For The Love Of The Game

Supply Run +

Riley grabbed a paddle and stood by the table, back facing me. She tossed the puck to Mikey and he smacked it across. It zigged-zagged, gliding across the smooth surface. That cycle repeated for many rounds. At some point, the puck came to a full stop at the center of the table. Mikey stretched, repeatedly sliding his arm to hit it to no avail.

Fuck me, I cursed.

Riley bent down over the table. Her apple-shaped, round ass looked so inviting, sticking up in that sensual position. I tugged on my black tie, hoping it would release some of the warmth flaring underneath my skin, and snapped my gaze away.

At the other end of the bar, two men eyed the gorgeous sight before me. One a stubby older man with gold rings on all his fingers. The other looked like his younger brother, yet much taller, and had black hair. I knew I had no right, but goddammit did I want to break their faces. I took a deep breath, calming my building irrational anger. Riley was not my girlfriend. In fact, I was doing the same thing. Eyeing her like a hormonal teenager.

The taller one approached, swatting invisible dirt off of his business suit and placed his bony hand on her waist. Shock crawled up her back and she jolted away. My composure broke, and no chains could keep me from tramping over. I leaped off the bar stool and marched, chess puffed out and shoulder squared, ready to crack his hand if he overstepped.

"So sweetheart, can I take you to dinner?" He asked as I treaded near.

Riley gave a strained smile. "Sorry, no thank you."

He leaned in, invading her space. Riley stepped further back, away from his green breath. "Come on sweetheart," he winked.

I placed my hands on Riley's shoulders and loudly said, "Is everything okay, love?" I threw a cutting gaze at the guy. His eyes widened and he stumbled back in surprise. "Can I help you with anything, buddy," I grumbled, flaring my nose.

"Oh you have a boyfriend, my bad?" He held his skeleton hands up in surrender.

"So, you won't listen when I told you no, but back off because of him?" Riley growled, jabbing poison daggers into the guy's throat with her enraged gaze. "Let me put it in clearer terms then, fuck off."

The guy grimaced and opened his mouth to bite back.

"Walk away if you know what is good for you," I warned. The dog threw us a nasty glare and walked back — tail wrapped in between his legs. My shoulders relaxed and I looked down at Riley. She glared. "What?" I asked, startled to be under her scrutinizing gaze.

Riley crossed her arm and frowned, foot tapping at each word. "I can handle myself." She poked my chest. "I don't need you to run over and rescue me."

"I was just trying to help," I rebutted. Should I have just let that bastard keep invading her space? "What if he tried something?"

Her chin tilted and she walked up to me. Her gaze nailed me to the ground. "It looked more like you were trying to piss all over me."

"That's no—"

"Why would Noah pee over you?" Mikey asked, eyes wide as he stared at us from the other side of the table.

Riley choked on air. "It's a saying, it's not like..." Her brain malfunctioned, scavenging for the correct words. "Just forget it Mikey." She slammed her palm into her forehead in defeat.

Before the little guy could prowl further, I proclaimed, "I want to play," and stuck my hand out, asking Riley for the hockey stick.

Riley eyed me, seeing through my plan to appease her. Her gaze still held me at gunpoint when she said, "Sure." She dropped the stick into my hand, walked around the table, and stood on the long side. The lights of the arcade flashed behind her. Like a race car announcer, she asked, "You boys ready?"