For all she knows, I could have a bunch of old-school porn in there. That doesn’t stop her. No, siree, boundaries are something Loren Piper has apparently never heard of.
And because I must’ve pissed someone off in a past life, she bends over right in front of me to root around. I force my head back against the cushion, staring at the ceiling fan instead of the way her hips are cocked at the perfect angle for?—
“Holy crap! You have Scrabble?”
I roll my eyes at the box Loren pulls from beneath the TV. “I don’t see why that’s so shocking. It’s a great game.”
“It’s shocking because you’re not a seventy-five-year-old grandpa.” The box shakes when she rights herself. “Let’s play.”
“No.” Scrabble isn’t mindless and if Loren finds out how competitive I am, there’s a good chance this budding friendship will be over before it begins.
“Come on. Please? My parents and I always used to play Scrabble on weekends.”
Mine too. It must be an only child thing.
She looks so damn excited and after everything that’s happened to her, it feels like I don’t have much of a choice. “Ugh. Fine.” I clear my cup and plate off the coffee table, making room for Loren to set out the board.
It’s funny that she mentioned grandparents, because the tiles are in a tube sock that used to belong to my grandpa. Weird, I know. But I can’t bring myself to transfer them into something normal, like a baggie or whatever.
I sink back down on the couch covered in her ridiculous pillows. I wasn’t a fan at first, but I must admit they’re comfy when you’re lounging, watching TV.
I grab my wooden rack and select seven tiles from the sock. “I have to warn you, I’m pretty good.”
She grins down at her tiles as she places them on her own rack. “So am I.”
We’ll see about that.
With the TV playing a rerun ofFrasierin the background, we start the game. Because I’m a gentleman, I let her go first. Wouldn’t want to make this too unfair on her.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m not going to let her win by any means, but it’s the least I can do.
Tapping her lips, she moves her tiles around before playing her first word, “peasant,” using every damn tile.
“Luck.”
A smirk. “Skill.”
After a few rounds, it’s clear we’re more evenly matched than I originally thought. Which is fucking amazing because the last time I played against August it was like that scene inThe Officewhere the receptionist only plays words that have to do with cows, but instead of cows, August kept spelling food items. He claimed it was because he was hungry at the time, but I’m not buying it.
I throw down three tiles, then pick three more, finally getting the “K” I’ve been waiting for. Loren isn’t paying me any attention, her focus solely on the board between us. Even so, I keep my eyes off that pink square just in case she catches me looking and decides to swoop in before I can.
She plays somewhere else, and I burst into laughter when I make my move.
DICK
“Fitting, since you are a dick,” she mutters through flat lips, scribbling down my points on the notebook. Her gaze bounces between the board and her tiles while I sit back and select four new tiles.
When a smile splits across her face, I hold my breath as she steals the double word score right out from under me.
PUSSY
“I believe that’s eighteen points. Oh, wait. Would you look at that? I used the double word score twice, so make thattwenty-sevenpoints, please.”
So that’s she’s going to play it? “It is on.”
When I throw down MOIST, she grimaces, then proceeds to use my “T” for CLIT.
“Dammit.” I guess I’ll have to find somewhere else for my next word.
