Her Best Shot Read online

  Kissing Phin was like coming home after her first semester at college. Comfortable and exciting because she’d become a different person.

  His tongue swept into her mouth and she moaned. She hadn’t kissed anyone since leaving Atlanta, but even if she had, she knew it wouldn’t top this.

  Phin pushed her against the table. The wood bit into her back as he changed the angle of his kiss to go deeper, take more from her.

  And he almost had her. She almost gave in and gave him whatever he wanted, but she shoved him off. They stared at each other for a long moment, chests heaving, eyes hazy with lust. He was hard everywhere and she wanted to climb all over him, but instead she wiped her hand across her tender lips. As if she had any chance of removing the impression he’d made.

  Then his expression softened. He touched her cheek. “Layla—”

  She slapped her hand on his chest. “Don’t. You got your kiss.”

  “That chick in Atlanta didn’t mean anything. You know that.”

  Layla sidestepped him. “I know. You wanted to get rid of me and used her to do it because you never have the balls to just talk. To open up and let someone see what you need. I got the message. Good-bye, Phin.”

  “Let me talk now.”

  “There’s nothing you can say. I wouldn’t believe you. Can’t you see that? You couldn’t even play a fair game with me here. You fucked around and then hustled me when you thought you had something to gain. I know I deserve better than that.” She walked away, fighting every instinct she had to turn around and give him that chance he asked for.

  She tasted him on her lips, and the phantom presence of his body clung to her skin. Two months had not been nearly enough time to get over him. Nothing could be done about that now, though, so she would just refocus and win the games ahead.

  Chapter 9

  Phin entered the tournament hall to scope out the competition and find Layla. He wanted to talk to her. The schedule said she’d be playing now. Part of him hoped she’d lose. He didn’t want to play against her in the tournament. He’d have to let her win, and, if that happened, he’d need to find another tournament with a similar purse.

  It didn’t take long to find her. The number of women playing was still small enough that they stood out in the crowd. He edged closer as her opponent took a shot. The guy missed, mostly because he was staring at Layla’s cleavage. She looked over her shoulder and caught his attention with a smile.

  He’d been sure she was pissed. Maybe he was wrong. Then she bent over and took her turn. Again and again until she won. Her opponent barely congratulated her.

  When she approached Phin, he said, “Good game. You’ve gotten better.”

  “Go big or go home, right?”

  “That’s one way to play it.”

  “It’s still the only way.”

  The conversation brought him back to their first night together. He wished he could go back to fix something, anything. He watched her walk away from him again, this time with a little swagger. He waited in the hall until his turn to play and he won, as expected. He’d learned over the years that the opening rounds went quickly with the players who were true amateurs being knocked out. The best quickly rose to the top. Layla had become part of that group. He made plans with some of the regular players to meet up in the practice hall.

  The practice area was mostly empty when they arrived. Of course, Layla was there. He wondered how many hours she’d clocked playing pool over the past couple of months to be able to excel the way she had.

  One of the guys, Jim, elbowed Phin and pointed to Layla. “Hot piece of ass. What do you think? Pool groupie?”

  Phin had heard of pool groupies before, but he’d always been too focused on the game to pay any real attention. Hearing the other player talk about Layla like that annoyed the shit of him. He looked at Jim. “More like piranha.”

  “You know her?”

  “Yeah.”

  Jim led the group to Layla’s table. “Hey, I’m Jim. Want to play doubles?”

  Layla’s gaze took in Jim and then moved on to the rest of them, landing on Phin. A smile joined the slight shake of her head. “Why not? Layla,” she added.

  Jim sidled up to her. “Me and Layla against Greg and Phin,” he said by way of introduction.

  “I was thinking it would be a better game if Layla and I teamed up. We both know I’m the better player. You can’t afford the handicap,” Phin answered.

  She snorted behind Jim, but didn’t argue. Jim racked the balls and Phin went to Layla.

  She stared at him with narrowed eyes. “Handicap?” she whispered.

  “These guys are arrogant assholes just looking to sleep with you. You know me; I play to win.”

  Her eyes went from slits to saucers. He loved to surprise her. Phin approached the table knowing that he would do everything in his power to set Layla up with every possible shot so she could stomp these two. He had nothing against Jim and Greg. They ran into each other a few times a year at tournaments. They had never become friends, but Phin didn’t make friends with anyone.

  Not until Layla. And look how that had turned out.

  They played in silence, except for a few jeering comments from Jim. If he ever had a shot with Layla, it disappeared as soon as he ran his mouth.

  Phin and Layla communicated without words. A sly look, a bump of shoulders . . . He stopped himself before he slapped her ass. After winning two games back to back, Layla took apart her cue. “Thanks for the games, boys, but I’m done. I want to see the rankings for tomorrow and head out.”

  “How about dinner?” Jim asked.

  “No thanks.” She turned and headed to the door.

  Phin couldn’t watch her leave again. She was getting too good at it. “Hey,” he said when he caught up.

  “Hey.”

  “You really kicked ass back there.”

  “You weren’t so bad either.” She kept walking toward the elevator as if the conversation was pointless. Or maybe it was just him.

