Page 59 of Flirty Dancing

“What game are we playing tonight?” Archer asked Caleb as they flopped onto the less lumpy of the two couches in the cabin.

“I’ll give you a hint,” Caleb said, shifting closer and sliding a finger under Archer’s waistband. “It was Archer”—he kissed Archer’s nose—“in the cabin”—he kissed his chin—“with the killer body.” He planted another kiss on his lips.

Archer laughed. “I haven’t aclue.”

Caleb grinned. “Promise you’ll be my partner tonight anyway?”

“Of course.”

“We are, in fact, playingThe SimpsonsClue,” Dominik said, nudging his way past them and dropping the bright yellow box onto the coffee table before bouncing into the armchair.

“Simpsons Clue? How do you even have all these crazy games?” Archer asked as Ben and Beau took their spots on the floor next to them, and the others gathered around. Mateo wasn’t there, and neither were Gage and River.

“’Cause I’m awesome,” Dominik replied, opening the box and pulling out the character pieces. “I’m Homer–slash–Mr. Green.”

Seta rolled her eyes as she settled on the other couch with her drink. “I’d argue about why you get to choose your character first, but honestly, it’s not worth it.”

Dominik looked smug as he started handing out the detective notepads. “Glad you’re learning.”

The game proceeded pretty much as Archer remembered—first, three cards were hidden in an envelope that would reveal the murderer, location, and weapon. The rest of the cards were dealt out, then the players moved around the board and made suggestions when they had a whodunnit guess. The other players would prove them wrong by showing if they had one of those cards in their hand, so the guesser would cross those options off their notepad until, by process of elimination, someone had enough information to make an actual accusation.

It should take a while to rule out all the other suspects, so it was surprising when Dominik announced he wanted to make an official accusation very early in the game.

“What? Already?” Seta frowned. A player could only accuse once, and if they were wrong, they were out, so they had to be pretty sure.

Dominik cleared his throat. “Krusty the Clown, in the nuclear power plant, with the poisoned donut.” Dominik pulled the three cards out of the envelope, peeked at them, then, with a flourish, triumphantly laid them out for everyone to show he was right.

There was a pause. “How did you figure it out so quickly?” Seta asked, eyebrow quirked. “I don’t even have half the boxes crossed off yet.”

“Me neither,” Harley chimed in. “Highly suspicious.”

“I didn’t cheat, if that’s what you’re implying,” Dominik said primly.

“You must have, though,” Harley insisted. “Like, it’s literally impossible for you to have gotten it so fast.”

“I have a strategy,” Dominik allowed, shrugging and collecting the cards.

“‘Strategy’?” Seta repeated, with air quotes.

“I can’t tell you,” Dominik said, “or else I won’t be able to use it anymore.”

“Right.” Harley nodded. “Because it’s cheating.”

“It is not!”

Archer sighed and took a pull of his beer. He glanced at Caleb, wanting to share an eye roll, but Caleb was talking to Ben on the floor next to him.

“You’re going to have to tell us your strategy,” Betty waded in. “Or else it seems like you cheated.”

“Fine,” Dominik relented, wounded at the lack of trust.

The group waited, breath held.

“When someone makes a suggestion and then someone else proves them wrong,” Dominik explained, “I can tellwhat they’re crossing off bywherethey mark their detective sheet.”

Seta blinked at him. “What?”

Dominik rubbed at the fuzz on his head. “Like, if you guessed Bart and someone shows you one of their cards to prove you wrong, then you mark off something at thetopof your sheet where the suspects are, I know the murderer isn’t Bart. So, I can cross him off, too.”

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