His cell buzzed. He picked it up, saw Jenna was calling.
“Hey, baby sister, what’s up?”
“Hey, dickhead. I need you to come to the bar for a pickup.”
He frowned. “Pickup. What kind of pickup?”
“Your girlfriend—or should I say ex-girlfriend—Elizabeth, is ten sheets to the wind here, and it’s 100 percent your fault, asshole.”
His heart thudded against his chest. “Lizzie is there? Why?”
“Getting stinking drunk because you’re a prick. You coming or should I call for relief so I can take her home?”
“On my way. Don’t let her leave.”
Jenna laughed. “Not intending to.”
He launched out the door, grateful he’d had an early game today. It was only eleven, but still, he might not have been around to take Jenna’s call, and he didn’t want to miss the chance to talk to Elizabeth.
Fifteen minutes later he pushed through the door of Riley’s and headed straight to the bar, ignoring the shouts and waves from the patrons calling his name.
“Where is she?”
Jenna motioned with her head. “Holding court at the pool table.”
He started to turn but Jenna grasped his wrist.
“What?”
“You were a jerk.”
He nodded. “I know. I’m an asshole. I hurt her, bad. You can lecture me later, and I deserve every word. I’m going to fix this.”
Jenna nodded. “See that you do.”
Geez. Women and bonding. He was so screwed. As if his mother hadn’t already read him the riot act about what he’d done to Elizabeth. His own family was turning against him. Not that he didn’t deserve it. He did, in spades.
He headed over to the crowded pool table and stopped in his tracks at the sight of Elizabeth bent over the table with about eight sets of horny, eager eyes focused on her ass. She wore black Capri pants and a sleeveless stretchy top and little canvas shoes. Her hair was in a ponytail. She looked hot and sexy, and oh, God, no wonder they were looking at her ass—those pants cupped the globes perfectly. She did have such a great ass, especially when she bent over like that.
She couldn’t shoot pool for shit when she was drunk though. He winced when her cue scraped the cloth. She scratched—twice in a row. But he didn’t think the guys watching her gave a crap about her pool-shooting abilities. They were watching the woman, who laughed with them, flirted with them, and leaned against them, probably because she was having trouble standing.
What was her intent in getting drunk and hanging out with all these men?
It occurred to him he had no right to wonder, since he’d tossed her declaration of love in her face and basically called her a slut. He cringed again at the thought, as he had every day since he’d flung what she’d said out the window as if it had meant nothing. She’d told him she loved him—in front of his brother, who she knew had the capacity to hurt her, and in front of his father.
And he’d crushed her under his heel. He was a callous, no good son of a bitch, and he didn’t deserve her.
He was no better than dirt. He couldn’t blame her for never wanting to speak to him again. And he sure as hell couldn’t blame her for dropping him as a client.
Now it was time for him to man up and take whatever she flung his way.
He moved into the circle by the pool table.
“Excuse me, guys, time for me to take my woman home.”
They all backed away, whether it was because they knew him or whether they didn’t want to get in the middle of a guy and his girl, he didn’t know. Didn’t care.
Elizabeth lined up a shot, though he knew she had it lined up wrong. He got up behind her and pressed his body against hers. She giggled.
“I hope you don’t think you pressing your crotch against my ass to help me with this shot in any way means you’re coming home with me.”
She had no idea it was him. He hadn’t said a word. He slid his arm alongside hers, held her hand steady, lined up the shot, and hit the ball. It slid into the corner pocket—without scratching.
“Wheee!” she said, lifting and turning around with a wide grin.
Her smile died as soon as she saw him. “What the hell are you doing here?”
“Jenna called me. I’m your ride home.”
She shot a glare at the bar. Jenna waved.
“Traitor.”
He laid the pool cue on the table. “Come on, honey, I’ll take you home.”
She backed away from him. “I’m not going anywhere with you. I’m staying here with my guys. Right, guys?”
Gavin scanned the gazes of the men surrounding the table. None looked ready to jump to her defense. Smart dudes. The last thing they wanted was to get in the middle of what they probably thought was a domestic dispute.
“Party’s over, Elizabeth. Let’s go.” He reached for her hand, but she jerked it back.
“Leave me alone. You don’t love me. And I fired you.”
“Do we have to do this here?”