Over the past few weeks, she'd thought about investigating Mr. Rob Sutter. Besides being rude and obnoxious, all she really knew about him was that he drove a HUMMER, used to play hockey, and had a knee injury. She assumed the injury had ended his career, but she didn't know that for certain. She could ask her grandfather, but he'd think her interest in Rob was a romantic one. If she wanted to know more, she'd have to drag her laptop out of the box where she'd stored it in her bedroom closet. She knew the license plate number on his vehicle. With a few clicks and a tap, she'd take a look at his driver's license and obtain his date of birth and his Social Security number. After that, she could learn his employment history and if he'd ever been married. She'd discover other tidbits about him too, like if he had a criminal past.
But she didn't do that sort of thing anymore. Not for work. Not even to satisfy her own curiosity.
She took a sip of her beer and looked at him over the bottom of her glass. His head was bent slightly over Dixie's as she spoke, but Kate could feel him looking at her. She couldn't really see his eyes for the shadow of his hat, but she could feel his gaze touch her face and slide down her body. If she hadn't been immune to him, she might have felt her insides catch fire.
The Worsley brothers' game ended and Kate stepped forward to challenge the winner. Peirce Worsley stood five-foot-ten in his custom-made cowboy boots. Like his brothers, he had short, kinky brown hair. All three of them lived and worked at their family's ranch about twenty miles out of Gospel. Their ages ranged from thirty to twenty-five. Kate had met them the few times they'd come into the M &S. They didn't appear to be the sharpest knives in the drawer, but Kate hadn't come to the Buckhorn for intelligent conversation.
Peirce racked the pool balls while Kate tossed a coin to determine who went first. She won and positioned the cue ball near the side rail behind the foot string. She leaned over, slid the stick over the bridge of her thumb, aimed at the second ball, and shot. All fifteen balls separated, and the solid yellow rolled across the green wool and fell into a side pocket. Next she shot the three into the left corner pocket and the seven into the right. She banked the cue off the head cushion and left the solid blue next to a side pocket for a later shot. Four good shots, and she'd almost managed to forget Rob was in the room.
Peirce pushed up the brim of his cowboy hat and looked back across the table at her. He had light blue Helter-Skelter eyes, which should have been her first clue that the evening was going to deteriorate into madness. "Where you from?" he asked.
"Las Vegas."
"Are you a hustler?"
Kate stared at him and tried to remember that the brothers weren't too bright even when they were sober. If she was trying to hustle Peirce, did he really think she'd admit it to him? "No, I'm not a hustler."
"You play in a league or something?"
"My parents had a pool table when I was growing up," she answered and moved to where she'd left her beer. She raised the green Bud Lite to her lips and watched as Dixie Howe leaned over the other table and gave everyone a clear view of her deep cleavage. Kate had no problem with women who put it out there. She just didn't happen to be one of them. Well, except for that one time. Kate glanced at Rob, who, like the other men, had his eyes glued on Dixie's impressive implants. He said something that made Dixie laugh, then he raised a bottle of beer to his lips.
Kate turned her attention to Peirce as he made his shot and lined up another. Kate remembered enough about the night she'd first met Rob to recall that he could be somewhat charming. She'd been fooled and taken in by it, but in her own defense, she'd been really drunk.
"If you beat Peirce, you play me next."
She looked across her shoulder at another of the brothers. "Which Worsley are you?" she asked.
"Turtle." He pointed to his left. "This is Victor. If you beat me, you play Victor," he said as if she didn't have a choice. "But I doubt you'll beat me."
"I don't think I'll be staying that long, Tuttle."
"Are you afraid I'll win?"
Peirce missed his shot, and she set down her beer. "No."
"Go ahead and bet her five bucks you'll win, Tut," Victor said, then he downed his beer.
"Wow, five whole bucks."
Her sarcasm was lost on both men. "If that's too rich for your blood, we could play strip pool."
Right. She approached the end of table, and her gaze took in the position of the balls. She had to wait for Rob to finish his shot before she could proceed further between the tables. He straightened, but he didn't move aside to let her pass.
"Excuse me," she said as she glanced up, but the shadow of his hat hid most of his face.
He still didn't move, and she was forced to squeeze by, so close that she could see the stubble on his jaw. The rolled-up sleeve of his flannel shirt brushed her arm. She looked into his shadowy gaze as she passed. His eyes narrowed and she figured he was annoying the hell out of her on purpose. Probably because he was mad about that gay rumor thing.
"If you know what's good for you, you'll call it a night and go home."
No probablys about it. He was mad. "Are you threatening me?"
"I don't threaten women."
Well, it had sounded like a threat to her. "Just so you know, I didn't start that rumor about you."
He looked at her for several long seconds, then said, "Right."
"At least I didn't mean to." He just continued to stare, and she shrugged. "If you're interested in hearing the truth about how it got started, maybe I'll tell you sometime."