Wicked Nights. Anne Marsh
smiled and mimed blowing kisses while admiring an imaginary medal. Cal bet it was indeed gold in her imagination. Piper had never settled for being anything but the best. He had no idea how she could handle the constant references to her almost-successes, but she always had a smile when her spot on the team was mentioned, even if she usually changed the topic immediately. She’d had to drop out after the accident because, as superhumanly competitive as Piper was, even she couldn’t force her knee to heal fast enough for the world championships.
Sure enough, she pointed to Cal’s glass and deflected Big Petey’s interest in her diving dreams. “I’ll have what he’s having.”
Big Petey huffed. “Jack and cola. Coming right up.”
Piper snagged a handful of peanuts. “Cal here is predictable. He’s downing straight-up soda, and we all know it.”
He wasn’t that predictable. Was he? He turned on his stool and reached in to steal a handful of peanuts from Piper. And...wow. She hadn’t been wearing that dress earlier. In fact, he was certain he’d never seen her sleeveless mint-green number before. Little stripes covered the fabric, making him want to look closer, or maybe it was the woman in the dress. The thing had a neck high enough to pass muster with the most conservative of audiences—apparently he’d seen all he was seeing today of Piper’s breasts—but a dearth of fabric south of her butt, stopping a good two inches above her bare knees. She wore a pair of those sandals with laces that wrapped around her ankles and calves and made him think about unwrapping. Piper dressed up was dangerous.
She tugged the peanut bowl out of his reach. “Those are mine.”
Her eyes laughed at him, so he snagged a second handful.
“You bet. That’s what makes them taste so good.”
“You don’t change.” She sighed dramatically and then raised her glass in the air. “Cheers.”
“Right back at you.” He clinked his glass against hers. For a few minutes, they nursed their drinks companionably while the home team struck out on the television.
Daeg slid between them, depositing two empty bottles on the bar. “Wow. Now, here’s a sight you don’t see every day. There’s only twelve inches between the two of you, and no one’s fighting.”
“We don’t fight all the time,” Piper protested. “And you just took up all the space anyhow.”
Daeg eyed the peanuts and she nudged the bowl toward him. “Consider it a public service,” he said.
“Hey,” Cal protested at the peanut move. “You’re discriminating.”
Piper flashed him a grin as Big Petey swapped out Daeg’s empties. “You bet.”
“We get along.” Right. Like cats and dogs, oil and water...he could trot out every hackneyed, clichéd comparison and they’d all be accurate. He and Piper fought. Sparred. Lived to one-up each other.
Piper swiveled on her stool, her knee brushing his thigh. He did his best to ignore the small contact.
“Sometimes.” Daeg raised his bottle to Piper. “Cheers. But most of the time, the two of you are either fighting or daring each other to do stupid crap. I grew up here, too. I know exactly what the two of you got up to.”
Piper shrugged modestly. “What can I say? Cal here is suggestible.”
“Someone here is also a sucker for crazy dares,” Cal pointed out.
Piper had never met a dare she wouldn’t take. She’d done all sorts of crazy things over the years. She’d gone cliff jumping at midnight (which was when he’d discovered his calling as a rescue swimmer). Ridden in a string bikini printed with the American flag down the boardwalk on the back of his Harley (one of his all-time favorite memories). She’d engaged in a very failed attempt at bison tipping, after arguing that the island’s bison and cows were more or less interchangeable, and had instead discovered that bison patties stank to high heaven. She’d made him buy her a pair of new sneakers after that one, which he’d thought was fair.
Her grin lit up her face. “You should take more chances.”
Over his dead body. “And you’re going to kill yourself one of these days.”
That was the wrong thing to say. Her hand rubbed the scar on her knee self-consciously. They didn’t talk about the Jet Ski accident that had put an end to her diving career. She’d come far too close to dying. Fortunately, he’d completed emergency medical training as part of his rescue-swimmer education. After he’d saved her, he’d staunched the bleeding and thanked God a major artery had been missed. The crystal clear water of Discovery Island had looked like a bad shark attack had occurred that day.
“You up for a game of pool?” She practically jumped off the barstool as she made her getaway.
Daeg looked at him. “Nice going, asshole. Now, go make it up to her.”
“By letting her win?”
Cal collected their glasses. He debated grabbing the peanuts, too, but he wasn’t a waiter and Piper was already marching across the bar toward the pool tables in the backroom. She clearly expected him to follow, and he felt guilty enough for bringing up bad memories to indulge her.
Daeg shook his head. “No one lets Piper do anything. She just does it. She’ll win fair and square on her own.”
That was true, too. He followed her while he chewed on that one.
The bar’s pool table setup was ad hoc at best. Big Petey had gone for the more-is-better approach and shoehorned two pool tables into a space meant for one. The proximity didn’t leave a whole lot of room to maneuver.
Piper grabbed a cue stick from the rack on the wall, inspected the tip and leaned her hip against the table. She was good at looking confident. He’d give her that.
“Perfect. You’re in,” she said when he stepped into the room.
“Piper.” Her name came out as a growl.
“Watch,” Daeg said to Tag. Apparently, he hadn’t been able to resist the promise of a free show. “I’m predicting another crazy bet.”
“Twenty bucks,” Cal said, knowing she wanted something more than his cash. She probably would negotiate for his shaving his head bald or singing “The Star-Spangled Banner” in a monkey suit when the cruise ship docked, or any other embarrassing trick she could dream up.
“As if.” She waved a hand. “I don’t play for peanuts. Make it a hundred.”
They didn’t usually play for cash, but Piper couldn’t be making bank at the dive shop. She’d also bought in and owned part of the place, which had probably left her cash poor. Since he had plenty of cash, he was happy to share with her. It would mean losing intentionally, but as long as he made it look good...making sure Piper was fed and happy was worth it. Despite the way they constantly butted heads, he’d never wanted her upset or miserable.
“Ladies first.”
She rolled her eyes. “Way to set yourself up for the loss.”
He’d played her more times than he could count. Hell. He’d taught her to play. She was good, but he was better. He handed their drinks to Daeg and racked the balls.
She tugged on her ear and bent over the table. He’d seen her make the lucky gesture countless times on the diving platform, right before she hurtled through the air and ripped her entry. It must have worked, because she broke straight on, the balls scattering.
When the five ball rolled into the pocket, she straightened up. “Stripes. My favorite. It must be my lucky night.”
* * *
PIPER HAD NO idea why she’d gotten dressed up just to swing by Big Petey’s place. She’d been bored and lonely, though, going more than a little stir-crazy out at her place alone, so she’d hopped into her truck.