Page 86 of Under Pressure

One of the old men a few chairs from us stares me down. “What changed your mind, Quinn? He sounds like a pest.”

“Don’t be an ass, Frank. Keep the jealousy to yourself,” Ruthie chastises, glaring brutally at him.

“I’m not jealous! My husband couldn’t be further from a pest.”

Quinn struggles to stifle her laugh. I barely manage to hide mine by coughing into my fist. When she clears her throat and starts speaking, my stomach falls out of my ass.

“I don’t know if it was so much as him doing one specific thing. It was more like . . . a collection of everything he did and said that helped prove that he wasn’t the guy I thought he was. His kindness and the acts of service that I wouldn’t have ever expected from a guy who looks like him. There was always something deeper inside of him that intimidated me. But once I saw it, I lost the battle.”

It sounds too honest. Too real.

I struggle to keep from throwing her over my shoulder and taking her home so she can tell me all of that again in private. She avoids looking at me, falling silent. The rest of the table picks up on the emotion thick in the air and instantly flick their eyes away from us. Only Ruthie’s remain.

She’s not my focus, though. Quinn is.

And she can hide from me all she wants, but I’m starting to see the truth.

We’re inevitable.

“Bingo!” I announce proudly.

“You’re such a liar. There’s no way you wonagain,” Quinn accuses, already leaning over my lap to inspect my card.

“Go ahead and double-check, gorgeous. I’m afraid you just aren’t as naturally skilled at bingo as I am.”

“You cheated somehow.”

“How do you cheat at bingo?”

“You just do! Trudy! I need your eyes on this, and please,pleasedon’t get distracted this time. He already knows he’s pretty. Let’s not make a bigger deal out of it.”

“Yes, I’m coming!” the woman manning the contraption at the front shouts a smidge harshly.

With the rollers bouncing on her head and her sparkly, strappy sandals slapping the tile floor, she rushes down the break in tables toward ours. She huffs the closer she gets, and I catch the annoyed look she tosses Quinn’s way before she lets it fall. I stifle a laugh behind my fist and clear my throat.

Trudy stands behind both Quinn’s and my chairs, because we’ve all but glued them together, and peers down at my card. The blue dots I’ve stamped on the spaces she’s called form a perfect diagonal line. Despite Quinn’s disbelief, I have, in fact, won yet another game, making this my third in a row.

The number card in Trudy’s wrinkled hands shakes a bit as she double-checks I’ve only stamped the numbers she’s called. Her unimpressed expression makes another appearance, and this time, she lets it stay fixed on Quinn.

“For the third time, he won,” she mutters.

Quinn guffaws. “It has to be beginner’s luck, then.”

“Who said I was a beginner?”

Slowly, she looks away from the cards in front of us and up to me. Her neck arches as we hold eye contact before I wink. Her bottom lip gets tucked between her white teeth.

“I’ve played quite a few times in my life. My dad’s mom loves going to bingo. I go with her every off-season. It’s kind of our thing now.”

She balks. “And you didn’t think to share that with me? You acted like you knew nothing about bingo!”

“Oops. If I had told you all my secrets, would you have wanted to team up instead of being rivals?” I tease, resting my hand on her thigh.

“No. I’d have made you go up there to call numbers instead so I could have had a chance at winning.”

“Bingo’s all luck, Quinny. Experience doesn’t matter.”

“Says the guy who’s now won a new toaster oven, a voucher for a free pedicure, and a cowboy hat air freshener!”