medicine for her anxiety. Graduation came and went, and her new job started in two weeks. The timing couldnât have been better.
A few players walked by and looked at her, but said nothing. Many of them seemed to know each other. She heard greetings all throughout the hall. Maybe the world of pool was small. She could ask if Phin was there. Or she could wait for the pairings to be listed. Tomorrow morning would come soon enough.
She shoved her papers into her bag and headed to the practice area. The banquet hall had been transformed into a huge pool hall. For all the smacking of balls, the silence between opponents screamed. Noticing the way everyone was dressed, she scanned her memory for directions. Had the guy said there was a dress code for the practice area? She glanced down at her T-shirt and jeans. They were clean and respectable.
Moving down the length of the hall, Layla kept her eyes on the tables. People were here to win. It wasnât like playing in a bar for twenty bucks. These players used practice as a means to assess the competition before actual play. She saw it on their faces, calculating who they thought they could beat.
She knew better than to tip her hand. She wouldnât let them test her confidence. It would be her luck to get into a game with a pro and not realize it until he tromped all over her. No. Better not to practice here. She checked her watch. If she had a quick bite to eat in her room, she could find a local bar to practice at and still get a good nightâs sleep.
Plus, she wouldnât have to worry about running into Phin if he was here.
An hour later, the sun sat burning low in the sky as she stepped out of a cab. After sheâd flirted with the concierge, he had recommended this bar and assured her not only that had he not referred any other player there, but that it was clean and friendly.
The noise of the bar put her at ease. If only she could pipe these sounds into the competition hall. She grabbed a beer and walked around to find a pool table. When she reached the back of the bar, her heart jumped into her throat. A man leaned over the table to take a shot. Although she couldnât see his face, she knew that ass. Her body responded before her brain. By the time her brain told her to back out of the room, he had straightened and turned as if someone had called his name.
Phin.
Had she said it out loud?
He stared at her, and the first thing she noticed was that heâd cut his hair. It was close-cropped and highlighted his eyes more than ever. But she still couldnât read them.
Layla swallowed hard and forced a smile. Sheâd known this was a possibility. Well, not here, but she had known this had been his plan. Sheâd done what she could to prepare for it, but it hadnât been nearly enough.
She was strong and wouldnât let him get to her. He needed to know that too, so she took a couple of steps. She channeled her inner ice queen, but it didnât feel right with Phin. âHi, Phin.â
His mouth opened and closed. Phin, man of few words, was speechless. Big surprise.
He stepped forward and raised his hand to touch her and then let it drop. âLayla.â
He spoke her name as if he needed to hear it to know it was her. She just nodded.
âWhat are you doing here?â
âIâm in the tournament. After listening to you talk about the purse on this one tournament, I couldnât pass it up.â
He continued to stare at her, and she knew he wasnât listening to her at all. She remembered the feeling of being taken in by the mere sight of a person. But she couldnât understand his reaction when he was the one who had pushed her away.
âHow have you been?â
âGood. I finished school, landed a great job that I start in a couple of weeks, and spent time prepping for the tournament.â She took a sip from her beer more to wet her throat than because she was thirsty. Who knew how hard it could
A few players walked by and looked at her, but said nothing. Many of them seemed to know each other. She heard greetings all throughout the hall. Maybe the world of pool was small. She could ask if Phin was there. Or she could wait for the pairings to be listed. Tomorrow morning would come soon enough.
She shoved her papers into her bag and headed to the practice area. The banquet hall had been transformed into a huge pool hall. For all the smacking of balls, the silence between opponents screamed. Noticing the way everyone was dressed, she scanned her memory for directions. Had the guy said there was a dress code for the practice area? She glanced down at her T-shirt and jeans. They were clean and respectable.
Moving down the length of the hall, Layla kept her eyes on the tables. People were here to win. It wasnât like playing in a bar for twenty bucks. These players used practice as a means to assess the competition before actual play. She saw it on their faces, calculating who they thought they could beat.
She knew better than to tip her hand. She wouldnât let them test her confidence. It would be her luck to get into a game with a pro and not realize it until he tromped all over her. No. Better not to practice here. She checked her watch. If she had a quick bite to eat in her room, she could find a local bar to practice at and still get a good nightâs sleep.
Plus, she wouldnât have to worry about running into Phin if he was here.
An hour later, the sun sat burning low in the sky as she stepped out of a cab. After sheâd flirted with the concierge, he had recommended this bar and assured her not only that had he not referred any other player there, but that it was clean and friendly.
The noise of the bar put her at ease. If only she could pipe these sounds into the competition hall. She grabbed a beer and walked around to find a pool table. When she reached the back of the bar, her heart jumped into her throat. A man leaned over the table to take a shot. Although she couldnât see his face, she knew that ass. Her body responded before her brain. By the time her brain told her to back out of the room, he had straightened and turned as if someone had called his name.
Phin.
Had she said it out loud?
He stared at her, and the first thing she noticed was that heâd cut his hair. It was close-cropped and highlighted his eyes more than ever. But she still couldnât read them.
Layla swallowed hard and forced a smile. Sheâd known this was a possibility. Well, not here, but she had known this had been his plan. Sheâd done what she could to prepare for it, but it hadnât been nearly enough.
She was strong and wouldnât let him get to her. He needed to know that too, so she took a couple of steps. She channeled her inner ice queen, but it didnât feel right with Phin. âHi, Phin.â
His mouth opened and closed. Phin, man of few words, was speechless. Big surprise.
He stepped forward and raised his hand to touch her and then let it drop. âLayla.â
He spoke her name as if he needed to hear it to know it was her. She just nodded.
âWhat are you doing here?â
âIâm in the tournament. After listening to you talk about the purse on this one tournament, I couldnât pass it up.â
He continued to stare at her, and she knew he wasnât listening to her at all. She remembered the feeling of being taken in by the mere sight of a person. But she couldnât understand his reaction when he was the one who had pushed her away.
âHow have you been?â
âGood. I finished school, landed a great job that I start in a couple of weeks, and spent time prepping for the tournament.â She took a sip from her beer more to wet her throat than because she was thirsty. Who knew how hard it could