Page 27 of Married with Mayhem

“Charming turn of phrase,” I mutter as he tips the bottle back and takes a swallow.

He grimaces, wipes his mouth and offers the bottle. The gleam of a challenge flares in his eyes. Stubbornness wins over common sense. I copy his barbarian move and drink straight from the bottle.

The heat of a thousand suns explodes in my mouth. Volcanic lava sears my throat. My eyes sting with tears and the bottle starts to slip from my fingers.

Luckily, Monte has the reflexes of a cheetah and plucks the bottle from my grip before I drop it on the floor.

And he’s laughing now.

I’m standing here gagging and gasping as the flesh peels off my throat and he’s cackling up a storm like he’s sitting in the front row at a comedy club.

Just when I’m about to hoarsely call him an asshole, Monte makes a faint attempt at redemption. With a tiny gesture of chivalry, he refills the water glass and hands it over.

I’ve never drunk a glass of water so fast. I need to catch my breath when I’m finished but at least the fire in my throat has subsided and I don’t want to die anymore.

“Warned you,” he says with a smug look.

“You didn’t win,” I croak. I need to clear my tortured throat before I can choke out another word. “My tits are still intact.”

“There’s nothing to win, Sabrina. Why are you so game-obsessed?”

“I don’t know. Why are you so sex-obsessed?”

He rolls his eyes. “As if you don’t blurt out sex references ten times more than I do.”

“That’s a complete exaggeration,” I object.

But inwardly, I’m cringing.

My hangups with intimacy aren’t prime conversation fodder. Especially not with a guy as absurdly hot as Monte.

Besides, he’s not wrong.

Sex fascinates me. I’m guilty of letting this obsession creep into conversation around people I’m comfortable with. I reallyreallywish I knew how to enjoy sex outside of my daydreams but I don’t. I’ve tried. Always a failure.

However, this is definitely not a slice of life tidbit I’m interested in sharing with Monte Castelli. Good lord, the mocking would be merciless.

Monte ends the discussion by looking away. Maybe he senses that he’s touched a nerve. I’m grateful he’s chosen not to push. In spite of a few mild verbal spats, he’s been really cool since I called him from the airport this afternoon.

“I’ll answer your question,” I say. “But I’ve earned the right to sit down.”

A crinkle of surprise carves itself between his brows. “The couch is open.”

On the short walk to the living room couch, I pull the playing cards from the box. The weight of them in my hands is reassuring as I take a seat and curl my legs underneath me.

Monte sinks down on the opposite end. The couch creaks under his weight. He’s less confused now. Simply curious.

With intuitive precision, I start an overhand shuffle of the cards in my hands. “My childhood home wasn’t exactly a delightful place. My father treated my mother like dirt. He resented her for giving him daughters instead of sons and he resented the three of us girls even more. There were always men from my father’s entourage hanging around and the mood was constantly tense and troubled, as if something horrible would happen any minute.”

When I take a break to split the deck in half and shuffle them riffle-style in my lap, Monte simply waits. His dark eyes stay patiently trained on me until I finish tucking the cards neatly together.

“You know how close I am to my sisters. Anni and Daisy are everything to me. I have my sisters to thank for the fact that I wasn’t miserable and never felt unloved. But Anni had her competitive ice skating and she was fiercely independent. Meanwhile, Daisy was everyone’s favorite with a million friends. And that’s where the three of us have always stood. Daisy is the sweet, beautiful sister. Anni is the strong, talented sister. I’m just kind of the geeky, big-breasted sidekick who got stuck with the genetic leftovers. But I am good at games. Life doesn’t come with a set of rules. But games do. The gaming world is the one place where I know how to win.”

I fan the cards out in my hands, push them back together, cut the deck in half, shuffle with impressive speed, and then perfectly fan the deck out across the narrow coffee table. I’m pleased with my work.

“Pick one,” I say to Monte.

He eyes the cards. “What for?”

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