“You’re tryin’ to make me lose, aren’t you?” She points at me and scowls. “It’s not gonna work. I’m a nun-in-training and am completely immune to you.”

“Is that so?” I puff out my chest to prove she’s lying.

Maize blinks hard as if she’s trying to look away but can’t. “Yep. Doesn’t faze me one bit. You’re just wasting your time.”

“Then why do you keep talkin’ about it?” I challenge.

“Whatever. I’m not.” She leans down again to focus on the ball. I shift my body until I’m in her line of sight, and when she goes to make her move, I grip the edge of the table as hard as I can. The veins in my hand pop out right before she strikes the cue ball, causing her to put too much force behind the shot, and the ball bounces onto the floor.

“Shit!” She slams the bottom of the stick against the floor and pouts. “You did that on purpose!”

Bending down, I grab it and walk over to her. Her breath hitches as I close the gap between us, and her eyes lower down my chest and stomach once again.

“I think you dropped this…” I hold the ball out for her, but she doesn’t move.

Knowing I’m getting to her, I reach down and place the ball in her palm, then flash her a wink. “Wanna try it again?”

Finally, she blinks and steps back, putting at least a foot of space between us. “No, that’d be cheating. It’s your turn.”

“Alright.” I grin as I take my position and call the pocket. Moments later, I sink my last ball.

She groans loudly, and I laugh.

“Problem?” I ask, looking over my shoulder.

She glares at me, shaking her head, and I bring my focus back to the eight-ball.

“Middle pocket,” I say, then shoot it in perfectly.

“Looks like I’m buying shots,” she says, defeated.

I put up our sticks, then tilt her chin up until our eyes meet. “Or we could skip them, and you could come home with me.”

Maize looks like she’s gonna pass out as she stares at me intently. I’m pretty sure I’ve shocked her into silence. The corner of my lips tilts up in amusement as I watch her mind spin out of control.

“It’s a yes or no question, Maize. You look like you’re trying to solve a trigonometric equation.”

She wrinkles her nose and finally inhales a breath. “I-I’m a mess. You heard how awful I am with dating…” She holds out her hand, motioning to the bar. “And you witnessed firsthand how pathetic I am at flirting. I mean, seriously, it’s sad. So, why would you—”