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The click of the door was a loud reminder of how alone he was once more.
This time, he wasn’t quite as happy about it as he sat down to his computer.
…
“Woo-hoo!”
The cheers rose as Hope continued to shovel the miniature marshmallows in her mouth as fast as she could. Damn these chopsticks. Definitely not easy.
Fun, yes, but seriously, who knew when she’d jumped into the challenge that it would be so hard? Not her. She’d needed something to distract her from thoughts of Tall, Blond, and Broody up in their shared room.
Not to mention to stop overanalyzing her reactions to him. Were she interested in studying humans, this was the place to do it: a singles mixer and forced proximity.
“Thirty seconds!” Wendy, the timekeeper of this game, kept them apprised of the clock.
Hope kept shoveling the marshmallows in. Honestly, she didn’t get very many with each attempt with the chopsticks.
“Fifteen seconds!”
She glanced across the table at her competitor, Alistair. He waggled his eyebrows as he lifted his tan chopsticks, loaded with a good number of marshmallows, then shoved them into his mouth.
How the fuck was he making it look so simple? Hell no, she wasn’t going down so easy.
I managed to put myself through school, get doctorates and other degrees. I can fucking shove the most marshmallows in my mouth with chopsticks.
“Ten seconds!”
“Come on, Hope!” Wendy bounced beside her, purple hair unconfined.
Even the proprietor watched with the other people stuck here for the duration of the blizzard.
Leaning as close as the rules allowed, she shoveled quicker, eyes spilling tears faster than she could stuff in the sweet confections. God, she wanted to use her hands.
“Time.”
Erick brought his hand down on the table, making the remaining marshmallows bounce and roll. And she nearly choked from the shock of his hand slap.
“Let’s count.” Sonya clapped her hands. “Swallow all those, Hope.”
It wasn’t easy. A large glob of over-the-top sweetness. But she didn’t spit it out. She refused. She swallowed and pumped her hands in the air. The oversize sweatshirt she wore slid back, exposing her arms.
She tucked her hands back in the sleeves. She had to admit, there was something incredibly lovely about wearing Mitchell’s clothes. His scent surrounded her, making her feel cherished. Even if he hadn’t wanted to come down and participate.
He was probably some recluse who preferred wild birds to actual human companionship. She didn’t begrudge him that. What right did she have? She usually preferred animals to humans herself. More than that, however, he’d saved her life instead of driving by, which she’d been fairly certain others had done. But then, not only had he taken her with him, he was sharing a room—a bed—with her.
Focusing on his scent or the fact she wore his clothing was a foolish thought. Who was this man to make her feel this way?
Wendy grasped her wrist and took Alistair’s in her other hand. “The winner is…”
Alistair waggled his eyebrows at her. “Quick side bet?”
She leaned closer, lips tilting up. “Like?”
“Winner gets a kiss?”
Hope snorted. If she had to have an accident, be stuck at a bed and breakfast with a strange hottie who saved her life, and be passing time at a singles mixer—this was a great group to be with.
“From whom?”
He grinned. “You, of course. I’m winning this.”
She waggled a finger at him. “You don’t know that.”
Alistair shrugged. There was a loud pop and the lights went out. The glow from the fire was the only illumination.
“Sorry.” Naomi hurried closer. “We’ll be without power for a while. I’m so sorry. We’ll be okay. We’re used to things like this happening.”
Wendy released her wrist and Hope cleared her throat.
“We can play closer to the fire.” She didn’t want the woman to feel worse.
The others agreed and some moved the game table while she and Alistair held gazes.
“Who won, Wendy? I want to know before she tries to eat more marshmallows to win the kiss.” The man sent her a cheeky wink.
Hope clucked her tongue. “You would be the one doing that, not me.” Even if she didn’t feel confident about having won.
Alistair laughed. “Either way, a kiss by the fire is my prize.”
Hope grabbed a marshmallow and lobbed it at him. His laughter grew and the three of them headed to the fireplace, where they joined the others.
Claiming a seat in an oversize chair, Hope positioned her leg to ease the ache. “Who did win?”
“I’m still tallying up the numbers. But, in my totally unbiased opinion, the winner was Hope.” Wendy held out her hand to fist bump.
After touching fists, she grinned at her opponent. Alistair lowered his arms with a pout. He leaned over the arm of the sofa. “Do I get a kiss?” A pause. “You know, Wendy, once you finish counting it’ll be revealed that I did win, even if you’re trying to make Hope out to be the winner.”
