“My point exactly.”
Damnit.She’d walked right into that one. The obnoxious roar of gamers in the arcade interrupted the moment.
“Come play games with me, I’ll kick your ass, then we’ll blow all our tokens on something outrageous and gaudy in the store and I’ll give you a ride home like a proper gentleman.”
She arched an eyebrow and pursed her lips. “Are you goading me into a competition, Mr. Darcy?”
“Why Miss Bennet, I would never.” He extended his hand to help her from the booth and offered his elbow. She slipped her arm through and they walked through the corridor leading to the games area.
Linc charged up their power cards with twenty bucks a piece while Cleo turned in a slow circle taking everything in. There was no overhead light source, but vibrant lights flashed from every direction. Kids and adults alike giggled, playing games and taunting and shoving each other in playful competition.
“Anything catch your eye?”
“Is that… Whack-A-Mole?”
His mouth twisted, as though fighting a grin. “You like Whack-A-Mole?”
“Betchurass I do, jock-boy. I wasn’t raised in a cave, you know. I have a pretty good Whack-A-Mole game.” She brushed her shoulder off twice with a flat hand.
He chuckled and shook his head. “Prove it.”
She rolled her neck and shoulders as they walked to the game. Flexing her fingers she nodded at him to swipe the card to put credit on the machine and picked up the mallet.
Excitement bubbled in her stomach. She hadn’t played Whack-A-Mole in a decade, at least, but that rush of anticipation and nervous energy crashed into her as soon as the first mole poked his head up from his hidey hole.
With the clock taunting her, counting down the seconds, moles popping up and down, and Lincoln’s eyes on her, she swung the hammer again and again.
A short time later, she tore the tokens from the machine and crammed them into her paper cup. “Thirty three, not bad.”
“You’re a machine, Cleo Martinez. How did you get thirty three?”
“Told you, I gots wicked Whack-A-Mole skills.” She laughed, throwing a nonchalant shrug for good measure. “You wanna go for a third time, don’t you? I can see the need to beat me written all over your face.”
She grabbed his arm. “C’mon, Lincoln. Let’s go find something athletic for you to kick my ass at.”
He won at Skeeball and shooting hoops. They kicked ass in the four-player Mario Kart against two strangers. And they tied in air hockey – a game apiece – much to Lincoln’s chagrin.
Gold Fishin’ was a favorite. It had about fifty tiny glass ‘fish bowls’ lit in pink, purple and yellow, and they had to throw small rubber balls into the bowls. As much as she enjoyed the game itself, hearing Linc grumble and grouse at how much he sucked at something tickled her. They saved Pac-Man and the slot machines until last.
“Oh man, look at that.”
“At what?” Cleo turned but there was nothing behind her.
“Your cup of tickets.”
“What about it?” She tipped it so he could look inside.
“Our cups say everything anyone needs to know about our personalities, Cleo. Yours are all neatly folded and tidy, enclosed within the cup. Mine’s crammed in any old way, bits sticking out everywhere, and I keep losing containment.”
She giggled. “Do you need me to help save you from the explosion of tokens?”
Linc curled his arm around his cup, as if to protect it from her. “I’m good with my messy self, thanks. Hey, you wanna put all these tokens onto one card and save them for next time? Then we can get something bigger or two somethings so we can each have one.”
“Wow, you’ve done some wicked token math haven’t you? What do you have your eye on?”
“I dunno, maybe an oversized stuffy for you to cuddle at night when you’re desperately missing me? Matching Dave and Busters hoodies? Maybe I just want a hundred Nerd ropes?”
“Dang. How’s a girl to compete with the allure of a hundred Nerd ropes?” She handed him her cup of tokens.
