He was feeling mellow, warm and content, not surprising after a morning spent in bed. But what a morning. Hours of languid touching, kissing, and listening to the sound of the rain as it hit the windows. Lying in Mike’s arms, just talking, more kissing, everything slow and sensual. And that was just fine by Tommy; the night before had been plenty hot enough. Just thinking about some of it sent the blood rushing south.
“Where’s your head at?” Mike demanded, tapping the table with a Scrabble tile, the sharp sound snapping Tommy back into the present.
Tommy gave a start. “Sorry.” He cleared his throat and shifted on his chair.
Mike’s grin widened. “Do I need to guess what you were thinking about?”
Damn the man. “Whose turn is it?” He peered at his tile holder and realized it only had three letters sitting on it. “Oh.” Apparently it was his. Tommy ignored Mike’s rich chuckle andrummaged blind in the green fabric bag that contained the remaining tiles, drawing out four. He placed them on the holder and gazed intently at them.Another shit selection. Tommy glanced at the piece of paper by Mike’s right hand and pursed his lips. Mike was winning. Again. Not surprising when his last word had been seven letters on a triple word score.
“How about I make us some hot chocolate while you’re working it out?” Mike suggested. “It’s just the sort of day that’s perfect for hot chocolate.”
“That sounds real nice,” Tommy admitted. “Thank you.” Mike rose to his feet and left the room. Tommy listened to the sounds emanating from the kitchen before it sank in that he had the perfect opportunity to sneak a look at the letters on Mike’s holder. Then he reconsidered. He couldn’t bring himself to cheat. That just wasn’t him,even if his own letters were worth shit.Damn it.
Tommy hadn’t realized until then just how competitive he was. By the time Mike returned with two steaming mugs, he was no closer to coming up with a decent word.What’s the point of havin’ two decent scorin’ letters and nowhere to use ’em?
Mike said nothing but sat facing him, sipping his drink, peering at his tiles and smiling smugly. “It’s a good thing we’re not timing this,” he said with a smirk.
“Not helpin’,” Tommy said under his breath.
“You could always change all your letters and forfeit your go,” Mike said with an innocent air
Tommy snorted. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you? I’ll justbetyou’ve already got another seven letter word lined up, haven’t ya?”
Mike feigned a suspicious gaze. “Did you peek while I was out of the room?” He chuckled. “Aww, c’mon, it’s just a game.”
“Yeah, an’ you’ve already won once.”
“I have, haven’t I?” There was that smug smile again.
That. Was. It.
Tommy stroked his chin thoughtfully. “We-ell,” he began, “thereisone word I could put down.” He strove to keep his face straight.
“Go for it.” Mike peered at the board. There were a few open areas left, but so far Tommy hadn’t come up with anything worth putting there.
Tommy tapped his index finger against his lips. “Okay, then.” He chose six tiles and placed then carefully on the board. “There.” He started adding up the score. It wasn’t great, not in the same league as Mike’s last effort, but it was better than nothing. “That gets me fifteen.”
Mike’s brow furrowed. “What’s ‘reborum’? I’ve never heard of that.”
“Oh?” Tommy arched his eyebrows. “It’s a natural fertilizer. It’s been used in cotton fields since forever.”
Mike shrugged. “You learn something new every day.” He added the score to the sheet and then gazed at his holder. “You did better than me. I’ve got mostly consonants.” He chose four tiles and added them to another word. “That gets me five, plus another eight for making a plural, so a total of thirteen. Still, not bad.”
The game progressed for another thirty minutes, with Tommy coming up with more words to do with farming and agriculture. With each new addition, Mike noted the score, but Tommy had a feeling he might have pushed his luck with the last one.
Mike sat back in his chair and gazed levelly at Tommy, arms folded across that broad chest. “If I was to look up that word in an online dictionary, would I find it?” His eyes bored into Tommy.
Well, shit—busted. Tommy went for a bluff. “Sure, why wouldn’t it be?” Mike stared harder, and Tommy fingered thecollar of his shirt. “Of course, maybe my spellin’ might be wrong, but yeah, I’m pretty sure it’d be in there.”
Mike’s mouth fell open. “Oh my God. Tommy Newsome, did you just lie to me?”
“No-oo,” Tommy protested, but he could tell from Mike’s face that the jig was up.
Mike shook his head, tut-tutting. “Wow. What can I say? An’ there was I thinking what a nice, good, wholesome young man you were.” He gave Tommy a sad smile.
Tommy stared at him, aghast.Aw crap. His heart sank—until Mike’s smile suddenly morphed into a shit-eating grin, and Tommy didn’t know whether to weep with relief or hit Mike for putting him through all that. Then he caught sight of a wicked glint in Mike’s eyes.Uh-oh….
“Gonna put you over my knee and paddle your ass for that,” Mike said, rising to his feet and making a show of rolling back his shirtsleeves. That grin of his hadn’t budged an inch.
