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at her place alone, so she’d hopped into her truck.
    Possibly, she’d headed here because she was almost certain to find Cal nursing a soda if he was at loose
    ends. Needling him was pure fun, plus the man seriously begged for a shaking up. Mr. Safety lived and
    played by the rules.
    Growing up, their crazy bets had been a regular summer occurrence. She’d come out to Discovery
    Island and spend two months indulging in soft-serve ice cream, motorboat rides—and daring Cal. Even
    then, before he’d become a U.S. Navy rescue swimmer and moved on to rescuing the more deserving than
    she, he’d wanted to save her from herself.
    She’d always been the bigger daredevil of the two of them. He’d rise to the occasion, but invariably
    remained so serious during the execution of their bets. He was a good sport when he lost, too, although he
    never lost by nearly as much as she wanted him to. Cal excelled at strategic thinking and, once he was in, he
    was all in.
    She looked over at him, taking his measure. He didn’t look worried about their current bet. “You
    remember the last time we played pool?”
    “Four years ago?” He sounded certain.
    “The game that ended with you skinny-dipping in the mayor’s pool?”
    He hadn’t expected to lose that particular game of pool, but he’d walked the four blocks to the mayor’s
    house, with her tagging along. Then he’d hopped the fence, lent her a hand as she scrambled over the top,
    awkwardly because her knee had been a hot mess, and proceeded to nonchalantly strip off. Good times.
    She’d give Cal credit. He always kept his word.
    “Some things are hard to forget,” he agreed.
    She wondered if now was the time to admit she’d snapped not one but six pictures of his amazing butt
    as he’d jumped into the pool. She’d hung on to those pictures, too, although she planned on claiming they
    were blackmail material.
    Like them all, he was a little older now, but she’d bet he still looked spectacular naked. When she’d
    walked into the bar, he’d been staring at his empty soda glass, lost in thought. The scruff on his jaw and the
    faded pair of blue jeans and polo shirt weren’t military issue, but there was no mistaking him for anything
    but a soldier. He’d also looked alone somehow, even in the middle of the bar’s cheerful chaos, and that
    wasn’t right. Sliding onto the stool beside him had seemed natural.
    Imagine that.
    While she and Cal had never been enemies, they’d never been close friends, either. Between competing
    to one-up each other and his annoying insistence he knew best, they’d been at odds more often than not,
    and the days of simply hanging out together had ended with her family vacations. He’d joined the U.S.
    Navy; she’d gone to college and been headed for a professional diving career. All of which meant they’d
    met up infrequently in the past few years. And yet...it certainly hadn’t escaped her attention that they
    invariably rubbed each other the wrong way when they shared air space.
    Grasping the base of the cue with her right hand, she rested the stick on the edge of the table. “You
    might want to back up. Bodily injury isn’t on tonight’s agenda.”
    “Thank God,” Daeg muttered behind them and took a drink of what she was fairly certain was her soda.
    Spreading her legs slightly, she leaned in and lined up the tip against the cue ball. “Three ball.”
    Take that. Her shot produced a smooth, fast line to the ball, and it dropped into the pocket with a
    satisfying thud.
    “Seven ball.” This time, it took a softer touch to send the ball into the pocket.
    Daeg whooped. “She’s taking you to the cleaners.”
    Then, darn it, the four ball ricocheted off the table’s side, and she knocked one of Cal’s balls into the
    pocket.
    “My turn,” he announced, satisfaction filling his voice.

    * * *
CAL BIT BACK a grin. That was his Piper. She’d gone all out, and her all-in strategy had backfired.
    Spectacularly. If he