The thought rises up in an instant.
Because she’s living under my roof, after all. We should be comfortable around one another.
Not because I want an excuse to watch her in those shorts.
I take my drink back and eye the dog on my forearm. “You tricked me. If you were honorable, we’d both know the game we were playing going in.”
Her lips purse, but there’s a glint of challenge in her eyes. “What do you suggest?”
“A rematch. The loser gets a tattoo in the location of the winner’s choosing.” I down the rest of my drink, then nod to the Twister mat. “You first.”
9
KAT
I’ve created a monster.
A gorgeous, competitive monster.
When he proposed the rematch, I figured it was false bravado on his part.
But two moves each into the game and he’s standing on the mat, feet three spaces apart and hands free to rub together in perverse delight.
“Left hand yellow,” Daniel declares.
His trousers from work cling to his hips, the sleeves of his dress shirt rolled up to reveal strong forearms. One bearing the tattoo I put on him earlier.
I’m on the opposite side, one foot and one hand committed.
“You sure you haven’t played this in years?”
“Nope. One of my roommates in college had a set that was his parents’. We played it as a drinking game.”
He’s quick and smart. Curious and determined.
Plus, he’s fun as hell when he lets his guard down.
When I first checked him out months ago, I didn’t appreciate all there was to him. The guys I’ve flirted with or casually dated all seem immature by comparison.
Daniel is a man.
And it’s a straight shame he doesn’t have a social life, because he’d be good at it. I bet he was good at it, once.
“What’s the point?” I muse aloud. “Prove who’s the bendiest?”
“It’s about awkwardness. Who can keep a straight face.”
“Then I’m definitely winning.”
“You can’t out-awkward me. I’m a professor. It’s in the job description”
I laugh. “Don’t pretend you have the market cornered on awkward.”
“Come on. You’re pretty and popular. I bet you were prom queen.”
“I didn’t go to prom.”
“Too cool.”