“What are we whispering about?” Reed matches our tone, bringing the pizzas to the kitchen.
“You.” Jovie presses her hands to her red cheeks as if she’strying to hold her laughter in. I put a finger against my lips, only half joking that we need to keep this conversation between us.
I get up to help him with plates and glasses. We move around the kitchen the way we do behind the counter at Perk Me Up—sliding against each other unnecessarily.
“Rose thinks you’re wonderful!” Jovie blurts out my secret like holding it in those thirty seconds was the worst pain she’s ever experienced.
Probably a good thing I didn’t admit to more.
He meets my gaze, a smirk working its way along his mouth. “What else did she say?” he asks Jovie.
“That was it,” she chirps. “But I told her I think?—”
“She thinks you’re definitely going to win this game because you already have an unfair advantage.” I make big eyes at Jovie, trying to send her the mental note not to mention anything about our supposed mutual love. Just because I’m hoping for it doesn’t mean I’m ready to tell him directly and find out which way he’s leaning.
“Because my armies are in prime position for world domination?” he asks.
“You got the best cards.” He’s got a large coalition of adjacent countries ready to wipe Jovie and me out. “My guys are sitting ducks.”
He faces me, one hand moving to my hip to draw me closer. “I’ll show you mercy if you ask nicely.”
I would very much like to find out how Reed defines “asking nicely.” And then follow through with an extremely polite request.
“I don’t know,” I say, echoing the touch at his side, my fingers splaying across his shirt. “You’ve been pretty ruthless tonight, and the game hasn’t even started.”
I reach up to run my other hand over his baseball cap, turned around to show off his rugged face. His dark, messy waves always tempt me to run my fingers through them, but something about this look awakens an even stronger pull.
The man grins at me.Grins. I swear time slows so I can memorize the stretch of his lips. The crinkles at the corners of his eyes. The way his whole face loses ten years in the soft expression. He’s boyish and free, and I’m using all my self-control not to throw my arms around his neck and make out with him here in my kitchen.
It’s a good smile, if that wasn’t clear.
He leans a touch closer, and I sway toward him, ready to meet in the middle.
“I’m not above using an advantage when I can get it.” He pats my hip, turning away to take Jovie’s dinner plate to her.
Okay. So the man plays dirty. Good to know.
We finish setting up the board, taking our time getting into the game while we eat. Honestly, I don’t care about the game—I’m definitely going to lose—but hanging out with Reed and Jovie activates some kind of comfort setting inside me. I’m warm and relaxed like I just had a massage, and completely at ease.
Every time Reed makes eye contact with me, my heart pounds in my ears, but other than that, I’m completely at ease.
“What did you do for your first date?” Jovie takes a bite of pizza, dragging it away from her face to get a long string of melty cheese before gobbling it up bit by bit like the dogs eating spaghetti inLady and the Tramp.
I glance to Reed for backup, but he just ticks an eyebrow. Letting me steer this ship, for good or ill. I’ve been on plenty of first dates—I should be able to come up with a believable version of what ours would be. I could easily say movies. It’s a common enough activity, and we do have experience with it, even if our mid-sickness snuggling wasn’t an official date. But there must be something more specific to Reed that we might do.
“He took me fishing.”
By the way both his eyebrows lift, that wasn’t in the potential date rotation for him.
Jovie giggles, slapping one hand over her forehead. “Uncle Reed. Ew.”
“I asked him to,” I hurry to add. He’s not the kind of guy whowould plan dates around what he wants to do without thinking about my comfort.Your wants and needs are valid, too.“I’d never been before, and I told him that I wanted to try. So he took me to the river.”
Never mind which one, since I couldn’t name a good fishing river if I had hours to plan. Maybe they’re all good for fishing? Who even knows.
“Did you catch anything?” she asks.
“I caught one this…” I hold my hands six inches apart. How big are fish? I stretch my hands wider, watching Reed with my eyebrows raised, silently asking him to tell me when to stop. My face twists into a deeper cringe the farther apart my hands get, but he doesn’t say “when.” “This big?”
