Love Is All Around Read Free Page B

through the handle. Flicking her wrist like she was flipping flapjacks, she poured the beer down the front of Dwayne’s jeans.
    Will smiled. Slick move.
    “What the hell is wrong with you? You have no sense of humor at all.” Dwayne jumped away from the dripping mug and slapped his hands against his wet crotch.
    As Will passed a nearby table, he grabbed a white bar towel and threw it to Dwayne. “Long time, Dwayne, Randy. How’s it going?”
    “Well, Will Barnes. I heard you were back in town.” Dwayne mopped at his wet jeans. “Excuse my mess; my little sister is still as prickly as a cocklebur.”
    Looking completely devoid of remorse, Patsy stood at the pool table pretending to line up a shot.
    “You looking for a game?” Will nodded his head at the empty table.
    Still bent over the pool cue, Patsy ignored him.
    “You don’t want to play her,” Dwayne interrupted. “Let me buy you a beer.”
    “So, are you looking for a game?” Will repeated, adding just a hint of a challenge.
    Her eyes flickered. Standing, she replied, “I guess I can handle just one.” She sauntered to the middle of the table and shoved quarters into the coin slots.
    She had a natural sway to her step, almost athletic. Her short hair bounced against her neck, leaving Will again with the urge to comb his fingers through the teasing locks.
    The balls rolled down with a thud, bringing him back to the moment.
    “You break,” Patsy said. “I don’t want to be accused of cheating when I beat your city ass.”
    Will grinned. “No ladies first?”
    “No ladies here.” Dwayne guffawed. “Let’s get a beer.” He waved Randy toward the bar. Ruthann watched them leave, but took a seat at a nearby table.
    Will went to select a cue. When he turned back to the pool table, Patsy Lee was stretched across the top, rolling the rack into position. The view of her shorts pulled high on her thighs stopped his breath somewhere around his heart. Nothing like a nice round rear to put a man off his game. He wondered if he could call a handicap.
    Patsy popped back onto the floor. “All ready.”
    Something was ready, but he was pretty sure it wasn’t what Patsy Lee was referring to.
    With a smile, he replied, “Glad to hear it.”
    She stepped back. “You gonna break, or what?”
    Or what , Will’s inner letch screamed. “Just getting a feel for the table,” he replied.
    Patsy Lee rolled her eyes. “It feels like a pool table. Break already.” She cocked her hip and leaned against the table.
    Placing the cue ball on the felt, Will lined up his shot. Patsy Lee leaned forward, resting one fine-boned hand on the green felt. Her nails were short and unpolished. His fiancée’s had always been long and fake. Couldn’t open a pop can for fear of messing up her manicure. Will bet Patsy Lee faced the dreaded pop top head on.
    Patsy drummed her soda-can-defeating fingernails on the table top.
    Subtle.
    Not bothering to aim, Will took his shot. The balls zipped to the four corners but came short of falling into the pockets.
    “What a shame. Guess it’s my choice.”
    Will could feel her sorrow.
    Grinning, she pointed her stick at a solid, “Corner pocket.”
    “You don’t have to call them,” Will commented.
    “Oh, but when you’re winning, it’s so much more fun that way.” A snap, a thump, and the sound of the seven ball rolling under the table followed.
    “You might want to sit down,” Ruthann called from behind her wine cooler. “Once she gets going, it can be a long wait till your turn—if you get it.”
    “You planning on clearing the table?” Will asked.
    “Not the whole table, just the solids—then the eight ball, of course. Excuse me.” Patsy brushed against him on her way to the chalk, leaving a light floral scent in her wake.
    Her perfume was alluring but unpretentious, like kite-flying, Easter egg hunts, and rolling down a grassy hillside. All things Will never did as a child. All things his father said were a waste of