“TIM?” TWISTING around to look at his challenger, Paul wore a look of incredulity. “You play foosball?” “So what do you say?” Tim asked as he made his way through the crowd to the table. “The lady has played hard and well, but she’s worn down. Will you accept a new opponent to finish the match?” Paul’s eyebrows drew together, and he gave one of his rods an irritated spin. “If I had a gauntlet, I’d throw it down,” Tim persisted. The man standing beside him took off his cowboy hat. “I don’t rightl...y know what a gauntlet looks like, but you can use this here ole hat. Hittin’ the floor ain’t going to do it no harm.” Tim took the hat and neatly sailed it onto the two 5-rods in the middle of the foosball table. Claire watched, fascinated, as Paul and Tim faced each other across the gleaming metal bars. “What about it, Claire?” Paul asked, shifting his gaze to her. “Are you willing to let a stranger take over your hard-fought match?” Claire couldn’t imagine Tim’s slow, deliberate way of moving would be much of a match for Paul’s lightning reflexes.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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