Page 264 of How to Kiss a Hawthorne Brother
I nod. “I’m sure that’s what they’ll want to do. Are you good with that?”
She props her hands on her hips. “You said they’re hard to beat. Has anyone ever done it?”
“We change up teams sometimes to make it more fun, but with the two of them on the same team? They’re undefeated.”
“Hmm.” She smiles playfully. “Good to know.” She grabs my hand and tugs me toward the living room. “But just for the record? I play to win, and I have a feeling your luck is about to change.”
Tatumdefinitelyplays to win.
The woman is a machine. Confident. Bold. A few times, she even tosses out an answer before Brody has even finished reading the question.
I recognize the competitive edge she had back in school, but now instead of finding it irritating, it’s sexy as all get out.
At the same time, she’s a really good sport. Talking, joking, playing down her success in a way that keeps the game fun and easy.
“Okay, last round,” Brody says. “If you guys get three questions correct, you’ll win the game, and Lennox will have beaten me for the first time in the history of forever.”
“And I bet you aren’t bitter about that at all,” Kate says easily from her place beside him.
“If you get a question wrong,” Brody continues, “we have the chance to steal the win by answering the question you missed, plus two more.”
My eyes shift to Tatum who looks relaxed and comfortable, not even a little bit nervous.
Not that she should be. Me? I’ve been here for moral support. And the odd question about football, golf, or Grand Theft Auto, which I played with religious dedication while I was in school. But even without my help, Tatum would still be winning.
She cracks her knuckles and leans forward. “Okay. Let’s do this.”
“First category is literature,” Kate says, holding one of the trivia cards.
Literature is good. Tatum has gotten every one of the literature questions right so far.
“What nineteenth-century author tried to have his wife committed to an insane asylum so he could live with his eighteen-year-old mistress?” Kate looks up from the card. “Dang. That’s cruel.”
“If it’s any consolation, it didn’t work,” Tatum says. “The doctor who reviewed the case declared his wife in fine health and refused to send her away. Except, the ending of the story still sucks. Charles Dickens ended up sending his wife away himself when the doctor wouldn’t help. He put her up in a house at theedge of town, kept her from her children, and spent the rest of his life living with his mistress.”
“Um, Charles Dickens sounds like a jerk,” Kate says. “Also, that’s the correct answer.”
“How did you even know that?” I nudge Tatum’s knee with mine.
She shrugs. “I went through a British lit phase in high school.”
“Okay, next question,” Brody says. “The category is sports.”
Tatum reaches over and squeezes my knee, but then she leaves her hand there, resting it on my leg like it’s perfectly normal for us to touch each other, to sit this closely.
I stare at Brody, willing myself to focus on the question and not the warmth of her fingers searing me through my jeans.
“What NFL football team holds the record for most points scored in a Super Bowl match-up?”
Tatum’s grip tightens, and I drop my hand to rest on top of hers. “San Francisco Forty-Niners,” I say. “In 1990, playing against the Denver Broncos. They won fifty-five to ten.”
Brody sighs. “You and your stupid football brain.”
“Okay, last one,” Kate says. “For the win. The category is science and technology.”
This one could go either way. I keep my eyes trained on Kate even as Tatum pulls her hand away. I miss the contact immediately, but then her leg brushes up against mine, and I wonder if she wants the connection as much as I do.
“Okay,” Kate says. “What element on the periodic table has an atomic weight of 1.00794?”
