Page 35 of The Games We Play
Grinning, I reached behind me, grabbed her phone from the counter, and turned up the volume, letting the soft strum of music fill the air. The melody wrapped around us, thick and warm.
Moving from her grip, I put enough distance between us to hold out my hand. She eyed it skeptically, hesitation flickering in her expression, but after a beat, she placed hers in mine.
I loved the way curiosity played across her features—the way her brows pulled together just slightly, her lips twitching like she was trying to figure me out.
Still holding her gaze, I tugged her away from the kitchen and into the open space of her living room. With a quick flick of my wrist, I spun her in a slow, graceful circle, then pulled her flush against me.
Our bodies pressed together, and I swayed us to the music.
In the middle of her apartment, under the soft glow of lamplight, we danced—our own little world wrapped up in the sound of an old country love song.
I led us into an easy two-step, guiding her left before shifting our bodies in sync. With each turn, each playful sway, I let my touch linger, fingers trailing down her arms, her back. The heat between us simmered—familiar and intoxicating.
Then, with a teasing grin, I spun her out again, only to bring her right back in, catching her against my chest.
“Okay, look at you go,” she said breathlessly, her laughter bright as she looked up at me. “Who knew Mac Ridley had moves?”
I chuckled, keeping my grip steady. “This is the extent of my dancing.”
Slow swaying, a two-step, and a few simple twirls were all I needed to know to impress anyone. Anything past this became very questionable.
Penny smirked. “Oh, I don’t know… I think you’ve got a little more in you.”
She dipped back playfully, trusting me to hold her, and when I did, she laughed before righting herself, her arms looping around my neck.
The song slowed, and with it, so did we.
Penny rested her head against my chest, and I let my chin brush the top of her hair, breathing her in. Our sock-covered feet glided effortlessly across the wooden floor, moving in perfect sync, like we’d been dancing together our whole lives.
And with every step, every twirl, I felt myself sinking deeper into her.
She glanced up, that familiar longing glimmering in her eyes, and just like that—I softened.
Completely.
Hopelessly.
And I knew right then… I was a goner for this woman.
10
PENNY
PRESENT DAY.
Spin. Shuffle. Hip sway.
The beat pulsed through my speaker, and I moved with it, completely lost in my own little world. The vacuum became my dance partner, the living room my stage, and I belted out every lyric like I was performing for a sold-out crowd.
Chores didn’t have to be miserable—not if you found ways to make them fun.
Laundry? I sang like I was headlining the Grand Ole Opry.
Dishes? I played in the suds, shaping bubbles into beards, blowing them into the air just to watch them pop.
Finding joy in the little things—that was the secret to making the hard days feel less suffocating. Those tiny, ridiculous moments? They were the ones I looked forward to, the ones that reminded me life didn’t always have to be so heavy.
That’s why my home was more than just a place to sleep. It was my safe haven. My castle. A space where only a select few were granted entry—only those I trusted, only those who truly mattered.