  Every time he thought he’d made some progress, she cooled off. “Do you want to get a drink?”

  “Actually, I do. Alone.”

  “You don’t really want to be alone.”

  “I don’t want to be with you either.”

  “We’re going to keep running into each other this weekend. Chances are good we’ll play each other by late tomorrow. Let’s enjoy tonight.”

  She finally stopped walking. “What do you want, Phin? Do you really think we’re going to be friends?”

  “What I really want to do is take you to bed.”

  “Sex isn’t the answer to everything. It certainly won’t fix the way you treated me.”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t want to hurt you, but I didn’t know what else to do.”

  “You didn’t need to do anything. If you didn’t want me to stay with you, why didn’t you just say so?” Her cheeks were red with anger, but her eyes softened with pain.

  He ran a hand over the top of his head, suddenly missing his long hair. “I did want you to stay with me. I wanted you to stay more than you can ever understand.”

  “Funny way of showing it.” She turned and walked onto the elevator.

  He followed, searching for the right words. “You don’t belong riding around aimlessly. You had a life waiting for you. I was spring-break fun.”

  She stared at her feet. “That’s what it started out as, sure, but it became more. At least for me.”

  “For me too. You know that. You have to know that.”

  “I know nothing. For a week, you said as little as possible. When I told you I was looking for a job, you had your opening. All you had to say was, ‘Go home, Layla.” ”

  The elevator dinged at her floor and he dogged her heels. “Would you have listened?”

  “I guess we’ll never know.”

  “Fuck that. We both know you would’ve gotten mad and taken off in some other direction. I knew telling you to leave wouldn’t work. You were meant to fin
ish college and have a great career. I couldn’t offer you any of that. You’re too smart to live my life.”

  She stood at the door to her room, key card poised. “I didn’t ask you for anything.”

  “Bullshit. You were using me to run away from your life, but you wouldn’t tell me why. I tried to talk to you and you got naked. You wouldn’t tell me what you needed either.”

  “All I needed was you.”

  He set his cue case on the floor. “But you deserve more than that.”

  Phin touched her cheek and she leaned into his palm.

  She pulled away. “I guess I should thank you. I finished school, and I’m really liking my life right now. This tournament. . . it’s closure for me. Doing the best I can here will close the chapter on spring break.”

  She slipped the card into the lock and went in.

  Phin wanted to believe he still had a chance, but every time they talked, Layla made it sound more and more final.

  Layla closed the door behind her and sank against it. She imagined a movie cutaway where Phin leaned on the opposite side. Pitiful. Walking away from Phin was getting harder and harder. She pushed off the door, showered and changed, and went in search of a cold beer.

  For all of her brave words to Phin outside her room, she wanted to grab him and kiss him. Playing a game of pool at his side instead of against him had been a mistake, but she sure as shit hadn’t wanted to play with either of the other two guys. She was surprised at how quickly she and Phin had fallen into that old rhythm of comfort. How could that be? They’d spent less than a week together two months ago.

  Sitting at the hotel bar, she was draining the last of the beer in her third bottle when Phin arrived. Was there really no escape? “Are you stalking me now or what?”

  “I suppose some might consider it stalking. I was looking for you, and if walking into every bar and restaurant attached to the hotel counts as stalking, then I’m guilty.” He smiled, and she knew he wanted her to melt.

  She nodded to the bartender to get another beer. “Confessions get you into trouble.”

  “I’m not worried.”

  Layla looked at him and tamped down the desire to wrap herself around him. “Maybe you should be.”

  He eased onto the stool beside her, his thigh brushing hers. “With you, I never worry.”

  The feeling was mutual, which just made her cranky again. She took a sip of her fresh beer and tried not to crumble under Phin’s scrutiny. “What do you want, Phin?”

  “I want to talk to you. Really talk. I thought I was never going to see you again and here you are. I don’t want to miss this chance.”

  “There is no chance here and you suck at talking.”

  “I’m trying to get better. What do you want to know?”

  So many thoughts and questions rattled through her head. She shook it clear. “Nothing. I wanted more of you two months ago and you offered nothing. I don’t need anything from you now.”

  His finger traced a line on her thigh. “No, you never needed me, but the want is still pretty strong.”

  After slapping money on the bar, she twisted and hopped off the stool, leaving her beer behind.

  “How about another game? For every ball you sink, I’ll tell you something about myself.”

  Layla walked out of the bar without answering him. Of course he followed.

  “What do you have to lose? We play a game; you might get my whole life story. Then if you still want me to back off, I will.”

  What did she have to lose? The last of her self-respect, the excellent buzz she had going on, a good night’s sleep . . . her heart. She made the mistake of looking into his eyes. They were pleading in a way she couldn’t comprehend. She couldn’t really read his eyes, but they still conveyed feeling straight to her heart. His eyes always undid her, but with the lack of hair to fringe his face, they were more powerful, if that was possible. There was nothing else to distract her and they sucked her in. “Why’d you cut your hair?”

  “I needed a change. Figured it was time to grow up.”

  “Adults can’t have long hair?”

  He shrugged as if he wasn’t so sure about the gesture now. “I needed a change.”

