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“It’s food; it’s therefore acceptable.” I wasn’t a fussy eater. I loved food in most of its forms.
“I thought as much.” His fingers skimmed the Braille tiles in front of him, and his mouth twitched.
“Don’t smile,” I advised. “It’s a tell.”
“This isn’t poker.”
“No, but you should try to keep your face blank.” I gasped. “You have the blank tile, don’t you?”
His face scrunched in consternation. “Am I that obvious?”
“It’s my favorite, too.” I placed my word on the board and awaited his admiration. “Cloud. Double word score.”
He touched each tile in order.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
“Making sure you didn’t cheat. You could put any tiles you want there, and I won’t know unless I check.”
“Or unless you trust me. Haven’t I proven myself to you yet?”
Otto shrugged. “I have issues with women. Sue me.” He added an ’s’ to cloud and then completed his word—sword. “I believe this means I get your double word score as well as my own.”
Well, damn. “You don’t have to look so pleased with yourself. It isn’t like you cured cancer.” I passed him the bag to select more tiles. “Tell me more about this date. Will there be a second?”
“Her name is Francine.”
“Job?”
“Historian.”
“Huh.”
His eyebrows drew together. “What?”
“Nothing.”
“You said ‘huh.’ That sounds like something.”
“I don’t see you with a Francine. That’s all.”
He laughed. “You’re basing our compatibility on her name?”
“Is she human? She sounds human with a name like that.”
“She’s half. Her father was a mage.”
“Is she local?”
“Yes. Why the inquisition?” He set his tiles on the board, using one of my letters.
“You don’t have the best track record with dating. I’m just trying to be helpful.”
“Funny. Your version of helpful is my version of critical. I had a mother, and I’m not auditioning for a second one.”
“Ouch.” I clutched my chest. “That’s way harsh, Otto.”
“How’s our mutual friend, Mr. Sullivan?”
