417(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 278(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83355 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 417(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 278(@300wpm)
Scattered throughout the main area are sturdy wooden tables and high-backed chairs, and a jukebox in the corner currently plays a rock song I don’t recognize but surely was popular in decades past. I learned on prior visits that the music runs classic in this bar and reflects more of Bear’s tastes than anything.
We make our way back to a grouping of high tops near the three pool tables, their green felt surfaces inviting a game. A few of the guys are already playing, the smacking of pool balls heard above the music and the low-level hum of conversation. Beyond the pool tables, there are electronic dart boards mounted on the wall but those stand empty for the time being. I’m sure as the beer flows and the competitive nature of my teammates loosens, there will be games played for money.
I note most of the team is here, I’m guessing because it’s a Friday night but also because we only have a team meeting tomorrow. While professional athletes aren’t above getting drunk when the occasion calls for it, we always have to balance the timing of partying with games and practice. I expect a few headaches tomorrow as we review game video.
After wishing Bear a happy birthday and giving Stevie a hug, Atlas, North, Rafferty and I snag a high top near the first pool table. A blond waitress by the name of Chrissy takes our orders and as soon as she’s gone, I’m incessantly teased by my mates.
“Dude… are you going to ask her out?” Rafferty asks with a waggle of his brows.
I roll my eyes, tired of their ribbing when it comes to women. For some reason, they consider me a “pretty boy” and have pointed out on numerous occasions that women seem to drool over me. I don’t see it though and even if I did, I’m not into random hookups. Never have been.
Instead, I change the subject. “I tried to get Penn to come out with us.”
“Yeah, good luck with that,” Atlas says grimly.
“What’s his deal?” North grouses. “Does he think he’s too good for us?”
“I don’t think that’s it,” I muse, drumming my fingers on the table as I watch Stone and Drake playing a game of pool on the table before us.
Admittedly, I have no good hunches.
“Eight ball, bank shot, corner pocket,” Drake says, tapping his hand on the exact pocket he just called.
“There’s no way,” Stone says confidently, leaning against his pool stick. “Twenty bucks says you miss.”
Drake looks up, a smirk on his face. “Forty.”
“I’ve got forty says he misses,” Atlas says, pulling out his wallet.
“I’ll cover that,” Drake says with a wink.
“Anyone else want in on this action?” Stone asks, taking out his money.
“I’m good,” North says, holding up a hand.
Rafferty and I both shake our heads.
We all watch as Drake bends over the table and carefully lines up his shot, his focus laser-like, much the way he is in net as our goalie. Slowly, he draws his stick back just a few inches and gives the cue ball the most delicate tap imaginable. Yet somehow, it has a punch to it and it makes a thwack against the eight ball. It swiftly rolls to the bumper, angles away and rolls all the way down the green to sink cleanly into the pocket.
“Holy shit,” Rafferty exclaims.
“Damn,” Stone grumbles, fishing the money out of his wallet. “You’ve gotten good.”
“Yeah, turns out… Brienne has a pool table and I’ve been practicing just for this occasion.”
Drake is engaged to the Titans’ owner, Brienne Norcross, and they’ve been living together in her mansion with his three little boys for some time now.
“And where is our esteemed owner tonight?” Atlas asks just as Chrissy returns with beers.
“London,” Drake says, taking a moment to order him and Stone a beer before she leaves. I sneak a glance at the pretty blond and fuck… she is staring right at me with hopeful eyes.
I drop my gaze and grab my water, turning back to Drake. “Why’s she in London?”
“Can’t say,” Drake deadpans.
“Can’t say because you don’t know or can’t say because you can’t say?” I press.
“Can’t say. It’s a secret.”
“Really?” Stone drawls with interest, leaning his elbow on our table.
Drake grins at him. “Really.”
“Not even a hint?”
“Not even a hint,” he confirms. “But if it goes the way I think it will, sports tongues are going to be wagging.”
That was cryptic and intriguing as hell. What kind of sports would Brienne Norcross be interested in based out of London? Or is it a hockey player? But that doesn’t make sense because that’s Callum’s job.
Chrissy returns with the beers for Stone and Drake and we all hoist our bottles—mine being plastic and filled with water—to toast the win against the Cold Fury. We play partners in pool, me and Drake against Stone and North, all with a bunch of smack talk and ribbing. Drake really is quite good and we kick Stone’s and North’s asses soundly but there’s no money exchanged on that game.