A gentleman shouldn’t stare at a woman. But Ethan didn’t consider himself a ‘gentle’ man.
Pool, after all, was a game of angles and strategy and keeping an eye on the opponent.
Theo’s first shot broke the trio of balls and pocketed two. She stood, and her blouse glided back.
“This is a betting game,” she said.
Ethan laughed. “Really? Your break shot is nearly impossible to beat, and now you want to wager.”
She shrugged. “I might miss. You never know.”
Ethan doubted it. Not the way she handled the stick. She considered her next shot, then bent over to make it.
Bam. The third ball found the pocket, and the cue ball lazily rolled to mid-table.
“You’re up.” She retrieved and racked the balls for him.
He should have gone to the motel to get some relief from his aching leg. But he wasn’t quite ready to tell this woman good-bye.
“Beating two isn’t impossible.” Ethan leaned to the side to take the weight off his bad foot, then prepared for his shot.
“It follows the principle of elastic energy consumption that factors into how the cue ball interacts with the others,” he said. “A simple matter of equal energy transfer.”
He peeked over his shoulder to gauge Theo’s reaction. “All about equal angles; equal velocity.”
Unphased, she leaned on her stick and jutted her chin. “Bring it on.”
Maybe he’d misjudged this woman. He liked her bad-ass attitude. He jimmied his body position to adjust his approach, then slid the stick under his bridged fingers. The third time he struck the cue ball like a missile on target.
By the grace of all saints, the racked balls split and banked. Each one went into a pocket, and the white ball came to rest precisely mid-table.
Thank God for the laws of physics.
He squared his shoulders and faced his worthy opponent. “Shall we wager on the next round?”
Copyright Candace Colt 2019