Page 4 of The Games We Play
As if on cue, the first few guests started filtering in through the wide barn doors. The space had completely transformed. Not only were my bats finally hanging where they belonged, but the entire barn was draped in the eerie glow of red string lights. Skeletons perched on hay bales, oversized spiders clung to the walls, and the scent of hay mixed with the crisp autumn air.
Boone wandered to the corner, plugging his phone into the speaker. Within seconds, the deep thrum of bass pulsed through the space, the opening notes of a familiar country song setting the mood.
That was my cue to pour myself a drink and get the party started.
Red Solo cup in hand, I surveyed my options, tapping my chin, one hip popped out as I considered the lineup of drinks. The table was a sea of red, black, and purple, each container labeled with some ominous concoction. Witch’s Brew or Zombie Juice? What a hard decision.
“If it helps,” a deep voice murmured against my ear, sending a delicious shiver down my spine, “I made the Zombie Juice. Biased or not, it’s fucking amazing.”
I startled, turning sharply only to find myself nearly chest-to-chest with Mac. He stood close, too close. His scent—whiskey, smoke, and something inherently him—wrapped around me likea lasso. My gaze dipped, my fingers tightening around my cup as I took in every detail of his costume.
Starting at his feet, he wore worn brown cowboy boots, broken in and beat up telling a story. Purple slacks stretched over his long legs, topped with a matching suit coat that clung to his lanky frame just right. But it was his face that stopped me in my tracks.
White paint covered his skin, a wide unsettling grin painted across his mouth, and behind his green-dyed hair that curled around his ears, a cigarette was tucked for safekeeping.
The Joker.
And damn if that didn’t do something to me.
A villain had never looked so tempting.
Heat pooled low in my belly, and I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from reacting
I stepped back slightly, arching a brow as I caught him scanning me just as thoroughly. His gaze dragged over every inch of my costume—the tight fabric, the curves I wasn’t shy about flaunting, and, of course, the dangerous neckline that left just enough to the imagination.
“Zombie Juice it is,” I purred, a smirk tugging at my lips. For good measure, I winked before spinning around to fill my cup to the brim.
When I turned back, I met his gaze head-on, bringing the cup to my lips and taking a long, slow sip, letting the liquid burn down my throat. His eyes darkened, amusement flickering through them.
He wasn’t lying, this drink was damn good.
“I like your costume,” I mused, wiping the corner of my mouth with the back of my hand, careful not to ruin my lipstick.
Mac grinned, slow and wicked, before spreading his arms wide and giving me a slow turn. “Figured it fit my personality.”
I raked my gaze over him again, then tilted my head. “I’ve always liked a little chaos.”
He stepped a fraction closer, just enough that my pulse kicked up. “That so?”
I took another sip, letting the taste of the drink mix with the heat between us. “Guess you’ll just have to find out.”
Mac let out a gravelly laugh, a rich and deep timbre. His voice was sultry, like every word he said carried the extra weight of seduction.
“Is that a promise?” Mac asked, tilting his head slightly like a cat sizing up its prey.
A teasing smile curved my lips. “One I fully intend to keep.”
His gaze flickered with something dark, something promising, before he took a step back, nodding. “I’ll hold you to that, Penny.”
I shrugged, lifting my cup to my lips, letting the weight of his words settle between us.
But Mac wasn’t done.
“By the way,” he added, pointing at me with the tip of his beer bottle, his voice smooth as sin, “you look good dressed as apussycat.”
And then hepurred.
A deep, throaty laugh burst from my lips, my head tipping back as the sound filled the space between us. Mac’s smirk deepened, his eyes lingering on me for just a second longer before he turned and walked away, leaving me standing there, biting my lip.