  “Why does it have to be a game? Why can’t you just talk?”

  Another shrug. “I wouldn’t know where to start.”

  He looked so young and unsure of everything. His casual confidence nowhere to be found. She closed her eyes. He needed closure as much as she did. It couldn’t hurt to hear him out. “Buy me a coffee and we’ll talk. I’m buzzed and can’t play pool.”

  His face lit up. “Wait here.” He took off at a run to a kiosk that sold coffee. He returned with two large cups. “Where do you want to go?”

  She blew into the brew. Knowing she’d probably regret it, she suggested his room. At least there, if things got too hairy, she could leave. They didn’t say anything on the ride up to his room, and Layla tried to form questions. What did she want to know about Phin that she didn’t already?

  It’s not like she didn’t care. She cared too much about him, but she felt like she knew him so well that the small details didn’t matter. And weren’t they all small details?

  In his room, she steered clear of the bed and took the chair at the table. Phin paced the room carrying his coffee like a prop.

  “Say your piece, Phin. I’m not going to spend the night here.”

  He huffed out a short breath. “When I left my family, I told myself it was because I wanted a normal life. I wanted what every other kid had: a house, a yard, a dad who worked a regular job, a girlfriend. I was angry that I didn’t have that. But I had no idea what to do with myself. For the first two years on my own, I was basically homeless. I stole; I conned people; I slept in my truck. On my twentieth birthday I realized that I hadn’t changed. I had given my father all this grief about the way I had been forced to live my life, but then I went out and did the same things. So I made a plan.”

  He sat on the edge of the bed. “I hit the tournament circuit to get money. All the other odd jobs I worked gave me spending money so I could eat. My tournament money is sitting in a bank. As soon as I had enough, I planned to pick a place and settle down. Find a regular job, mow the lawn, marry a nice girl.”

  “You said you didn’t want to get married.”

  “Not at eighteen. My dad had my wife chosen for me at the age of twelve. He wanted to control everything because he was afraid I’d leave like my mom did.”

  Layla absorbed what Phin said, but found none of it surprising. She continued to watch him, let him say what he needed to say. None of it was changing her mind.

  “Everything changed when I met you. I was still on that same treadmill as I’d been on for the first two years; it just paid better. I hadn’t made any real plans. I was still jumping from town to town, hitting tournaments and playing pool for twenty bucks a pop. You had everything I ever wanted. You come from a normal family with parents who expected you to go to college, get a job, and move out. You have friends, real friends who you talk to all the time. But you took one look at my life and you were willing to walk away from all of it.”

  She set her coffee on the table. “It was my choice. It had nothing to do with you.”

  “Yeah, it did. You looked at me and saw adventure and fun. You never saw the days of no shower for a week or picking someone’s pocket in hopes of finding a couple of bucks for dinner.” He rubbed a hand on his head. “I looked at you and saw my mom.”

  A laugh bubbled up. “That’s kind of sick.”

  He squeezed his eyes shut. “Not like that. She met my father during a con and fell in love with him. She thought the lifestyle of a gypsy was romantic. She never thought about how much she would miss having people outside the family to talk to. So she ran off. She left me out of desperation.”

  Phin crossed the space between them and squatted in front of her. “I never wanted you to be desperate to get away from me because I wouldn’t be able to give you the kind
of life you would want. I wasn’t good enough for you and I knew it, so I drove you away.”

  “Well, that was a crappy way to handle everything. I’m old enough to make my own decisions, and if I screw up, that’s on me. You don’t owe me anything. We had a great week together.” She inched forward in the chair with the intent to get up and leave. His story was over. He was sorry. So was she.

  He rose to his feet. “Wait.”

  She stood and their bodies were practically touching. Layla stared at his chest, remembering the feel of him under her hands.

  Phin’s hands cradled her jaw. “I want another chance to be the guy.”

  God, how she loved the way he touched her face, like she was delicate and beautiful. She licked her lips and asked, “What guy?”

  “The guy who’s good enough for you.” Again, he lowered his lips to hers and kissed her gently, asking forgiveness and permission.

  The walls around her heart crumbled and her chest hurt. It didn’t make any sense. They didn’t belong together. He’d been right about that, but when he held her and kissed her, it felt right.

  He pulled away. “Can I ask you a question?”

  She nodded.

  “Why are you really here? You don’t like pool that much.”

  Where to start? What could she tell him without becoming more vulnerable? She stepped away from him because she knew she’d be stronger without the weight of his arms for support. “I told you when we first met that I’m competitive. In Atlanta, you said I wasn’t good enough. I needed to prove to myself that I am.”

  “What? Of all the crappy things I did that last day, that’s the one that stands out for you? Why?” The look on his face was one of total bafflement.

  There was no way he could possibly understand. She needed to know she could handle anything—his betrayal, the tournament, a new life. Besides, focusing her energy on becoming a better player kept the panic attacks at bay. She hadn’t had one since leaving Atlanta. “Because I’m not the kind of person who fails. And for you to tell me that I wasn’t good enough was like a failure. I’m here to redeem myself.”

  “So am I.”

  His words carried so much more weight than hers, but she couldn’t explain why. “Good luck then.”