Oh, it’s on. I plop down on the floor cushions, prepped for battle. “Bring it, hot shot.”
He sits across from me, also on the floor, manspreading his big thighs around the board. I’m trying really hard not to think about what’s between those thighs. We’re just friends. Friends who play Scrabble and definitely don’t think about each other’s anatomy.
He’s up first.
He confidently arranges E-L-U-S-I-V-E as his first word, looking pleased with himself.
“Show-off,” I grumble.
My turn, and I lay down Z-O-I-N-K-S, barely stifling my giggles at his pursed lips.
“What the hell is that?” he grumbles.
“FromScooby-Doo! Shaggy says it all the time.”
“Nice try. Not a word.”
“It is!” I insist, pulling out my phone to prove my point, my faith in Shaggy and Scooby unwavering.
Of course, he’s not going to take my word for it. He checks his own phone and . . . “I’ll be damned.”
I blow on my nails. “Told you.”
“Damn, Lexi. ‘Zoinks’ just scored you nineteen points.” His handsome face contorts into a scowl as he stares at the Scrabble board.
I can’t help but giggle at his deathly serious expression. “Suck on that, Quinn.”
“You’re good, angel. But don’t get too comfortable. This just became an all-out war.”
“Aww, is someone a sore loser?” I tease, finding his fierce competitiveness both amusing and, let’s be honest, far too sexy. “Admit it, this is all about control for you.”
“Getting ahead of yourself, aren’t you?” His gaze pins me down with a challenge that’s all but growled.
Jesus. Our Scrabble game has bizarrely become an intense showdown, filled with tension and wine disappearing at an alarming rate.
“I think we should add another layer to this—let’s play the getting to know you game,” I suggest with a smile. “After all, friends should know things about each other.”
Connor raises a brow. “All right. What do you want to know?”
“What do you do all day?” I ask, genuinely curious.
“What do Idoall day?” he repeats, his voice dripping with mock offense. “Your tone suggests you think just kicking back with a whiskey in hand.”
“I’m serious! I have no idea what a guy who owns half the hotels in the States and a bunch of casinos actually does all day. Do you just play mini golf in your swanky office?”
He laughs, a deep and rugged sound that’s way too sexy for Scrabble. “Afraid not. It’s basically just one big hierarchy. I talk to the people below me, they talk to those below them. Things just go up and down the chain of command.”
“Really? Sounds like a boring version ofInception.”
Connor plays a word that’s way too smart for someone drinking wine. Shit, he’s good. And it’s making me horny.
“All right, if you’re really curious . . . Some days I’m overseeing new hotel constructions or checking out sites.Other times, it’s back-to-back meetings—strategizing, looking over finances, you name it,” he explains with a casual shrug. “Whatever fires need putting out.”
I place J-I-N-X-E-D down, smirking at my cleverness. “Sounds exhausting. Well, you got a glimpse into my glamorous work life. It’s nowhere near as fulfilling.”
He turns serious, his gaze softening. “You should finish your psych course, Lexi. If it’s about the money . . .”
“No,” I cut him off, knowing where this is going.
