How To Get Your Man

She looked at the chalk, which was falling in crumbles to the ground. He was making her nervous, that was all. She blew the residue off the top of the cue and set the chalk down.

“Consider that your first lesson,” Dalton said devilishly.

“In—” She realized what he meant. “Oh, jeez, Dalton. Keep your mind out of the gutter.”

“And you get off your high horse.” He stepped back and gestured for her to break. “Consider that lesson two. A little gutter thinking could only help your cause.”

“There’s a difference between sex and the gutter, you know.”

His smile was sly. “It’s a fine line.”

He was kidding, and it was obnoxious, but she was struck by how sexy he still was. Suddenly she remembered what it felt like to fall for Dalton. She recalled the feeling of being with him in the back seat of his old Chevy Impala, remembered the feel of his muscular body, the taste of him, the smell of him. After eleven years the memory should have faded, but it hadn’t.

Eager to push the thoughts aside, she bent over the table and broke the balls with a loud crack. The heavy balls scattered, bouncing off the velvet walls of the table. The cue ball jumped the side and dropped heavily onto the floor.

Dalton looked at the cue ball for a moment, then calmly bent over, picked it up and set it on the table.

“Something on your mind?” he asked, straight-faced.

“I think it’s your turn.”

He laughed and dropped two striped balls into pockets before scratching. Bonnie took a cleansing breath and made one clean shot, six ball into the corner pocket.

After that, her game improved considerably and for a good half she was ahead. She was already counting the money she’d save with a month off from rent when Dalton had a long streak of good luck. He won by a single point.

“I’m thinking I’m in the mood for spaghetti and meatballs,” he said, with a languorous stretch. “With garlic bread. The real kind, not that stuff you buy at the grocery store.”

“You’re going to stink.”

“That’s right.” He smiled. “Hopefully sooner, rather than later. I’m starving.”

“I demand a rematch.”

He shook his head. “This one was too close for comfort. Think I’m gonna take a chance on losing out on all that home cooking? I’m no fool.”

Bonnie heaved a long sigh. “I hope you’re not,” she said. “Suddenly it seems my future rides on it.”

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