From their perch onstage, the pair of women who run the show continue spinning the noisy cage and yelling out numbers, but my card’s become a mess that’s now merged with Noah’s unorganized chaos.
“What was that space?” I loudly ask my grannies, but then Noah’s calling out letters and numbers at random, and I can’t tell him to stop because I’m laughing too hard, which only eggs him on.
I’ve never seen him like this, though. Kicked back, easy grin. Teasing me like we’ve been attending Boozy Bingo on the regular for years.
“What do my ears hear?” Grandma Helen cranes her neck, and Wanda beams at us like we’re adorable woodland creatures. “Is thatfungoing on back there?”
“Shh,” I say, finger to my lips. “Keep it down in front—we’re trying to play bingo back here.”
“Funny,” Vonetta says, her voice ringing through the rest of the hubbub, “it sounds like you’re playing at a different game back there.”
Now we’ve got their full attention, nine sets of eyeballs scrutinizing every move, to the point they miss the next space that’s called right along with us.
I open my mouth, hoping the right words will form, but before I can scoot away and insist there’s nothing going on between Noah and me, he gives my shoulder a shove and says, “Mia started it.”
I fire daggers with my eyes, conveying he’s messed with the wrong dame. Given my failure to stifle my smile, however, I doubt he gets the message. Then the roll of squeaky wheels and the rattle of glass filters through, and I turn to see the bartender pushing the drink cart in our direction.
“Ooh, over here,” I say, certain I’m going to need more alcohol for whatever’s about to transpire. Arlene’s not exactly here to give her blessing, but it’s not like Noah and I are doing anything besides flirting.
Still, I can’t help but wonder if she’d approve.
“I thought Mia didn’t drink at these events,” Wanda says, a pinch mockingly.
Withdrawing bills from my wallet, I pass them to the bartender along with my order. “Tonight, Mia does.”
Glee spreads over Bette’s features like a sunrise. “Are we finally getting through to you?”
They squee, congratulating themselves without waiting for my input, as per usual.
My cheeks blaze, and I sneak a sidelong peek at Noah to find his gaze steady on me. “How about you?” I ask thickly. “Would you like another beer?”
Noah waves off the offer, and my lungs fill with concern over how he perceives me. I’ve worked so hard on not caring, but every inch of my body radiates it anyway.
This round is running long, so many spaces called out and filled, yet refusing to line up in a row. Feels a bit metaphorical for my life, but once Noah’s knee comes to rest against mine, I can hardly focus on anything other than the bob of his Adam’s apple and that wicked tongue I’d like to intimately introduce to mine.
This thought isn’t intrusive, it’s exhilarating and all-encompassing. I feel like I should be conflicted or confused, but all I am is…turned on.
“Guess there is something to red lipstick.” As if transfixed, Noah taps a thumb to my lower lip.
“It’s supposed to bring out my bold side.” Barely a whisper, the confession skates over the arm he’s draped across the back of my seat.
“I’ve never thought of boldness as a trait you lack. You have no problem telling me what’s what anytime our paths cross.”
“Yeah, something about you really brings that out in me,” I say with a breathy laugh, each word pushing past the resistance of the callused pad of his thumb. “I didn’t account for the sweet, though.”
“Oh, don’t go accusing me of things I’m not,” Noah says, immediately appalled. Guys are so silly like that. They fear being labeled a teddy bear, but guess who gets to sleep with me every night?
No oneis the correct answer, but I shove that self-deprecating thought aside to study the coarse hair dusting his lip and his jaw, and whoa, the outer ring of his irises are such a dark shade of blue.
There’s no denying there’s a heart of gold beneath the gruff exterior, and I want a better look at both. “Grandma,” I say in her general direction as I extend a palm. “Can you toss me the keys to your golf cart? I need to take Arlene’s grumpy grandson for a ride.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
“It’s about damn time,” Sophia says, which merges into Wanda’s “Praise the goddess.”
Both are tame compared to Grandma Helen’s extra loud, “Use protection. Thanks to you, there’s a box of condoms in the—”
“That’s enough advice, thank you,” I say over the top of her, not caring if I’m being a pinch hypocritical because they’re being alotpresumptuous. Casting Noah a sidelong glance, I say, “Grandparents these days, am-I-right?”
