Page 97 of Game Changer
I stand and walk over to him.“It was a last-minute decision.Nice to see you again, Mr.Wynn.”
“Mark.Please.”He claps a hand on Jax’s shoulder.“Sorry to interrupt.I’ll go see if I can get a room at one of the hotels.”
Everyone glances at each other.It’s acutely uncomfortable for a few seconds.Then Tori says, “You don’t have to do that.There’s lots of room here.”
“Yeah, Dad.”Jax appears relieved.“I’m sleeping on one of the couches.You can have one of the others.”
Mark hesitates.His gaze lands on Tori, and for a moment they share a long, indecipherable look.“You sure?”he finally says quietly.
“Of course.”She smiles.“You can join our Trivial Pursuit game.I have to warn you, though, Molly is a whiz.”
Mark meets my eyes and grins.“I suck at trivia.”
“I guess Jax gets it from his mom’s side of the family.”
“I had no idea Jax was into trivia.”
“He’s a champ,” I tell his dad, feeling a twinge of sadness that Mark doesn’t know that.
“Dad, can I get you a drink?”
“Sure.I’d love a beer.”Mark pulls an armchair closer to the coffee table.
I follow Jax to the kitchen to get a bottle of wine.“You okay with this?”I ask quietly.
He grimaces and closes the fridge door, a beer in his hand.“Don’t have much choice, I guess.”We pause, face to face, so close we’re almost touching.He smiles down at me.“Family, huh?”
“You definitely have a lot of it.”I smile back at him, my insides melting at the affection in his eyes.“They’re all great, though.”
One corner of his mouth lifts.“They’re okay.As long as Mom and Dad get along.And as long as Grandpa doesn’t go after Dad with the axe.”
“Eek.Hard feelings?”
“You could say that.”
We carry drinks back to the living room.The fire has burned low, so Jax takes a minute to poke at it and put another log on, and then we resume our game.
Tori gives Jax and me a run for our money.She knows who lives at 39 Stone Canyon Way (the Flintstones).But Mark knows what an eagle is in golf and that Blackjack is the better-known name of the card game Twenty-One.
“What was Little Miss Muffet eating when she sat on her tuffet?”I ask Jax.
He lifts an eyebrow.“What the fuck is a tuffet?”
“I don’t know, but that’s not the question.And keep it clean.”
His family guffaws.I’m fitting right in here.
“A tuffet is like a footstool,” Mr.Thompson says.
“Ah.Okay.I think she was eating…a buffet.”He pronounces it to rhyme with tuffet.
I fall over laughing.
“Oh, come on!”Mrs.Thompson says.“You don’t know that?”
Jax grimaces.“Nope.”
“Eating her curds and whey,” say Mr.and Mrs.Thompson, Mark and Tori all at the same time.
