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I’m being ridiculous; I know. If Robbie had continued flirting and made a move, I would likely have left anyway. Yet now he’s not doing those things, I feel like I’m crawling out of my skin, wanting to know why.

“No, I want you to stay, actually. What do you want to do? TV, console, board game, cards?”

“You want to hang out?” Now I’m even more confused.

“Yeah. I mean, I’m down for anything, but you said I’m not your type.” He winks.

My anger lessens only a fraction at his reassurance, because now he’s mocking me. I shove the empty glass into his hand, then head back to the living room, where I wedge myself into the corner of the sofa.

Robbie comes in after a minute or two and hands me another drink. Then, for some reason, he bends down, kneeling between my legs. My whole body tenses.

What the hell is he doing?

His beard brushes my bare knee as he leans closer, making goosebumps break out across my skin. “Robbie.” My voice breaks, and I wriggle back as far as I can go.

He looks up at me and grins, placing a box on my lap. I stare down at it, then at him. “You can’t be serious.”

He nods and goes to sit on the sofa, leaving space between us.

“I don’t want to play Scrabble,” I scoff.

“Why? Afraid you’ll lose?” He rests his arm on the back of the sofa, facing me.

I narrow my eyes at him. “I wouldn’t lose to you.”

He leans over and taps the wooden box twice. “Prove it.”

Half an hour. Half an hour of this stupid fucking game, and he isn’t losing.

I stare at my tiles, clenching my jaw too hard. Robbie chuckles, making it impossible to concentrate. The letters blur together, and I blink several times to focus. I smirk, finally seeing a solution that will put me in the lead.

“P, R,” Robbie says as I lay the tiles across the I of KITE. “C, K.” The grin slips off his face, replaced by an arched brow. “Prick … Thirteen points. Aren’t you a clever boy.”

My cheeks flame at the word boy, and I wriggle in my seat, looking for a distraction. I lean over the coffee table to grab my empty glass and jump off the sofa, needing to move. “Want a drink?”

“No thanks. Help yourself.”

“Don’t cheat.”

“I’m a grown man, I’m not going to cheat.”

I walk backwards, not taking my eyes off him until I’m in the hall. Then I rush to the kitchen and pour the last of the tonic water into my glass.

“Take a look, haven’t touched a thing,” Robbie says when I return.

I squish back into the corner of the sofa and gulp down half the glass before putting it on the side table. “Go on then, your turn.”

Robbie picks up three tiles and lays down L, I, C, connecting to the K of my PRICK. I growl at the stupidity of this game. Such a basic word gives him ten points.

“Calm down, rottweiler. Your turn.”

I look further down the board and manage to use FISH to make HOME.

Robbie takes his time, humming as he leans forward to lay a couple of tiles.

When I look at the board, he’s added RIM across LICK. “You’re a child.” I throw one of my tiles at him, and it bounces off his pec.

“I’m the child?”