Jess enjoyed the dinner with Bunny and the Ravens a lot, in part because she could keep her distance from Ike and try to forget about their fight—at least for a while. When it was over, though, she was worried that she and Ike were going to be stuck together again—and didn’t that say a helluva lot about where they were? Bunny and Rodeo went home, and Doc and Bear—who apparently lived somewhere on the compound—left for their places. Cora and Haven seemed super nice but on the shy side, and they pretty quickly retreated to their rooms upstairs.
Thankfully, though, the younger Ravens saved Jess from the possibility of more fighting, awkwardness, or one-on-one drama with Ike when they invited them to play pool in one of the other rooms. Jess was only too happy to accept. Drinks, music, and pool sounded like the perfect distraction—not just from Ike, but from worrying about whatever fight was looming tomorrow for her friends back home.
Blake fired up the coinless jukebox while Jeb racked the balls on the felt. A hot, driving beat spilled into the room.
Away from the dinner table, Jess could better study the denim cuts they wore with black leather patches and badges. “How come your cuts only have the club’s name on the back but not the logo?” she asked.
From where Ike sat on a stool at the bar behind her, he said, “Because they’re prospects. They don’t get patched until they’ve been voted in and earned it.”
“Is that when you get the back tat?” Jess asked, directing the question to Blake and Jeb.
Jeb looked across the room to Ike, clearly prepared to defer to him to answer. When Ike didn’t, Jeb nodded. With shoulder-length brown hair and a lanky body, he was a cute guy even though he had a total baby face. “That’s right. Same time.”
“Who does your ink?” Jess accepted a cold bottle of beer from Blake and took a long sip.
“I do,” Ike said, nailing her with a stare when she turned to meet his gaze.
Heat ran over Jess’s skin, and she hated the way her body reacted to him even when he was being an ass. And she really hated how hot she found it that the younger guys here so clearly respected Ike and that Ike was responsible for their ink. It was like seeing a whole new side of him, this man she’d known for the last four years.
Blake swept his dark-blond hair out of his eyes and held out a cue to her. He had a whole surfer vibe that she found appealing, though his eyes were harder and more serious than she’d noticed at first glance.
“All you,” she said, waving off the cue. She wanted to assess the competition first. “I’ll play winner.”
It didn’t take her long to determine that Blake was the better shot. He ran the table pretty handily against Jeb, which meant Jess might actually have some decent competition tonight. Her dad had made sure Jess could hold her own at pool, foosball, air hockey, and pinball machines—all his favorites. No one ever expected her to be any good, though. Back in college she had a lot of fun with the misperceptions.
“All right, Jess. You’re up,” Jeb said, coming to stand beside her. His elbow gave her arm a little tap. “He’s brutal though, I’m warning you.”
Jess smiled. “I’ll see what I can do.”
Blake racked and broke the balls, sinking a solid on his first shot. He sank two more in quick succession before missing a bank shot that set Jess up very well.
“What should we bet to make this more interesting?” she asked, bending over the table and eyeballing her options.
Blake joined Jeb at the side, which she knew put both of them right behind her and probably staring at her ass. All part of her evil plan. “How ’bout five dollars,” Blake said, slapping a fiver on the edge of the table.
Jess shrugged. “Sure, why not. I’m good for it,” she said, winking.
“I bet you are,” Blake said.
One, two, three, four balls down in quick succession.
“Damn,” Jeb said. “She’s gonna smoke your ass.”
Blake’s gaze narrowed, and it made Jess laugh. “Thirteen in the corner,” she said. She lined up and took her shot, but the orange-striped ball caught the bumper right next to the pocket.
Back up again, Blake sank two more before not giving himself much of a shot on his next turn, so he used it on a Hail Mary of a bank shot that screwed up her balls.
“Gee, thanks,” she said.
The look he gave her communicated more than some friendly ribbing. He was interested. “Any time, Jess. Any time.”
Part of her wanted to be interested in return. Objectively, she could look at him and think, That’s a hot guy. I’d totally do him. But her body wouldn’t get on board with anything more than visual appreciation, not with Ike in the room. Not with Ike owning her heart.
Love fucking sucked.
But at least she handily won the game, running the rest of the balls straight through. “Thank you,” she said, swiping the five off the table and making a little show of tucking it into her bra.
“I think we need a round of shots,” Jeb said. “Make this more interesting.”
“Bring it on,” Jess said. “If you think it’ll help.”
From behind the bar, Jeb grabbed a bottle of tequila, a container of salt, and a baggy of lemon wedges, then lined up three shot glasses. “Ike?” he asked, holding up a fourth glass. Ike just shook his head.
What the hell was wrong with him anyway? “Come on,” Jess said. “Have some fun.”