Page 109 of The Games We Play
“I’m texting Rhodes later to tell him you cried into your plate at how amazing it was.”
“Oh, I will cry,” I said with mock seriousness. “But only because I realize I wasted years not letting you cook for me more often.”
“Years, huh?” she teased, swirling her own fork. “So dramatic.”
“What can I say? You bring it out of me.”
She laughed, that soft, melodic laugh I hadn’t realized I missed so much. We kept eating, exchanging stories and banter between bites, each moment folding over the next like soft layers in something new, something warm.
By the time we were finished, her cheeks were pink from the wine and the candlelight, and I was thoroughly full and completely charmed by her.
“So,” she said, leaning back in her chair and eyeing me. “Did dinner win me any points?”
I tilted my head. “Depends. Am I staying for dessert?”
Penny raised an eyebrow, the corner of her mouth lifting. “What kind of dessert are we talking about?”
I stood slowly, rounding the table to her side. “Wait, shouldn’tIbe the one trying to win the points?”
She tilted her face up toward mine, eyes dancing. “Smart man.”
“Let me start with the dishes, and then we can see if I earn something a little sweeter,” I whispered.
“You just might,” she murmured.
We moved into the kitchen together, side by side. Everything tonight felt heightened—sharper, warmer, charged. I filled the sink, silent except for the music in the background as the water ran.
Penny handed me the first plate, and our fingers touched—intentionally, neither of us pulling away.
“I have a favor to ask you,” Penny said, mischief lighting her eyes. “And saying yes will definitely earn you some of those points. Could even get you out of the doghouse faster.”
“Oh?” I glanced at her, amused, as I scrubbed a plate clean. “Do tell.”
“Last year, I worked with the Cassidys for the library fundraiser,” she explained, stepping closer, her hip brushing mine. “This year, the board is already on my case about what I’m planning. So, I was thinking…”
I grabbed the next plate from her hands but kept my eyes locked on hers. I knew that tone. She was buttering me up.
“You want to use the bar for some kind of fundraiser, don’t you?” I asked with a grin.
She winked, her smile teasing. “Exactly.”
I playfully rolled my eyes, placing the plate in the drying rack. Penny could ask me to shut down the bar for a week and I wouldn’t bat an eye. Whatever she needed, I’d make it happen. Hell, I’d rebuild the damn place if she asked.
“Sure,” I said casually, returning to the sink. “What are you thinking?”
She sighed dramatically and leaned against the counter, her head dropping between her shoulders. “I don’t know yet. I haven’t really mapped it out. But whatever we do, it needs to happen soon.”
“Well, whatever it is, the bar’s yours,” I told her.
Penny tapped her chin thoughtfully. “Hear me out, we could get the guys involved. And maybe…” She lifted her hands in the air as if defending herself. “A mechanical bull?”
I barked out a laugh, tilting my head back. “You want a mechanical bull inside The Tequila Cowboy?”
She nodded eagerly. “Please?” She moved closer, gripping my biceps with her hands. She gave me that damn pouty face, bouncing slightly on her toes. “Pretty please?”
It wasn’t that I was against it—it was just… the bar wasn’t exactly that kind of place. We had cover bands and the very occasional line-dancing lesson. But a full-on theatrical bull ride? That was another level.
Still… she was looking at me like that, and it melted me into a puddle, completely at her mercy.
