When she leaned back against the table in victory like a satisfied cat, he gave her a once-over. “If you weren’t Blake’s…”
Grant looped an arm around his neck. “She cheated you, Zack Sprat. No man can beat a woman when she uses her wiles like that.”
“No man minds getting beaten when he gets to watch,” the flirty quarterback fired back.
Rubbing her hands together, she turned to face the rest of the guys. “Who’s up next?”
Jordan strode forward. “Since I’m the only one in a committed relationship, I’ll play. I’m immune to the charms of other women.”
Now that made her smile. Jordan was a flirt, but he was faithful. “How is Grace?”
His smile said it all. “Great. She finally managed to pry out the chicken fricassee recipe from that fancy chef you two enjoyed in New York City. I gave it to Blake for you.”
She and Blake had met them for New Year’s in New York three years ago. She was touched Grace had remembered. Suddenly she felt a pang of loss for her old friend, for all these old friends.
Pasting a smile on her face, she said, “I can’t wait to try it. Please thank her for me.”
He winked. “Will do. Now, Nat. Are you ready to go down?”
These guys were all swagger, but she could trash talk with the best of them. Blake had refined her craft there.
“I don’t know, Jordan. Aren’t you afraid all that gel in your hair will throw you off balance and make you miss your shot?”
“Ooohhh,” the guys hooted.
“She’s got your number, Jordan. Good thing Blake isn’t playing. He’d scratch with all that mousse in his hair.”
She glanced over at the crowd, hoping for a glimpse of Blake and Andy. They hadn’t come back, which either meant Blake was still searching for someone, or they’d found a likely candidate and he was hanging around to help Andy get his game back. The breath in her chest evaporated, and she had to cough to reinflate her lungs. Dammit. Why did he have to be so sweet and supportive?
Turning her focus back to the game, she found she needed it. Jordan was a solid player and had a few trick shots up his sleeve.
“Someone knows how to work his stick,” Logan called out.
God, these guys acted like a bunch of teenagers. She rolled her eyes. She beat Jordan in the end, and then Hunter too. A round of drinks arrived, and she was handed a shot of tequila.
“Bottoms up,” Jordan said as all the guys clicked their shot glasses together.
All except Sam. He didn’t do shots.
Jordan poured everyone another shot from the Patron bottle. Natalie looked at the shot glass for a moment, knowing a second shot wouldn’t be the wisest decision. But for some reason she didn’t care. Nothing leveled a person out like tequila, and tonight she just wanted to forget everything. She downed the next one. Jordan poured another, and she went for her third. By the time she found her pool stick, her hands were tingling. Her body was floating a couple inches off the floor. She felt fabulous. If she closed her eyes, she could even pretend that the clock had re-wound to happier days and she and Blake were married again and out having fun with his friends.
Grant volunteered to play her, and when it was all over, she didn’t care he’d beaten her. The pool stick kept slipping from her hands.
Jordan brought more shots around on a tray, swishing his hips like a Vegas waitress.
She was reaching for another when Sam said, “I think you’ve had enough.”
The harmonious float she was lying on suddenly lurched. In slow motion, she turned to face him and stuck her finger at his chest. Or at least she thought it was his chest. Her finger only met air, and she stumbled into him.
“Don’t tell me what to do!” she told him and realized her words were floating too, like seeds from a dandelion she’d used to make a wish.
Cool, her fun drunk self said. She felt like the rock star, Pink, right now. Having fun on a Saturday night. Playing with the boys. Drinking too much. There was nothing wrong with that.
Jordan stood like a statue with the tray in his hands, unsure who to defy, her or Mr. Grumpy Face Sam. She took the decision away from him and picked up a shot. After tossing it back, she flicked her hair over her shoulder and looked at Sam.
“You were out of line earlier,” she told him, feeling a sweet buzz in her head.
“I’m sorry I hurt your feelings, Natalie,” he told her, and Jordan peeled away like a fast car.
She pressed her hand to her chest. “My feelings?”
She didn’t have feelings. Something wove, and she realized it was her when Sam put out an arm to hold her in place. A woodpecker tapped on her shoulder, and she tilted her head to the side to tell it to buzz off. But it wasn’t a bird—it was a massive finger. She followed the digit up to the arm and then up to the face.
Blake was staring at her with narrowed eyes. “Have enough to drink, babe?”
Andy leaned into her face, and she wove backward when she saw two of him.
“Jeez, Nat, how much did you drink?”
Sam shook his head. “Jordan brought around tequila shots.”