Page 36 of The Romance Game

The corners of Harley’s lips twist in a sympathetic smile. “He probably did watch all your games, Ryan. He was always at the ones in high school.”

“He wasn’t.”

“A lot of them. At least the home games.”

“I think I’d know if my grandfather was in the bleachers.”

“That’s because he wasn’t there. But I saw him with my own eyes. He sat in the commentator’s box.”

“You used to wear glasses, so just how good are your eyes?” I tease.

Her smile thins. “Ha ha. Very funny. I got contacts before high school because someone, not naming names, teased me. Now, I only need glasses for reading. My eyes are fine. I can see you clearly and you have something in between yourteeth.”

“I do?” I run my tongue over them.

She flashes the brattiest smile. “Ha ha. Made you check. No, you don’t have anything in your teeth. But Chip was in the box. Mr. Gustafson was the main guy, and he always had a student assistant—usually the head cheerleader’s boyfriend Chris Jackson. She’d tell me to tell him where they’d meet during halftime.”

“You’re not making this up, are you?”

“Why would I make up such an elaborate and pointless story? I figured you knew your grandfather was there.”

I tap the air with my finger. “Ah. He sat up there because the commentator’s box was air-conditioned.”

Harley nods and her eyes dip in reverie. “Yep. And those thirty seconds relaying the message to Chris were pure climate-controlled bliss. But then I’d have to run back down the stairs and would be hotter than when I’d gone up.”

“You were definitely hot.”

“If this table weren’t between us I’d give you the atomic elbow.”

I chuckle at the way Brando, my brothers, and I used to torment each other with elbow jabs—the atomic one was the worst. “You can’t do the atomic elbow.”

“I’ve had over ten years to practice, you’d better believe I can do it.”

Holding up my hands in protest, I say, “I’m not volunteering. But everyone at Key Largo High School knew you were hot. Senior yearbook superlative: Harley Jean Owens, the hottest student.”

“If you don’t stop, I’m going to start believing you.”

“Be my guest.”

Our gazes cruise past each other as if not sure whether the light is green, yellow, or red.

My pulse kicks.

She shifts slightly as if something flutters inside.

My breath is shaky when I exhale. “I’m surprised Chip was there. News to me. So was the will. I consulted the RomanceGame rulebook and you need to read this.” Her phone is on the table too and I switch them like a dealer in a shell game.

“Okay, fine. But I’m only doing it so I don’t break any rules. The Junk goes to Magnus, the Sloop, to Ryan...” She trails off and must read the rest before she goes quiet. “The Sloop?”

“The Sip & Scoop. Chip named all the buildings after boats.”

“You own the old ice cream shop?”

I nod slowly.

She keeps reading. Even though I practically have it memorized, it refuses to make sense to me. Throughout school, I could do my homework just fine. Okay, not often, but still, I could complete an assignment. When it came to taking tests, I’d choke up. Couldn’t understand the same words I’d read hundreds of times. It’s kind of like that with the will.

Harley’s voice fades, but her lips continue to move. I cannot stop staring at her lips. They’re so full, so soft, so perfect.

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