and weren’t the brightest penny in the piggy bank.
“You don’t have to entertain me if you want to go out with Britney. I can go back to the hotel.”
“I meant what I said. I promised Nick I’d be here, and I said we’d go dancing.”
Maggie’s eyes widened. Why did she find it so shocking that he kept his word? The blow stung.
He’d been glad to have an excuse to get rid of Britney. He never returned to a relationship once he ended things.
He grabbed a cue from the rack on the wall. “You ready to play, or have you changed your mind?”
“I don’t scare easily.”
After he racked the balls, he bowed. “Ladies first.”
“You said you were chained to the desk while Rory was gone. I take it you didn’t enjoy running the ranch?” Maggie lined up her shot, and with precision, sent the cue ball racing across the table. Balls scattered, with the two ball darting into a side pocket.
“I’m still having flashbacks whenever I see piles of papers.” Griffin shuddered. Despite hating the spotlight, Rory had stepped in front of the camera to earn the money for their mom’s first round of treatments. While he modeled, Griffin had managed the ranch. Now it was his turn to sacrifice. “The job was a major pain in the ass. I didn’t have time or energy to do anything else. I don’t know how Rory stands it, sitting at his desk the better part of the day and going over accounts, trying to save a few pennies.”
“The four ball in the corner pocket.” Maggie flawlessly executed her shot. Maybe she hadn’t been overly confident. “Now that your brother is back, what’re you doing?”
As soon as Rory had returned, Griffin reverted to his hired hand job. But instead of saying that, he plastered a smile on his face. “I see to the horses and maintain the property.”
“If I hadn’t gone into television I wanted to work with animals.”
Too bad he hadn’t gotten to choose because he’d had a different plan for his life. He’d expected by now to be a national bull-riding champion, but those dreams had died five years ago when his dad suffered a heart attack behind the wheel and crashed the truck they were in. Because of a broken back and damaged vertebra, not only had Griffin been forced to give up the rodeo, he hadn’t been able to ride a horse since. Another fall could result in a severe spinal cord injury. Although he’d wanted to risk returning to the circuit, his mother begged him to quit, saying she couldn’t stand worrying he’d end up in a wheelchair every time he stepped in an arena.
He shook off the memories. Life was what it was. No point dwelling on the past.
Maggie called out her next shot, making that one, too.
“Hey, you gonna give me a chance, or am I just here to watch?”
“I warned you.” She kissed the three ball off the nine into the side pocket, and taunted him with a saucy grin.
“How’d you get to be such a shark?”
Her smile faded. The little V appeared above the bridge of her nose. In the short time he’d known her he’d learned that probably meant she was worried or upset.
“My father liked to go to Charlie’s Tavern on Saturdays when Mom worked. He took me and my brothers along. Since there wasn’t anything else to do, we played pool.”
The tight tone in her voice made Griffin think her being upset was the likelier option. He wondered what she’d left out of the story.
“Five ball in the corner pocket.” This time her shot went right.
Yup, she’d definitely left out something important.
“Griff,” a familiar voice called out.
Turning toward the restaurant, he spotted Hunter and his girlfriend, Denise, making a beeline for him. The last thing he wanted to do was explain Maggie to his friends, but unless he made a break for it, he was stuck.
“I heard you’d been set free.” Hunter slapped him on the back. “The town’s still buzzing about Rory shooting that commercial at Twin Creeks. I never pegged him as the model type.”
No kidding. “I think it was temporary insanity.”
Griffin lined up his shot and sank the ten ball in a side pocket.
“I saw his billboard. It’s amazing,” Denise interjected in a dreamy voice. Then she walked across the room to Maggie. “Since Griffin appears to have forgotten his manners, I’ll introduce myself. I’m Denise.” She pointed to her boyfriend. “That’s Hunter.”
After the introductions, Hunter looked at Griffin, nodded toward the table filled with stripes and asked, “What’re you, solids?”
“Unfortunately, I’m stripes.” Griffin sank his next two shots before he missed.
“Looks like you’re going down in flames.”
“Thanks, I hadn’t noticed.” What was the big deal? Griffin was secure enough that a woman beating him at pool didn’t bother him. His friends witnessing the event and ribbing him about it, though, was something different. “I was a gentleman and let her go first. I won’t make that mistake again.”
Maggie lined up her shot, sank the last solid and then the eight ball. “You owe me five bucks.”
As Griffin paid up, Hunter said, “I should’ve caught this monumental occasion on my iPhone so I could post it on YouTube.”
Just what Griffin wanted—viral humiliation. Then a thought hit him. This embarrassment was nothing compared to what he’d suffer when the show hit TVs across America.
“Hunter, I’ll take you on if you think you can beat me,” Maggie taunted as she leaned on her pool cue. “I’ll even let you go first. Unless you’re afraid to lose to a woman.” She flashed his friend a wide grin, as if she were a cat telling a mouse she’d give him a head start before she gave chase.
Smart enough to seize a diversion, Griffin added, “Put up or shut up, Hunter.”
“I like a challenge.”
“You won’t sound so confident in a few minutes,” Griffin muttered.
Maggie racked the balls and Hunter lined up his shot.
“Ten says she beats you,” Griffin taunted.
Denise turned to Maggie. “Hunter thinks he’s the best pool player since Minnesota Fats. I’d love to see you put him in his place. Then maybe he wouldn’t spend all his free time playing pool, reading about pool—”
“Aw, babe. You know that’s how I relax after a long day.”
As Hunter took his shot, Denise asked, “How do you know Griffin?”
“We’re working together on a TV show.”
“We’re working on a Twin Creeks’ project.”
He and Maggie spoke simultaneously.
“What show?” Denise asked, completely ignoring Griffin.
Hands fisted inside his front pockets, Griffin barreled forward, hoping to avert impending disaster. “You wouldn’t have heard of it.”
He flashed Maggie a play-along-with-me glare, but unfortunately, her attention remained focused on the pool table. “Maybe Hunter hasn’t, but I bet Denise has. She’s our target audience. I’m the director on Finding Mrs. Right.”
Hunter sank his shot, and then Maggie glanced Griffin’s way. She paled when she spotted him scowling at her. Too late now.
Griffin held his breath. If Lady Luck shined on him, Denise wouldn’t have heard of the blasted program.
“Isn’t that the dating show you make me