The smug jerk pressed his lips together before clearing his throat. “Sure. That’s what you meant.”
Okay girl. Settle down. This is NOT the time to flirt.
“Well, buckle up cowboy, you’re about to be ridden.”
Seriously. What was wrong with me? I squeezed my eyes shut for a full ten seconds before sneaking a glance at Harrison, but he didn’t give any clues that he thought I was bonkers. I was unique, but my words and brain and hormones—let’s be honest—were not on the same page. They weren’t even in the same book at this point.
The uneasy knot in my chest loosened as Harrison sorted out the cards into four piles, one on each side and two in the center. The object of the game was to match numbers or put the one right before or above it, all while doing it fast. We had to discard the cards in our hands before drawing another one, and if we both were stuck, we would flip one card from the farthest deck.
My fingers twitched, and my heart raced as he divided the cards evenly between us.
“Ready?” he asked, his voice a deep timbre.
A shiver shot through my limbs.
“You’re on, Harrison.”
The game started. The snow fell hard outside, the fire crackled, and I played to win.Five on five. Four on five, then three, then two, then ace. Boom!
I placed ten more cards down before I was stuck and found my neighbor had barely played three cards. “Ah ha, I’m I too quick for ya? Thought you could move faster, football boy.”
“Wow.” He ran his tongue on the inside of his cheek and studied me with intense eyes. “I wouldn’t have pegged you for a trash talker.”
“You don’t know me. You don’t know what I’m about.” I stared him down.
He closed his mouth and then opened it again, his face twisting into a grimace before his eyes lost a little of their playfulness. “You’re right. I don’t.”
The mood shifted. Did he think I was trying to make him feel bad? Was I?No.I wasn’t that petty. I had my moments but, really, why would the dude have any clue that card games turned me into a borderline Monica? That I’d sacrifice a friend to win a game? That I ended up grounded from games as a child because I was too intense?
I chewed my lip as the silence grew. The familiar wave of self-doubt washed over me. Why did I have to say anything at all? I made it worse. Ugh.
“Should we flip?” He sat up straighter and pointed to the deck on the sides. He was all business now.
It didn’t take away my urge to win. Not even a little bit.Maybe there is something wrong with me.“Yup. Flip it, good sir.”
The game continued.Ten on Jack on Queen on King on Queen on Jack on ten on nine on eight on eight.My little fingers flew circles around his large ones andBam! Boo yah!
“Yes!” I jumped from the couch, victory coursing through my blood. “Suck it, Cooper!” I fisted my hand in the air and twirled around. “This is my victory dance if that’s not clear.” I clapped twice and kicked one leg, then the other. “It doesn’t matter if it’s a card game, a bet, Monday night bingo, or a silly race across the street, I always do my victory dance. The girls love it so much, I swear they let me win to see it come out.” I wiggled left and then right. “I’m making my future husband do this with me because he’ll definitely be a winner if he married me,” I said, the high of the win making words spew out even more.
Man, it felt good. My smile almost hurt my face. Until my attention turned back to Harrison, and I found him staring at me like I’d grown eighteen Christmas trees from my head. My smile fell.
Hard eyes. Lines between his strong eyebrows.
He must think I’m insane.
“Uh,” I started, unsure what direction to go.
Did I apologize for winning, or no? Was he used to women petting his ego with football talk? Was the dance too much? My stomach fluttered, and I sat back on the couch, willing my heart rate to return to normal.
“Best two out of three?” I offered, needing something to ease the tension.
Harrison might think me a dork, but I refused to pretend I was anything other than myself, especially if we were rooming together for a few days. A lightness rushed through me at the knowledge that I could be my unapologetic self without regret. I didn’t need to impress him at all. He had his chance with me that night when he kissed the heck out of me but then deemed me unworthy of even a dang text message.
With new resolve, I picked up the cards and shuffled. “Your lack of response is feeding my ego, bud. You’re either too afraid to play me because you know I’ll kick your butt, or I beat you so badly you’re embarrassed and need some time to recover. Which is it?”
He ran a hand over his jaw, letting out a deep, grunt-like snort. “You definitely kicked my ass. You and your girls must win all those silly competitions Greek life does, huh? Your competitiveness is next level. I’m equally horrified and impressed.”
I balled my hands into fists. “Sillycompetitions?”
