“A game?” Becca asked, which was good because Linx’s tongue and mouth didn’t seem to be useable at the moment. He froze in place.
This would end up on Inside Edition. He felt it in his bones.
“No, no one’s dead. It’s like an old person lottery,” Mach explained.
“An old person lottery?” Becca asked.
“Why does she keep repeating everything I say in question form?” Mach turned to Linx as though he would have the answer.
He didn’t because it made no fucking sense.
“There is no logic in any of this, that’s why.” Becca tossed her arms wide. Unfortunately, that movement stretched her t-shirt across her…rutabagas…which momentarily distracted him.
“It’s just a game,” Tanner said, getting control over himself. His cheeks were now only a light pink instead of bright red.
“I put my money on five minutes ago. I’m out. Tanner was out a half hour ago.” Mach hooked a thumb toward Tanner.
Tanner swallowed and stopped shoveling cake. “I didn’t know they weren’t in a hurry. Don’t worry, Becca, it’s just a game. Harmless.”
“I bet the funeral home doesn’t think it’s harmless.” Mach eyed the door. “Is it a crime to report a dead body? If it is, would that make us accomplices?”
“I should call my friend, she’s a lawyer.” Becca dug through her purse and pulled out her phone. She paused before she turned it on. Stopping and dropping it decidedly back in her bag. “You know what?” She slung her purse over her shoulder. “We should all just leave. In case.”
She caught Linx’s glance, and he knew exactly what she meant.
“Escape,” he said, offering her his hand to help her stand.
“Quickly.” She gripped his hand, bolting out the side door of the room.
Mach and Tanner were behind them, he was sure. Unless they paused for extra cake.
They probably paused for cake.
Becca didn’t seem like she was in the mood to go back to grab a to-go slice, so he didn’t ask. The two of them snuck across the snow-covered grass like they were covert agents until his Porsche was in sight.
“Linx?” Becca whispered from behind him.
He turned.
She pegged him with a snowball, right in the chest.
He stared at where the flecks of snow resided on his coat. Was she serious right now? Snowball fight during an escape?
Scratching at his jaw, he strode toward her.
She giggled. “I dare you to have a snowball fight with me.”
Oh, is that how she was going to play their escape?
He continued sauntering toward her like they weren’t escaping a retirement home lap dance session. She dodged him, but he was faster. He grabbed her waist before she slipped away and held her against him as they fell to the snow-covered lawn. Becca landed on top of him with a soft thud.
“You dare me, huh?” he asked, brushing a piece of hair from her forehead.
She bit at her lip. “Yes?”
He didn’t hit her with a snowball. That wouldn’t be fair because, even if she dared him, he was something of a savant when it came to kicking ass in a snowball war. Ask his sister, she’d tell anyone. Given that he actually wanted Becca to speak to him again, he went this route: the face to face, eye-fuck route that ended with him kissing the hell out of her there in the snowbank. One longing look between them and their mouths met in a tangle. Her warm breath was a reprieve from the cold all around them.
Much better than a snowball fight.
