Read Online Hustle Him (Bank Shot Romance #2) by Jennifer Foor - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Jennifer Foor
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never communicate with anyone outside of work. Shooting pool was my only escape and even then, I never had to talk about my life. When people shot for money, they didn't really ask your whole life story.
Each time I went into the bar for a hot meal, she was there, with those sexy eyes, trying to figure me out. I didn't blame her. It was what a good bartender did. It was what a cop did.
I often wondered if she'd asked Sue about me, and if she had, what was said about it. Nobody knew the real truth. None of them knew that I carried the burden of killing them. They didn't know that I was living in a real life Hell.
One night, after a long shift, where someone was in a horrific car accident, I found myself walking into the bar. My guard was down and I was wearing my guilt on my shoulders. Vessa was at the bar, talking to someone I recognized as a regular. She glanced over at me and smiled. Regrettably, I smiled back at her. Knowing that this was the first real time that I had showed any type of emotion, aside from being in a bad mood, she put herself out there. "How are you today, Sheriff?"
"Do you really want to know?" I sat down on a stool across from her and watched as she made my usual drink and slid it over.
"It's my job to ask."
"That isn't what I asked you." I realized that this was the most that I'd talked to her, aside from the times where a catastrophe had occurred.
She let out a giggle and shook her head. "Do you really want to know my opinion? I mean, you hardly say two words to me each time you come in to eat. I can take a hint and I know when my company isn't wanted. Just let me know what you want to eat and I will get it for you so you can head over to your corner and eat in private." She seemed offended immediately and turned around so that I couldn't see her face.
The person at the other end of the bar paid their tab and left, which meant it was only Vessa and I in the bar. We were in between the early and late dinner rush. This was a situation that I didn't want to be in. "It ain't about you, Vessa." I sort of yelled it across the bar. I don't know why I cared about her feelings, but I needed her to know that.
She walked back in front of me and put her hands on the bar to lean forward. "You actually know my name now?"
"I've always known your name. Look, I'm not the kind of guy that you want to know." She needed to stay away from me. I was bad luck and she was trying to start over.
"I will be the judge of who I keep company with, you got that?" She kept leaning in, waiting for me to respond. "You have no idea what I've been through. Don't you dare judge me."
I liked that she held her ground. Most people steered clear, but she kept pressing; waiting for an opening like I had just given her. "I stand corrected. I don't socialize."
"I see you socialize every time you play pool. Don't tell me you aren't capable."
I shook my head and regretted walking through the door. "That's different."
She walked away from me. I watched her leave the bar area and head over to the pool table. She picked up the cue ball and turned to face me. "Since we have to be around each other, I think it is only fair that I get to know you, at least a little."
I grabbed my glass and headed in her direction.
This was a terrible idea.
I approached her and looked down at the petite woman. "Only the winner gets to ask questions." This would guarantee that I didn't have to tell her anything about myself.
She smiled, while walking toward the bar again. Without looking back she called out, "I'm not that good."
I was going to be alright. I would beat her ass a couple of times and she would give up on the questioning. "Just try your best. We can play nine ball and you don't have to call your shot."
She grabbed a pool stick and fumbled it between her fingers, like she'd never held one before. "Is this right?"
I nodded and decided to give her the break. She positioned the cue ball and did her best to break up the rack. A few
Each time I went into the bar for a hot meal, she was there, with those sexy eyes, trying to figure me out. I didn't blame her. It was what a good bartender did. It was what a cop did.
I often wondered if she'd asked Sue about me, and if she had, what was said about it. Nobody knew the real truth. None of them knew that I carried the burden of killing them. They didn't know that I was living in a real life Hell.
One night, after a long shift, where someone was in a horrific car accident, I found myself walking into the bar. My guard was down and I was wearing my guilt on my shoulders. Vessa was at the bar, talking to someone I recognized as a regular. She glanced over at me and smiled. Regrettably, I smiled back at her. Knowing that this was the first real time that I had showed any type of emotion, aside from being in a bad mood, she put herself out there. "How are you today, Sheriff?"
"Do you really want to know?" I sat down on a stool across from her and watched as she made my usual drink and slid it over.
"It's my job to ask."
"That isn't what I asked you." I realized that this was the most that I'd talked to her, aside from the times where a catastrophe had occurred.
She let out a giggle and shook her head. "Do you really want to know my opinion? I mean, you hardly say two words to me each time you come in to eat. I can take a hint and I know when my company isn't wanted. Just let me know what you want to eat and I will get it for you so you can head over to your corner and eat in private." She seemed offended immediately and turned around so that I couldn't see her face.
The person at the other end of the bar paid their tab and left, which meant it was only Vessa and I in the bar. We were in between the early and late dinner rush. This was a situation that I didn't want to be in. "It ain't about you, Vessa." I sort of yelled it across the bar. I don't know why I cared about her feelings, but I needed her to know that.
She walked back in front of me and put her hands on the bar to lean forward. "You actually know my name now?"
"I've always known your name. Look, I'm not the kind of guy that you want to know." She needed to stay away from me. I was bad luck and she was trying to start over.
"I will be the judge of who I keep company with, you got that?" She kept leaning in, waiting for me to respond. "You have no idea what I've been through. Don't you dare judge me."
I liked that she held her ground. Most people steered clear, but she kept pressing; waiting for an opening like I had just given her. "I stand corrected. I don't socialize."
"I see you socialize every time you play pool. Don't tell me you aren't capable."
I shook my head and regretted walking through the door. "That's different."
She walked away from me. I watched her leave the bar area and head over to the pool table. She picked up the cue ball and turned to face me. "Since we have to be around each other, I think it is only fair that I get to know you, at least a little."
I grabbed my glass and headed in her direction.
This was a terrible idea.
I approached her and looked down at the petite woman. "Only the winner gets to ask questions." This would guarantee that I didn't have to tell her anything about myself.
She smiled, while walking toward the bar again. Without looking back she called out, "I'm not that good."
I was going to be alright. I would beat her ass a couple of times and she would give up on the questioning. "Just try your best. We can play nine ball and you don't have to call your shot."
She grabbed a pool stick and fumbled it between her fingers, like she'd never held one before. "Is this right?"
I nodded and decided to give her the break. She positioned the cue ball and did her best to break up the rack. A few
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