Match Made In Paradise by Barbara Dunlop (black female authors TXT) 📕

form while Cobra rechalked his cue in anticipation of her miss.

Mia lined up for a logical but difficult shot.

“You might want to try for the six ball first,” he suggested.

She gave him a censorious look, eyes narrowed, brows knit together.

He took a step back in surrender, realizing her form looked just fine. “Never mind. Carry on.”

“Thank you,” she said tartly.

She tapped the cue ball, kissed the two at just the right angle and sent it dribbling into the corner pocket.

“Nice,” Breena said.

Mia flashed a grin. She sized up the table for a moment then waltzed around to the far end.

Silas tried to figure out what she had in mind. When she adjusted her stance, he saw she intended to bank the cue ball and put the six in the side pocket.

He straightened, moving to better see the angle. “Are you sure you—” He caught her stern look on him again.

It wasn’t exactly a glare. In fact, she looked mostly amused.

“Can you make that?” Breena asked on a note of awe. She’d moved too for a better angle.

Even Cobra was watching closely.

Everyone went quiet as Mia shot the ball.

The bank looked good. She clipped the six. It hit the pocket. And before Silas could even react, the cue ball hit the ten and sank it as well.

Mia repositioned her cue, smiling in satisfaction.

“We’ve been hustled,” Cobra said, shaking his head in amazement.

Mia moved around the table, sizing up another shot. “I haven’t played much eight ball,” she repeated. “But Alastair liked billiards. We have a table in the basement.”

Breena burst out laughing.

“Did you know?” Cobra asked her.

Breena shook her head, while Mia neatly sank the four ball.

“That’s my partner,” Silas said, impulsively giving her a one-armed hug before realizing what he was doing. He quickly dropped his arm and moved on. “What were we playing for again?”

“Burgers,” Cobra answered.

“We should have put some money on it,” he said to Mia. “We could have gotten odds.”

She slid her bright blue gaze his way. “You really want me to hustle your friends?”

“Yes. No. Cobra, sure. It’d take a lot more than losing a game of pool to rattle him.”

She quickly finished off the game.

As Cobra pulled the balls from the pockets, some lunch customers came through the door and Breena went to serve them.

“You’re really good,” Silas said to Mia. “If that supermodel thing doesn’t work out for you . . .”

“I can schlep from town to town picking up pool winnings?”

“I’ve got a plane,” he joked. “I’d fly you.”

“We’d have to bet big to cover the cost of fuel.”

“How about Vegas? High stakes down there in Vegas.”

“Even been to Vegas?” she asked curiously.

“No. You?”

“We did a show there once. It’s big. Everything there is big. We walked and walked and walked.”

“I would have thought you’d take a limo.” He could easily picture her in something low-cut and glamorous under the bright lights of the Strip.

“Sadly, they don’t let them drive inside those huge hotels.”

“Funny,” he said.

Her gaze stayed on his for a moment. “If not Vegas, where have you been?”

“Colorado. I grew up in the mountains.”

She drew back, making a show of checking him out. “I can see that. You have a practical earthy aura, straightforward and unpretentious.”

He wasn’t sure how to take that.

“I’ve known a lot of slick, urbane guys,” she continued. “They talk a good game, but no soul.”

“Play again?” Cobra asked her, moving closer.

Silas wanted Mia to elaborate. Was she saying he had a soul? Did she like a guy with a soul?

“You sure you want to take me on?” she asked Cobra lightheartedly.

“I don’t mind losing,” he said. “And it’s fun to watch you play.”

“Okay.” She moved back to the table, her tone teasing. “But I don’t know how many burgers I can possibly eat.”

Chapter Six

Silas was with Brodie on Sunday morning, riding in the passenger seat of the newest West Slope Aviation pickup truck, his bare arm bent out the open window. The truck was a painted bold blue with the white company logo—the letters wsa and a stylized swooping airplane—stenciled on each of the doors. It was by far the nicest vehicle in town.

The full-sized back seat could carry additional aircrew, but Brodie and Silas were alone today with a ladder, two stacks of roof shingles, carpentry tools and their leather tool belts stored in the box as they zipped their way down the road from town to Raven’s cabin.

“And now there’s talk of another poker game.” It was clear from Brodie’s tone that he wasn’t about to let that happen.

Silas was glad of that. He’d have been tempted to shut it down himself this time. “She’d beat them all at pool. As I’m sure you heard.”

“That made her even sexier,” Brodie said, taking a curve, the back tires doing a controlled slide over the loose gravel, the long wheelbase keeping things smooth.

Silas clamped his jaw. He sure couldn’t disagree with that. In any other universe, he’d be vying for a date with her himself.

“It’s stupidly distracting,” Brodie said.

“So, shut it down.” If Brodie didn’t, Silas might do it himself.

“I am. I will. Tonight.”

“Good.”

They rounded the final bend before Raven’s driveway.

“Know any details about the roof?” Silas told himself to focus on their job at Raven’s cabin instead of fixating on the fact that Mia would be there in all her enticing beauty.

“Raven wasn’t big on details.”

“When I dropped Mia’s bags off I saw four buckets catching drips.”

“Four?”

“Maybe more. I didn’t go upstairs.”

Brodie swung the truck left into the driveway. “She made it sound like it was minor.”

“Maybe it is, to her. In five years, she hasn’t properly plumbed the bathroom.”

“I don’t get her.” Brodie parked the truck.

“What’s to get?”

Raven was great, a huge asset to the town. She did her job and kept Galina Expediting running with model efficiency, and he told Brodie as much. They could fix her roof and improve her life without psychoanalyzing her.

“I suppose,” Brodie said as they climbed out of the cab.

Both of them strapped on