“My game.” Rafe held out his hand for the ten dollars Jared owed him. “You’re up, Dev.”
“I need a beer.”
“Jared’s buying.” Rafe grinned at his older brother. “Right, bro?”
“I bought last round.”
“You lost the last game.”
“So be a gracious winner. His tab,” Jared told the bartender, and held up three fingers.
“Hey, what about me?”
Jared flicked a glance at Shane. The redhead was clutching his arm like a fast-growing vine. “You’re driving, kid.”
“Flip for it.”
Obligingly, Jared took a coin from his pocket. “Call it.”
“Heads.”
He flipped the coin, caught it neatly. “Tails. You’re driving.”
With a philosophical shrug, Shane turned back to the redhead.
“Does he have to hit on everything in a skirt?” Rafe muttered while Devin racked the balls.
“Yep. Somebody had to take up where you left off.” Devin stepped back, chose his cue. “And since you’re spoken for…”
“Nobody said I was spoken for.” Rafe gave the curvy redhead a long look, felt nothing more than a low-level tug of basic appreciation. And thought of Regan, just thought of her and his heart shattered. “We’ve got an understanding.” He bit the words off, but still tasted bitterness. “Nothing serious.”
“He’s hooked.” Jared grinned and lifted his beer. “And his heart looks so pretty, right there on his sleeve.”
No way he was going to take the bait, Rafe thought. It was bad enough having your heart broken without having your family watch you fumble with the pieces. “You want to eat this cue?” Rafe executed his break, smugly pleased when two balls rolled into pockets.
“She came into the house today,” Devin said conversationally, “and that hook in his mouth dragged him right down the stairs like a trout on a fly. I think there were stars in his eyes, too.” Devin met Rafe’s steely look equably. “Yep, I’m sure of it.”
“Pretty soon he’s going to start shaving regular and wearing clean shirts.” Jared shook his head, as if in mourning. “Then we’ll know we’ve lost him.”
“Then it’ll be antique shows and ballets.” Devin heaved a heavy sigh. “Poetry readings.”
Because that hit entirely too close to home, Rafe jerked the cue and missed his shot. He wasn’t going to think of her. Damn it, he wasn’t going to give Regan or the hole in his gut a single thought. “Keep it up and I’ll take both of you on.”
“Well, I’m shaking.” After lining up his shot, Devin leaned over the table. He made his ball cleanly. As he circled the table, he sniffed at Rafe. “That cologne, lover-boy?”
“I’m not wearing any damn—” Rafe hissed out a breath. “You’re just jealous ’cause you’re sleeping alone on some cot outside a cell every night.”
“You got me there.”
Enjoying himself, Jared plugged coins into the jukebox. “What time do you have to be home, Rafe? We wouldn’t want you getting conked with a rolling pin for missing curfew.”
“How long have you been a practicing ass?” It was some small satisfaction to note that Duff was shooting them uneasy glances. A man didn’t like to lose his touch. “What’s the fine for breaking up a couple of chairs?”
Nostalgia swam sweetly along with the beer in Devin’s bloodstream. Unless he counted breaking his brothers up, and you could hardly count that, he hadn’t been in a decent fight in years.
“Can’t let you do it,” he said, with mildly drunk regret. “I carry a badge.”
“Take it off.” Rafe grinned. “And let’s beat hell out of Shane. For old times’ sake.”
Jared tapped his fingers on the juke in time to the music. He eyed their youngest brother, who was definitely making progress with the redhead. That alone was reason enough to punch him a few times.
“I’ve got enough on me to post bond,” Jared told them. “And a little extra to bribe the sheriff, if we have to.”
Devin sighed, straightened from the table. With brotherly affection, he studied the unsuspecting Shane. “Hell, he’s going to get his butt whipped before the night’s over, anyway, if he keeps playing with that girl. We might as well do it first.”
“We’ll be more humane,” Jared agreed.
The bartender watched them move together, recognized, with despair, the look in each eye. “Not in here. Come on now, Devin, you’re the law.”
“Just doing my brotherly duty.”
“What’s the idea?” Scenting trouble, Shane danced back from the bar. He scanned his brothers, shifted as they moved to flank him. “Three against one?” His mouth curved in a wide, reckless grin as other customers moved to safety. “Come on, then.”
He crouched, braced, then made the mistake of glancing over as the door opened. His mouth had already fallen open in surprise when Rafe caught him low and sent them both crashing into a table.
“You make it too easy.” Laughing, Rafe turned and caught him in a cheerful headlock. Then he went numb, right down to his toes.
The skirt barely made it past the legal limit. It wasn’t tight. It went beyond tight as it squeezed possessively over curvy hips in an eye-popping fire-engine red. The legs went on. And on. Rafe’s dazzled gape followed them down to the razor-sharp skyscraper heels in that same bold color.
When he managed to lift his gaze, he saw that the skinny black top was as snug as the skirt, and dipped down low over firm, unfettered breasts. It took him a full ten seconds to get to her face.
Her mouth was red and wet and curved. Beside it, the little mole was a bold exclamation of sex. Her hair was tousled, and her eyes were shadowed and heavy. She looked like a woman who’d just climbed out of bed, and was willing to climb right back in.
“Holy hell.” It was Shane’s strained muttering that jolted him out of shock. “Is that Regan in there? She is hot.”
Rafe didn’t have the strength to put much behind the punch. When he gained his feet and moved to the door, his head was still buzzing, as if he’d been the one to take the blow.
“What are you doing?”
She moved a shoulder, causing the excuse for a blouse to follow her stretch. “I thought I’d play a little nine-ball.”
There was something stuck in his throat. “Nine-ball?”
“Yeah.” She sauntered over to the bar, leaned an elbow on it. “Going to buy me a beer, MacKade?”
Chapter 12
If he kept staring at her, she was going to lose it, Regan thought. She was already so nervous that if her clothes hadn’t been girdled on, she’d have jumped out of them.
Because she’d wanted to make an entrance, she’d left her coat in the car. Only the heat of possible humiliation kept her teeth from chattering.
Her feet were killing her.
When Rafe didn’t answer, she scanned the room and tried not to swallow audibly at the stares. Gathering courage, she flashed a smile at the bartender. Even the weary-eyed Duff was goggling at her.
“I’ll have what he’s having.” When