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“Like you play jacks?” he teased. He grabbed the container on the table and shook it. Coins rattled against plastic. “Loser buys a slice of banana cream pie.”
“You’re on.”
There were three vintage pinball machines in the back corner of the room, all lit up, and waiting to be played.
“Lady’s choice,” Boxer said.
“This one,” I said immediately, placing my hands on the glass.
He held out the container of coins to me. I moved into position. “What do you say? Best two out of three wins?”
Boxer grinned. “Yup.”
I slipped the token into the slot, and the machine flashed in expectation. I grasped the plunger to pull it back and then released it. A silver ball shot up, hit a bunch of bumpers on the way down, and then zoomed past the flippers before I could even attempt to save it.
“Rotten luck,” Boxer drawled.
I glared at him.
“You’ve got a competitive streak, don’t you, Doc?”
I slid the sleeves of my sweater up to my elbows. “Stand back. I need room to work.”
Laughing, he moved.
I released the plunger again—but this time I was ready. I played for a good three minutes before I lost the ball. One more chance to score some points, and then it would be Boxer’s turn. When I lost my final ball, I stepped to the side.
Boxer sauntered up with an arrogant swagger to the machine and then handed me the container of coins. He took one and slid it into the slot.
“Ready to be impressed?” he asked.
“Ready,” I said in amusement.
He pulled back the plunger. The steel ball pinged and ponged, lighting up the machine. I watched in astonishment as his score kept going up. Finally, the ball dropped down and he flung it up again. It took him ten minutes to lose the first ball.
“You really are a pinball wizard,” I said in amazement. “How did you get so good?”
“When I was a kid, I spent most of my free time in the mall arcade. Had to learn how to make a dollar last.” His smile was wry.
We’d had such different childhoods, I realized. Mine had been spent learning how to ride horses, sailing on yachts, tennis lessons, and dinners at fancy restaurants. His had been full of mall arcades and who knew what else?
“Come here,” he said, stepping back. “I’ll show you how it’s done.”
“What about our bet?” I asked.
He laughed. “I’ll buy you a slice of pie no matter who wins.” He took my hand and gently tugged me toward him, positioning me at the machine. Boxer stood at my back and pressed even closer.
He was a wall of heat, and then I ever so slightly brushed against him to feel his erection.
Boxer sucked in a breath. “You don’t fight fair, darlin’.”
“No, I don’t. Do you?” I said, turning my head to look up at him over my shoulder.
He gazed down at me, his steely gray eyes like liquid mercury. “Not even a little bit.”
Our eyes locked, and I drowned in the moment. He looked at my lips before he closed the space between us. Boxer kissed me. He kissed me with feeling and purpose. He made my head spin, taking me to some other time and place. Only when he pulled back and smiled at me—that charming, knowing smile—did I come back to the present.
I turned around fully so my butt was pressed against the pinball machine. My hands went to his belt loops so I could pull him toward me.
