Page 52 of Fight For Us
“What’s up? You look like someone kicked your dog.”
He set his attention back on me and clenched his jaw. “I don’t know. We’ve been joking around and that’s great but I feel like shit that this night is a disaster. Look at this dump. You shouldn’t have to eat here.”
I fiddled with the edge of the menu and thought of what to say. He was right about how we’ve been joking around and teasing, but that was us. Or at least that’s how we’ve always been. As much as I was starting to trust him, there were layers to me that I haven’t shown. Hiding behind jokes made it easier to feel normal.
“This isn’t your fault and honestly even if you did book this on your own, I’d still be grateful,” I said.
“Grateful? That guy over there just farted louder than the TV. Tiger, this place… That hotel… You deserve so much better. I can give you better.” He glanced over his shoulder toward the door. “If we leave now, we can find a decent restaurant on the way home.”
Maybe I was nuts, but I was tired of fancy restaurants and luxury hotels. I wanted real. Wes may have seen this place as a dump, and yeah it was run down, but I saw the beauty in all its flaws.
“How about a game?” I asked. He raised his brow and scrubbed a hand over his scruff.
“You’re avoiding my suggestion,” he said as he cocked his head. I shrugged and offered a half smile that had him huffing. “What kind of game? And don’t say Spades. I’m not falling for your so-called beginners luck again.”
“Do you see me busting out a deck of cards?” He narrowed his eyes, like I could be hiding cards in my nonexistent bra. “Not cards. It’s a game I used to play with my sister when we were bored at our parent’s parties. Do you know the kids game, Guess Who?”
“Guess Who? Yeah, the one where you ask yes or no questions?”
“Exactly. So we each pick a person, but be sneaky about it! Don’t let me see you staring.” He chuckled and shook his head. “I’m serious, it’ll be fun. Pick a person and I’ll ask yes or no questions to see if I can guess who it is.”
“This place is like ninety percent old dudes,” he said. He stared off for a moment before asking, “What do I get if I win?”
“The pleasure of my company.”
“Tempting, but I think you can do better.” He stretched his arms and rested one on the back of my stool.
“Okay.” I paused to think. “How about whoever loses has to answer questions about themselves?”
The bartender, probably the only other woman in the room from what I could tell, finally greeted us. She looked rough around the edges, like she’d seen her fair share of shit in her forty or so years and it made her stronger. “What can I get you two?”
“Two beers, whatever you recommend,” I said. Wes covered his hand with mine on top of the bar and cut in.
“One beer actually. I’ll take a Coke.”
“Sounds good,” she said and turned to get our drinks.
“You’re not drinking?” I asked.
“Nah, I’m not in the mood.”
Interesting.
“You’re a mysterious guy sometimes, Wesley Reed.” I glanced down at his hand resting on top of mine and smiled. “So, our game? Do you accept the conditions?”
“I accept. No cheating this time.”
“You’ll never let me live that game of Spades down will you? I swear I didn’t cheat.”
The bartender brought our drinks and we ordered a plate of wings and fries, figuring deep fried food had less of a chance at being undercooked. Wes’s theory, not mine. Once she walked toward the kitchen, Wes leaned in close and brushed my hair off my shoulder. The graze of his calloused fingertips against my bare shoulder lit a heated path along my skin.
For the second time that evening, he brought his lips to my ear, his voice a throaty whisper that had me inching closer. I angled my body until our knees touched. “You ready, Tiger? Because I have so many questions.”
All I managed to say in reply was a breathy, “Yeah?”
“Oh, yeah. I’m ready to win. Go ahead, ask me a question.” I swallowed and reached for my beer, putting a few inches of space between us again. I hadn’t picked my target yet, but as I glanced around I noticed a man sitting alone. His shirt said something about grandkids, but I couldn’t read it without staring. I knew better than to pick someone with features that stood out. This man was perfect.
I sipped my beer and asked the standard first question, although I was pretty sure I knew the answer. “Is your person a man?”
