Page 33 of The Games We Play
The sharp slam of the register drawer snapped my attention back.
“You on your way up to see our girl?” Sandy asked, leaning forward on the butcher block counter with a knowing grin.
I nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”
With a tap on the counter, she turned, rummaging behind her for something. When she faced me again, she held out a single red rose.
I stopped in often, always grabbing flowers for Penny. Sandy knew the drill.
Reaching into my back pocket, I pulled out my wallet, peeling off a few bills. “Keep the change,” I said, offering her a smile as I extended my hand for the rose.
Sandy just shook her head. “It was an extra. You just take it up to her, okay?”
Not wanting to tell the woman no because I knew I’d never get away with it, I took the flower. “You need anything before I head up?”
She shook her head and waved me off. With simple goodbyes, I departed, exiting through the front door.
When I got to Penny’s door, I looked down at the doormat, which read, “Come On In I’m Still Not Ready,” and chuckled. Raising my fist, I knocked against her door, waiting for the familiar sound of her voice.
“It’s open!” Penny called, her voice muffled but warm.
I turned the knob and pushed the door open, immediately hit with the mouthwatering scent of garlic.
“You really should lock this,” I said, kicking off my wet boots and leaving them by the entrance before stepping further inside.
Penny never locked her door. Her ability to trust was endearing and also incredibly frightening.
The walls of her apartment were a vibrant mismatch of color, covered in gold-framed paintings of all shapes and sizes. Nothing matched, but everything radiated with personality—just like her.
Soft music hummed from the kitchen, a melody weaving through the air, pulling me in.
I found her at the counter, rolling out pizza dough, her hips swaying lazily to the beat. A small smile tugged at my lips. She had no idea how effortlessly beautiful she was—how damn intoxicating the sight of her could be.
She wore the cutest apron, dotted with tiny pink flowers, her hair piled into a messy top knot. A few stray curls had escaped, framing her face. I had the sudden urge to reach out, to tuck them behind her ear just for an excuse to touch her.
“Meh,” she said, not bothering to look up as she pressed her fingers into the dough. “I could take whoever decided to come through that door. Joke’s on them, I have a taser.”
She finally glanced up, flashing me a lopsided grin—the kind that sent a spark straight through my chest.
I chuckled, stepping closer. “You and a taser sound like a dangerous combination.”
Before she could fire back, I leaned in, brushing a kiss against her cheek, letting my lips linger just long enough to feel the heat rise beneath her skin.
Penny giggled, leaning into my kiss, soft and warm against me. When I finally pulled away, I leaned my hip against the counter as I watched her.
“I have something for you,” I said, my voice quieter than I intended.
Her eyes snapped up to mine, curiosity flickering in their depths. She paused mid-knead, flour-dusted fingers stilled against the dough, giving me her full attention.
I pulled out the rose from behind my back.
Her lips parted slightly, eyes widening as they flickered from the flower to my face. Slowly, as if savoring the moment, she reached out, her delicate fingers brushing against mine as she took the stem. That simple touch sent a spark straight through me, heat pooling beneath my skin.
“Mac,” she sighed, her voice wrapping around my name like silk.
Bringing the rose to her nose, she inhaled deeply, a smile blooming across her face.
I simply stood there, watching her, completely and utterly mesmerized because that’s all I could do. The way she twirled the flower between her fingers, the way she savored something so small—it made my chest tighten, and something profound inside me shifted.
