Page 5 of Game Changer

My seatmate stacks our empty glasses and sets both on his tray.

I take that as assent and try to think up a good one. “I once stole a chocolate bar from a grocery store.”

His beautiful mouth twists in dissatisfaction.

Lame.

“I once gave a man a tattoo.”

Now there’s a lift of one dark brow. He’s listening.

“And… I love my sister more than anyone in the world.”

He makes a sound like a scoff as he takes me in, a long sweep from my toes upward that lingers on my faded jeans, the curve of my breasts under my off-the-shoulder T-shirt, and my candy-pink hair before landing on the lip gloss I swear the tequila washed away.

I’m not a total stranger to male attention. But I’ve never been the subject of a look like that, and certainly not from a man like him.

“The last one.”

My mouth falls open in protest. “What? Why would I lie about that?”

“You’re not lying to me. You’re lying to yourself.”

What the…? Did this guy I’ve known for fifteen minutes seriously question my relationship with my sister?

The flight attendant returns, like a magnet who’s found her true north, and my hoodie hottie orders us two more tequilas.

The first is going to my head, like helium lifting me up.

The drinks are set in front of us moments later with another longing look at Mr. Grumpy, plus a suspicious one at me. She’s perturbed I’m building rapport with her dream guy.

Funny how being in a confined space with another person, in the presence of alcohol, breaks down boundaries.

I take a sip, trying his method of pacing consumption, and make a face.

It tastes terrible.

I toss the rest back in a single swig and set the cup on my tray with a flourish.

“Your turn to say three things,” I inform him.

“No.”

“That’s how games work.”

“‘How games work’ is you should know the rules before you start.”

He reaches for his phone and starts reading.

Well then.

I fish in the seat pocket and take out my magazine.Sports Illustrated.

My companion glances over. His eyes stick to the magazine.

“My new brother-in-law, he’s—” I catch myself, remembering my sister’s request to be discrete. According to Mari, Harlan’s some hotshot basketball GM, and I shouldn’t announce that to everyone. “He’s really into sports.”

He looks over my shoulder, then rips the open page out of the magazine.

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