Chapter 9
Chapter Nine
Gage sensed Sloane’s hesitation and searched his mind for some way to combat it. He hated the thought of her spending the next day or so downstairs alone, especially when every blast of wind and crack of the storm left her flinching.
She tried to hide her responses but couldn’t. And even if he had to feign sickness or injury himself, he felt the compulsion to do whatever it took to ease the stress she obviously felt about staying upstairs with him. “How’s the ankle?”
He’d nearly forgotten about her limping into the bathroom, more focused on the many cuts and blood on her limb-battered body, but now that he remembered, he dropped into a crouch and wrapped his hands around her calf and foot.
“It’s fi—”
She didn’t finish the sentence due to a gasp of pain, and he shook his head. “Yeah, right. That doesn’t sound fine to me.”
“It hurts some,” she said, grimacing.
“You’re staying up here and off that foot. It’s swollen.”
“It’s just a little sprain. I must’ve twisted it when I fell.”
“You mean when you were knocked down by a tree.”
“A branch. An itty-bitty limb,” she said, downplaying the moment. “Not a tree.”
“You’re hurt. Stay up here and off that foot, and let me take care of you so I don’t spend every minute worrying if you’re okay.”
She blinked at his words, and he shifted uncomfortably. Maybe he’d revealed a little too much, but it was true. “I think my heart stopped when I heard you scream and saw you under the tree.”
“Just a limb,” she whispered.
“Fine. A limb. But are you really going to make me worry about you all night when you could be tucked on the couch with me waiting on you hand and foot?”
“Well, when you put it that way…”
He caught her slight smile before she set her lips into a firm line and stared at him.
“Aren’t you afraid I’ll run off with the silver?”
So she’d noticed he’d locked the entry to his part of the house.
He didn’t wish her pain, but he’d kind of hoped she’d been out of it enough to not be aware of the locked door as he’d carried her up.
“Force of habit,” he said by way of excuse.
“You need anything I have that badly, it’s yours to take. ”
He told himself he just felt guilty that she’d gotten hurt. She’d been trying to help him take care of a neighbor’s property of all things. Not even something her temporary job would’ve required of her.
“Gage…”
“Sloane,” he said, matching her tone. “Look, I can tell you don’t like storms and this one?
It’s gonna get a lot worse. Why go downstairs and freak out over every sound when we can blast the TV until the electricity goes out, make something good to eat, and play a mean game of Scrabble or Monopoly? ”
She blinked at him, those big green eyes of hers drawing him like a tsunami sucking him out to sea. “Fine. That does sound better, but I warn you, boss or not, I play to win.”
He chuckled and began gathering up the paper packaging of her bandages. “I do too. That just means it’s game on.”
Hours later, they stared at an impressively well-matched board.
While he’d been the first to conquer real estate, she’d snatched up all the utilities and enough property of her own to keep things interesting.
They’d maximized every advantage and were as close to even in the game as they could be, given their cash values.
The hurricane had made landfall just south of Carolina Cove.
Not a direct hit, but they were still getting plenty of action.
Gage was aware of how Sloane grew leerier and more frightened of the chaos outside.
Every lash of the wind and rain against the shuttered windows brought a flinch or a wince or some reaction from her. “Let’s call it a draw.”
“A draw? You’re giving up?” Sloane widened her eyes in exaggerated surprise.
“We haven’t made any progress in an hour. Cashed out, we’re even. So yeah, I think it’s a draw.”
“But if you’re giving up, I win,” she countered.
He narrowed his gaze on her, liking her competitive spirit. “Or we call it a draw.” Because let’s face it, he didn’t like losing any more than any other guy.
She tapped a bare fingernail against her plush lips, drawing his gaze. The moment his eyes locked on her lips, however, she stopped, lowered her hand and nodded a bit awkwardly.
“Fine. It’s a draw. But my top hat claims victory because it considers a draw a win.”
A chuckle left his chest, and he shoved himself to his feet.
The hurricane continued outside, and the electric had flickered for the last thirty minutes.
It would go out soon, just like it always did.
He’d retrieved candles and battery-operated lanterns to have at the ready before starting the game.
“Fine but that means you ice that ankle again. You want a snack while we decide on our next game? Popcorn?”
“Yeah, thanks. That sounds good.”
He retrieved a bag of peas from the freezer and tossed it to her for her pillow-propped foot and then shoved a bag of popcorn into the microwave and turned it on, hoping the power didn’t go out before it finished.
A strong gust of wind combined with the rolling thunder and crack of lightning left Sloane gasping and flinching. He noted the way she curled in on herself, and his gut clenched at the sight of her fear.
The microwave beeped its completion, and he retrieved the bag and dumped it into a large bowl before carrying it with him, trying to appear calm and unbothered by the increasing storm outside.
Instead of returning to where he’d sat across from her, though, he ambled over and sat on the floor beside Sloane, shoulder to shoulder. He could feel her trembling. “You’re safe.”
