No Surrender. Sara Arden

definitely a sign of the impending apocalypse.”

      “You know how much Lynnie loved you, right?”

      “Yeah.” She nodded. “And we have each other to remind ourselves of her. I think she’s still with us. In you. In me. In Eric.” Kentucky swallowed hard. “In Sean.”

      Rachel nodded. “So whatever happens, don’t let it make things weird.”

      “I won’t.” Or she’d try like hell. But change was inevitable. It happened to everything. Especially people, friendships—that was just the way of life.

      “So, even with my eyes watering from all the feels, how do I look?” Rachel tucked her hair behind her ear.

      “Like you got up on Eric’s side of the bed,” she teased.

      Rachel slapped her arm and blushed. “Well, you know...”

      Kentucky held up her hand. “This is all the girl talk I can handle at the moment. This is my quota for the night.” But she softened her words with a grin. “So next time give me the juicy details first and then we won’t have time to talk about me.”

      They made their way back to the table, next to which Eric and Sean had already started a game of pool. Kentucky grabbed her own beer and sat down to watch. Rachel didn’t hesitate to harass Eric while he was trying to make a shot, blowing in his ear, tickling his neck, rubbing up against his back.

      Sean shot her a look that seemed to be one of sympathy for Eric. Kentucky shrugged as if to say, “What can you do?”

      Suddenly, she found a pool stick shoved in her face.

      “Take over my light work, huh, Kentucky?” Eric asked. “I’m obviously not getting anywhere, since Rachel wants to dance.”

      She accepted the stick and approached the table, trying to figure out a strategy to beat Sean.

      “We could start over,” Sean offered.

      “Nah, I like a challenge.” She continued to study the table.

      He moved silently, stealthily, and slid up beside her, his arm around her waist. “You sure you don’t want to start over?”

      She had the idea he was talking about something other than the game, but she didn’t quite understand what he meant.

      God, but he smelled good. Playing any game with him in proximity was definitely going to be a challenge. She couldn’t concentrate. All she could think about was him bending her over the pool table, pulling her hair and taking her right there.

      “I don’t need to start over. I can play the hand that’s dealt me. Or in this case, the balls.” Jeez, that sounded way dirtier than what she meant.

      “Oh, really?” He arched his brow and flashed her a smirk.

      She felt her face go hot again and knew she had to be blushing, but she wasn’t embarrassed. Or at least, that was what she told herself, and she certainly wasn’t going to let Golden Boy outdo her.

      On anything.

      “Yeah, really.” She slid her fingers up and down the end of the pool cue slowly and with obvious purpose. “I’m extra good with this, too.” Kentucky leaned over the table. “Nine and eleven in the corner pocket.”

      She took her shot and the balls followed her prediction and dipped into the pocket. Kentucky took her next shot but succeeded only in setting up the next play.

      “I guess you handle your balls well.”

      She leaned over the table again, examining all possible outcomes to the game, plotting her strategy, and tried not to think about the innuendo. Before Mossy Rock, she’d have played this game until they both ran out of puns and the double entendres were so ridiculous they both laughed until their stomachs hurt.

      But now she thought about him touching her. Thought about how she wanted to do all those things with him again.

      He took his shot and completely missed.

      “You’re cheating,” he accused, but his tone was light. Teasing.

      “What do you mean?”

      “Don’t act like you didn’t do that on purpose. You’re much craftier than that.”

      She looked down at where he pointed and saw that the V-neck of her shirt gave him a rather spectacular view of her pink lacy bra and the curves of the tops of her breasts.

      Kentucky kept trying to ignore the butterflies in her belly, the burn between her legs as she thought of him looking at her body and being so entranced that he missed his shot. “You’re right, I am much craftier than that.” She swallowed her fear and decided to let the conversation take them where it would instead of trying so hard to monitor her feelings, her thoughts and what she had to say about them.