“You’re that, too. But you can’t forget your roots,” she said with a smirk. “I might be trying to take the man out of the romance novel, but you can’t take the romance novel out of the man.”
“Stop.”
“I’m just saying, my quivering flower can’t wait for your thick, pulsing, turgid… kielbasa.”
“That’s it!”
She squealed as he leaped at her, scooping her over his shoulder and giving her a quick, disorienting spin. Thenext thing she knew, he’d brought her into the living room and dumped her on the couch. Before she could catch her breath, he began to tickle her mercilessly.
“I’ll kielbasayou,” he growled over her giggles.
“Okay, okay! I yield!”
When he leaned over her, smiling and shaking his head, she reached up and pulled him down to her. This kiss was deeper. He took his time with her, coaxing her to respond, teasing her mouth with the tip of his tongue until she opened for him. Nothing had ever felt more right, more perfect, than her lips against his.
With a groan, Will pulled back. “You’re making it hard for me to remember my reasons for not stripping you naked here and now.”
“Emotional turmoil,” she reminded him. “Very sad and broody.”
“Right. Sad and broody.” But he didn’t feel that way with her. Not anymore. She had whisked away his bad mood with strategic genitalia jokes. “If we’re not going to introduce my kielbasa to your flower, how do you want to pass the afternoon?”
“Scrabble picnic?”
“What is a scrabble picnic?”
She pushed herself up until she was sitting. “It’s what it sounds like. We used to do it all the time when I was younger. We played Scrabble in the park while we ate a picnic lunch.”
“I don’t own Scrabble.”
“What? How?”
“Because I live alone and, until recently, I regularly worked more hours than was healthy.”
“We need to fix this,” Emmy said resolutely. “Is there a Target around here? Do you guys have Target? Or maybe we can borrow something from Bright. You think she has like… vagina Scrabble?”
“What is it with you and genitals?”
Emmy did her best to look affronted. “Me?She’s the one selling boob paperweights and beer bottle penises.”
“Yeah, fair enough.” He reached out and helped her to her feet. “Anyway, the nearest Target is in Springfield. We can just go to Grabby’s.”
“Grabby’s?”
“Yeah, it’s one of those secondhand stores where there’s just a bunch of shit lying around and you can buy it. Books and games, outdated candy… no, that’s not the word. What is it? Obsolete? Extinct?”
Emmy giggled as they headed for the door. “I think you mean discontinued.”
“Yes! That’s it. Anyway, if Grabby’s doesn’t have Scrabble, no one in town will.”
“Sounds like a plan. Added bonus—we can get some dinosaur candy for our picnic.”
Will rolled his eyes as he took his keys off the hook. “Misspeak one time and she busts your balls for life,” he grumbled.
Twenty-Three
Theodore Grabby was an archetype. Emmy was sure of it. She wasn’t sure what this particular type of character would be called, but she thought of him as a Jolly Wise Grandpa. Almost a Santa Claus. She couldn’t help but love him, and that was probably the point.
“Scrabble, huh?” Grabby smiled through the fluffy salt-and-pepper beard/mustache combo that covered the entire lower half of his face. “I got three different editions. Are you looking for the ’76, the ’81, or the ’89?”