She laughed, but the sound lacked any hint of humor. “Maybe, but from the sound of that wind, I’d say there are a few sharks out there now.”
He smiled at their earlier Sharknado reference and held the bowl out for her to dig in. “Eat. We’ll play a new game.”
Sloane plucked a few pieces from the bowl and munched. “What game?”
He resettled to get a bit more comfortable. “My sister likes to play one called Two Truths and a Lie.” She stiffened a bit against him, but he ignored the tell and went on. “What? If we’re stuck here together, we might as well make it interesting. I’ll go first.”
“Wait. Is this going to end in a draw again? Because if I win, I want a prize.”
Digging into the bowl, he smirked and tossed a few pieces of popcorn into his mouth to chew as he thought of what he’d like to get for his win. “What do you want?”
“If I win, you make Cole let me play whatever music I want in the rentals building during work for…a week. No, until I leave town,” she quickly countered. “While I like some of the old-school heavy metal, all day, every day is starting to drive me up a wall.”
Gage laughed hard at that, because it was a complaint all the brothers had made at some point regarding Cole’s music choices. “Deal.”
“Not so fast. What do you want? Not that you’re going to win. Because you won’t,” she stressed, side-eyeing him. “But just to be fair, name your prize.”
Since he couldn’t really name a kiss, he forced himself to reevaluate. “You tell me one thing about yourself that no one else knows. Something you’ve never told anyone.”
She didn’t seem to like his response, but she also didn’t hesitate.
“Fine. One secret.”
“You any good at lying?”
This time, the smile that touched her lips left him taking a closer look due to the derision he saw in it.
“I come from a family of professional liars,” she murmured in a droll tone, not looking at him but at the TV they’d turned off because of the electric continuously flickering. “It’s in my blood.”
The way she said it… “Sounds like I need to be on my toes then.”
“Hey, you’re the one forcing Cole to accept a week of boy bands and Taylor Swift.”
He grinned, determined to lose if for no other reason than torturing Cole. “Game on, sweetheart. I’ll go first.”
“Flip you for it.”
He shook his head at her competitiveness and dug into a pocket to get a coin. “Heads or tails?”
“Heads.”
He flipped it in the air, caught it and slapped it down on his wrist, revealing the winner. “You lose.”
She released a low grunt of complaint just as the electricity went off—and stayed off. He stretched out his hands onto the coffee table in front of them and pressed the button to turn on the battery-operated lantern, casting the room in a soft, hazy glow.
“I,” he began, “once got kicked out of a bar for arm-wrestling the bartender. I have an irrational fear and hatred of pickles. And I can juggle.”
Sloane studied him hard as she pondered his words, her teeth sinking into her lower lip on the opposite side of the cut.
He had to force his gaze back up and keep it there while he waited on her response.
“I can’t see you juggling. That’s the lie.”
“Wrong,” he said. “I’m great at juggling. I taught myself for fun when I was a kid. And I love pickles. Hating them is my lie because I could eat them every day.”
“So you got kicked out of a bar?”
“In my defense, the bartender started it.”
“You’ve got to tell me the full story now.”
He inhaled as he rubbed a hand over his face. “A few friends and I got the bright idea to sneak into one of the bars here before we were of age. The problem came when I tried to get us drinks.”
“Wait, was one of these friends a girl?”
“Maybe.”
“Of course,” Sloane said with a snicker. “You were trying to impress her. Keep going.”
“Well, the bartender was a big burly guy, former Navy SEAL. And he saw right through us. So since I figured we had nothing to lose and were about to get kicked out, I challenged him to arm wrestle. If I won, we got to stay.”
“And you didn’t win.”
Gage laughed again, the memory one of good times. “He took me down in a second flat. Then grabbed me by the scruff and kicked us all out and threatened to call Alec if I ever tried anything like that again.”
“I love that he knew your brother.”
Gage grunted. “Yeah, small towns are like that. There are eyes and ears everywhere. Any trouble we got into made it back to Alec before we did. He was always there, waiting to take us to task. Now fess up. Two truths and a lie.”
Sloane tapped her fingers against her knee below the shorts he’d loaned her and slowly inhaled.
“I stole a car once. I can recite every line of The Princess Bride by heart. And once upon a time, I wanted to be a chef.”
Gage squinted at her as he went over her words. “You said that last one a little too casually. That’s a truth.”
Sloane arched one eyebrow high. “Is it?”
“Has to be. I don’t see little Merida stealing a car. That’s the lie.”
“Mmm, wrong. I’m full of secret talents,” she drawled.
Her throaty voice locked up his entire body despite his intent to stay professional.
“I stole my brother’s car when I was sixteen and grounded, drove it all the way into the city with my friends for a party. It was hours before he realized and tracked us down.”
A rough chuckle left his chest, and he knew the grin he wore held more than a bit of pride and amusement. “Okay, that was not what I expected.” He couldn’t seem to take his eyes off her. “You are far more dangerous than you look, aren’t you, Merida?”