Hustle Him (Bank Shot Romance #2)(5)
Author: Jennifer Foor

I was starting to get pissed. “Seriously? I am standing here half naked and you want to know if it’s new? Do I not look sexy to you?”

He laughed at me and started shaking his head. “Jesus Christ, Vessa. I worked all damn day and you’re going to start on me the second I walk in the door? You look nice, but I’m tired and you never told me you were doing any of this shit. I can’t read your damn mind.”

I felt defeated. No matter what I did to try to sway him back into romance, I failed.

Instead of following him into the bathroom, I changed into a pair of yoga pants and a tank top and sobbed on the couch. Gavin never even came back out. I heard him snoring a while later and then cried some more. I suppose it would have been easier if I had my mother to talk to. I just wanted to feel like someone loved me.

For the next week I continued to work hard on getting Gavin to want me. Each night he came home and ignored me. After five days, I’d pretty much given up all hope. I looked forward to going to work and being out of the house for a while.

Unfortunately, when I got to the bar the plumbing had busted. Two inches of water was all over the floor. The owner was standing outside on his phone. He put his hand over it and looked right at me. “You may as well go home for the day, Vessa. The repair guy can’t get here until after five. I’m just going to stay closed.”

“You sure you don’t need my help?”

“Yeah, take a day for yourself. I can handle this shit here.”

I climbed back in my car and started to go home. Since it had been a while since I’d been to the shop, I decided to stop by and see Gavin. For the most part they worked by appointments only, so it was important that I not disturb him during a session. I’d hate to be the reason someone walked around with the wrong name on their arm.

They never had anyone working the front counter, but there was a girl standing there. She had her lip pierced and had some kind of flower going across her neck. Her clothes were all black, very tight and very revealing. She flipped her dark hair back away from her face. “Are you here for a tattoo or piercing?”

I laughed and shook my head. “I’m Gavin’s wife.”

She seemed shocked. “Oh..Um, let me go get him for you.”

I grabbed her arm. “It’s fine. I know where to find him.”

“He’s with a client, I think. Let me just go check.” She seemed adamant, and I didn’t want to make him mad, so I stood still while she rushed by me.

Gavin came out but never smiled when he saw me standing there. “Hey, babe, what are you doing here?” He asked under his breath.

I don’t know what it was, but I got the feeling that he didn’t want me there. I wanted to know why and I was going to find out. If that bastard was cheating again, I wasn’t going to sit around forgiving him.

Chapter 3

Ramsey

As the months went by, there seemed to be no way out of reliving that night. I was haunted every single minute that I was breathing. I didn’t know what I’d done to deserve such torture, but couldn’t see a way out of it.

My job was mundane in my little old town, but it put food on the table and kept my whiskey bottle full. Maybe if things were different, I would be able to move on. I still missed them so much. I missed the way Jules hair smelled when she climbed into bed after her shower. I missed the way I never had any covers, because my daughter had climbed into bed between us and wrapped herself up in them. Then there was their beautiful smiles and the way they both told me they loved me; the way they showed me they loved me.

They didn’t deserve to die. I didn’t deserve this solitary life that I was being forced to live in. I’d rather be dead than to feel this emptiness every day for the rest of my life.

There was one thing that made me focus on something else other than my girls. Ever since I was in the academy, I’d grown to have a love for the game of billiards. I wasn’t the best there was, but I was a damn good shot. To keep my personal life separate from being the sheriff, and not allowing anyone in my small town to pry, I would drive a town over to shoot a good game and walk away with a few more or sometimes a few less dollars in my pocket.

It may have been temporary, but it took my mind off of it all.

The bartender was named Sue. She looked to be in her mid-sixties and had a smoker’s cough that you could hear just about every ten seconds. I was positive the woman had emphysema, although she never claimed to be sick. “You want the usual, Ramsey?”

“Yeah, that’ll be great.” She poured a Jack and Coke and added some ice, before sliding it across the bar.

I looked into the rear part of the bar where the pool tables sat. On any given night a new set of players were available. This little bar was located on a stretch of road that truck drivers frequented. It had pretty good food and there wasn’t another place for miles.

Two bigger guys were already back there shooting against each other. I leaned back against the bar and kept watching them. Sue leaned over so she didn’t have to yell. “They’ve been here since three this afternoon. If you want an opponent than I suggest you head over there now, before they can’t even hold the sticks.”

I looked back and saw her wink at me. She didn’t know my story, but I think that bartenders had a way of reading people. She knew something had happened to me, but at the same time, she never asked what it was.

Sue also knew that I was the sheriff of another town. When strangers got rowdy and I was around, I made sure they left her establishment. She was just a little old lady that didn’t need that kind of trouble. Occasionally, she had asked me to come over to her house to help her out when things weren’t working. Since she’d lost her husband a while back, she didn’t really have anyone else.

“Let me see if I get a couple games out of them.” I grabbed my glass and walked over toward the two guys.

They were both typical truck driver looking guys. Both had beards and large stomachs from eating on the road all the time. It was a force of habit for me to study the details of people. The dude with the lighter hair wore a wedding ring, where his buddy did not. Usually, but not always, married men were a little more harder to sway into playing for money. Most were already treading water when it came to keeping their wives happy. It wasn’t easy to be gone all the time.

I looked toward his friend and took another sip of my drink. “You up for a little competition?”

They looked at each other before turning their attention back to me. “What do you have in mind?”