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- Quinn -
I’d never seen so much enthusiasm for a strawberry milkshake in my life, and I could barely take my eyes off Maddy as she sucked it down, licking her chilled lips between hearty swallows.
Being so close to her felt dangerous ever since I instructed her form at the shooting range, sidling up behind her as if I were trying her on, seeing how her body fit against mine. When I set my hands on her hips to direct her stance, my throat closed up in a silent plea for mercy.
Still, I felt firmly in the friendzone, like I could pass the red face test with James if he asked how things were going. But goddammit, the way her lashes fanned against her cheeks as she sucked down that milkshake made me feel like my betrayal was inevitable. Like I was a ticking time bomb, and as soon as the clock hit zero, I was going to suck that strawberry flavor off her tongue until every part of her body was wrapped around me.
“Two crispy chicken burgers and one order of chili cheese fries,” our waitress said as she set our food down on the table between us. She was wearing a tight red uniform that matched the booth we were sitting in and had a funny-shaped hat pinned atop her grey curls.
“Thanks,” Maddy and I said in unison.
Marcie tucked her tray under one arm. “Is there anything else I can get you folks?”
“Maybe a water since I accidentally drank my whole milkshake already,” Maddy said. “Tap is fine.”
“Sure thing,” Marcie said, bowing slightly before excusing herself.
“How do you not have brain freeze right now?”
Maddy cocked her head towards the tall, empty glass. “I think I savor the flavor in my mouth long enough that it warms up before I swallow it down.”
My face fell.
She clocked the change in my expression and scolded me. “Hornball.”
“What?” I asked, feigning innocence. “I didn’t say anything.”
“You have a look in your eye.”
“I’m just impressed by your fervor.”
Her smile tugged towards the dimple in her left cheek. “What can I say? Murdering all those clay pigeons really worked up an appetite.”
I had zero reason to believe the look in my eyes had dissipated, so I thought it best to steer the subject away from her sucking skills. “So, tell me how you got so good at poker.”
She smiled, but it was fleeting, as if some passing thought stole away her amusement the moment she felt it. “My dad taught me.”
“Really?” I tucked into my big burger and wondered how she was going to fit her small mouth around hers.
“Yeah. Some kids build forts or Lego towns or play video games with their dads, but we played poker.” She dragged a cheesy fry from the pile between us. “We used to gamble for everything when we were growing up: chores, piggy back rides, trips to the park. You name it, we gambled for it.”
“That explains why James is always trying to turn everything into a bet.”
She held her hand up, so I wouldn’t see her mouth full of fries. “Probably.”
“Do you guys still play as a family?”
She shook her head and finished her bite before answering. “God no. Once we found out my dad was an addict, the fun stopped. Well, not for him, because he’s a selfish asshole, but the three of us made a pact that we wouldn’t gamble with him anymore.”
“Was that around the time he moved out?”
Her eyes widened. “James has told you about all that, I take it?”
“I wouldn’t say all about it. I know his relationship with your parents is complicated and that your dad broke up your family pretty bad.”
“That’s putting it mildly.”
