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Reaching the last patty and bottom bun, Quinley nabbed both along with the top bun she’d earlier put aside. She then slapped the three layers together, making a conventional burger, and began to eat.
Isaiah understood her strategy, then. Buns were filling. You might have a better chance at fitting lots of meat in your belly if you saved the buns for last. Clever girl.
Alex kept on eating mega fast, even though he looked a little pale. He snatched the bottom bun from the skewer… just as Quinley was announced the winner.
She beamed, delighted. But clearly not at all surprised.
Isaiah whooped while his cat plopped down on its ass, smug as all hell.
Alex, however, moodily tossed his food on the table, disgusted at having lost.
“Oh, dear,” said Bree with an amused wince. “He’s a seriously unhappy bunny right now.”
While people clapped and cheered, Isaiah and Bree walked straight to their respective mates.
Rounding the table, Quinley proudly notched up her chin. “Told you I’d win. You shouldn’t have doubted me.”
“I never did, not even for a second.” He caught her by her hips. “I just let you think I did.”
She gave him a playful, dirty look. “Asshole.”
“Yeah.” He planted a quick kiss on her mouth.
Quinley looked at her fellow contestant, doing her best to stifle a smile. Alex was leaning back in his chair with his arms sulkily folded, his expression a pure glower. She’d been warned that he was a terrible loser, but she had to admit she hadn’t quite expected this level of self-directed fury. Bree stood beside him, clearly dying not to laugh.
“You mad?” Quinley asked him, her cat a mixture of perplexed and amused.
The wolverine grunted, stubbornly not meeting her gaze.
“You did really well,” she praised. “Almost beat me.”
Apparently, that meant nothing to him, because he kept on glowering at thin air.
“It’s the taking part that counts.”
Alex glared at her. “No, it isn’t. All that matters is winning. Only. Winning.”
Ooookay.
Valentina materialized near Bree. “Son, I have no words. A wolverine does not lose at eating contest. We invented eating contests. We always win. Always. This loss defies logic.”
“Thought you said you had no words,” Alex dryly muttered.
“I am speechless. Speechless,” Valentina repeated, a hand to her head. “That is not normal. And I am never without words.”
“You’re still talking.”
“Bah.” Valentina strode off, muttering about weaknesses.
Alex stood and pointed at Quinley. “You. Me. Rematch. New Year’s Eve. Tavern.”
Bree’s brow furrowed. “That’s when our pride has its annual party.”
“It can be part of the entertainment,” he stated with a shrug.
Quinley cocked her head at him, curious. “You find it fun for people to watch you lose? That’s odd.”
Bree started cracking up.
