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could
make it that long before losing her sanity. If she had to spend another hour
after that with these two, someone better be calling the guys with the white
coats because she’d be utterly certifiable by then.

Chapter Three
     
    “Ready for that shot now?” Porter walked behind the bar and
pulled three shot glasses from the shelf. He felt Marsha eyeing him and swore
he could almost hear her mind working. She wanted them out of there. Too bad
for her, she’d lost the game against Reid.
    “Are you hoping to get me drunk?”
    Porter slid a glance at her out of the corner of his eye as
he reached for the bottle of Southern Comfort. He didn’t exactly know how to
answer that. He wanted her sober so when he and Reid turned this
forget-about-it hour into make-her-listen time she would be thinking with a
clear head. Then again, maybe if they got her just this side of smashed, she’d
let her guard down and they’d stand a better chance at getting her to listen.
    “I’m hoping to get you to loosen up.”
    “I’m not uptight.”
    Porter knew better than to respond to that so he tucked his
tongue in his cheek and commenced to pouring the shots. A single Southern
Comfort for her and a double dose of Jack Daniels for himself and Reid went
into the shot glasses he’d placed on top of the bar.
    She huffed out an audible breath and flopped onto a
barstool. “Okay, maybe I am a little.”
    Her tone insinuated the words she left unsaid…because of
them. Yeah, they got that and it was high time they fixed it, too.
    “Are you still going with your plan to expand the dart area,
put in more boards?” Porter asked as he set her shot in front of her.
    He knew she’d tried to get Martin to do it before he passed
away. It was a good idea. Darts were huge in the area and brought in a good
deal of money to the local bars. Marsha had tried to convince Martin of that
and he and Reid had been behind her. They probably would’ve swung around his
way of thinking if he’d lived a few more months.
    “I am.” She ignored the shot, peeled at the label on her
beer bottle, and seemed to lose herself in her thoughts for a moment.
    Porter knew that look on her face. She was struggling,
finding it hard to hold her end of the bet. He half expected her to tell him to
cut the bullshit. She’d never been good at beating around the bush, usually
jumped in headfirst and said exactly what was on her mind.
    Right now, he wasn’t so sure he wanted to know what was
going through that beautiful head of hers.
    She puffed out a breath, and spun her stool sideways. “I’d
wanted to have it done before the summer season started in a couple of months,
but with taking over the sponsorship of the Southern Boys for the rest of this
season, it’s not looking as if that will happen.”
    “You’ll have to shut down the boards while the renovations
are being done.” Reid settled on a barstool next to her and caught the shot
Porter slid across the bar in his direction.
    “And I can’t do that now that I’ve got two teams depending
on the boards until the middle of April.”
    “What about moving them temporarily?” Porter suggested.
“Unless things have changed, you could stand to lose a pool table or two for a
short time. Move those two,” he pointed to the farthest two tables in the room,
“put the boards on that wall, and section off the dart area while the work is
being done.”
    “I hadn’t considered that.”
    She was considering it now, though. He could all but see the
wheels turning in her head again, this time tossing around his suggestion
rather than cooking up a way she could toss him out on his nose.
    “It could work,” she said, more to herself than to them as
her gaze danced from one part of the room to the next. “And it wouldn’t hurt
business.”
    “Reid and I would like to give you an estimate on the job
when you’re ready.”
    She’d gotten Stephens Contracting, his and Reid’s biggest
competitor, to do the work on the