Chapter 13
“Louder for the people in the back,” Mrs. Hastings yelled from the last row.
“Turn your hearing aids up, Hattie,” Mr. Webb suggested.
“Or stop sitting at the farthest table from the bingo caller,” Ms. Johansson said.
Mrs. Hastings set down her purple bingo dauber and flipped the room a double bird. “I turned the volume up as high as it will go, and I will plant my ass wherever the hell I want to sit. I’m old, fat, and gassy. Be glad I sat so far away.”
“Add self-aware to the mix,” Mr. Bauer snarked just loud enough for me to hear him at the caller table.
I needed to put an end to the bickering before it got out of control. WWCD. What would Cammy do? She’d repeat the stupid bingo number and raise her voice to prevent a similar argument from breaking out.
“I-25,” I bellowed.
Mr. Bauer in the front row grimaced, so maybe I’d gone too much in the other direction. Mrs. Hastings picked up her dauber and aggressively tagged her bingo card before giving me a thumbs-up.
I reached into the tumbler and pulled out the next ball. “B-12.”
“Oh. Reminds me I still need a shot,” Mr. Ivans said.
“Bingo!” Mr. Macklin shouted.
The room groaned collectively because Sid Macklin cried wolf a lot.
I wasn’t sure if it was orneriness or if he wasn’t fully cognizant of what we were doing.
I was supposed to stop the game and verify just in case because these residents were serious about their prizes.
But since I’d only called two numbers so far, achieving bingo was impossible.
I was about to stop the game just to appease him, but Mr. Macklin’s tablemate waved me off and informed Sid that he didn’t have a single match yet.
“Ignore it and call the next number,” Ms. Johansson prodded.
These folks were a tough crowd, and the endorphin buzz I got from lunch with Ray was fading quickly.
I tightened my grip around the bingo ball, wishing I could hold on to the happiness just as fiercely.
Hot damn, that kiss. Every future rain shower would remind me of Ray’s hot mouth against mine, the glide of his tongue, and the eagerness in his hands.
God, I loved the feel of Ray’s tight abs and muscular chest beneath my fingertips.
Heat rushed to my face as I recalled teasing and pinching his nipples.
I’d never behaved so boldly in my life. And I’d loved it.
Damn, I’d been ready to climb Ray like a tree, and I had no doubt he would’ve let me. He’d been as hot and horny as—
“Kit!” Mrs. Hastings yelled.
Jolting, I dropped the bingo ball in my hand onto the table, where it bounced and rolled onto the floor. I scrambled after it, snatching the ball before it disappeared under a front-row table. I held it up proudly and said, “B-12!”
“You already called that one,” Mr. Ivans snapped. “Pull yourself together, young man.”
Mr. Webb rolled his eyes heavenward and declared bingo a disaster. “We need the kid with the tire iron to liven things up.”
“It was a crowbar,” I reminded him. “And we certainly don’t need him to have fun.”
“How about we ask your hunky boyfriend to come in here and show us some tackling moves,” Mr. Ivans suggested. “We could call it self-defense classes. Surely that counts as an enrichment activity.”
I tried not to act like a giddy teenager just because Teddy Ivans had referred to Ray as my boyfriend.
“We’re not doing that. Ray has serious things to do.
” But I’d sure as hell offer myself up as the tackling dummy if Ray were giving lessons.
I set the B-12 ball in the rack with the other called number and rolled the tumbler a few times.
Pulling out the next ball, I cringed at the number. “O-69!”
“That was an exceptional year,” Mrs. Hastings yelled. “The cars, the music…”
“The sex position,” Ms. Johansson countered.
Mr. Macklin raised a fist in the air. “Bingo!”
The people in the front row pushed their cards away and prepared to get up from the table.
“Please don’t,” I said. “I’ll make this right.”
My promise received raised eyebrows and doubtful scowls, but no one abandoned ship.
My first task was to pull my head out of my ass.
Then I invited Mr. Macklin to be my assistant at the caller’s table instead of playing along.
He eagerly shuffled up and took a seat behind the tumbler.
While he turned the crank, I assessed the prizes.
After the many interruptions, the least I could do was hand everyone a little something.
My gaze landed on the stack of prize cards that Bobby had given me.
Each one featured Bobby’s contact info and offered the bearer a free twenty-minute massage.
Bobby had been generous with his time and spirit when he’d given them to Cammy, but he’d likely planned to stretch out the massages over a longer period.
I bit my lip to keep from laughing maniacally.
Bobby had been a downright shit lately, so I got even the best way I knew how.
“You get a massage. You get a massage. You get a massage,” I said, doing my best Oprah impersonation as I passed out the prizes.
“You’re not so bad, Kit,” Mrs. Hastings said.
“I like you too.”
Mrs. Hastings snorted and tucked her free massage card into her bra. “Don’t push your luck.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Back at the front of the room, Mr. Macklin reached into the tumbler and handed me a numbered ball. “Here you go, Kit.”
“Thank you.” I looked at the number and said, “N-32!”
Thankfully, the rest of our bingo time passed without a hitch, and I thought my luck was finally making a turn for the good.
My phone rang at two thirty, and my stomach flipped when I saw Cord McDonald’s name on the screen.
My super-sweet, sexy, and very straight gym friend had agreed to model for the afternoon’s life drawing class.
It was a new event I’d added to the calendar when Silver Maple hired me, and the enrollment surpassed my wildest dreams. The art room only had space for thirty easels, so I’d had to limit participation.
The event had filled up within ten minutes of the posting, and there was even a waiting list for cancelations.
Caitlyn promised to green-light more life drawing events if the first one went well.
So a phone call from Cord thirty minutes before class was due to start didn’t bode well for me.
I accepted the call and said, “Hello,” as casually as I could.
“Hey, Kit,” Cord rasped.
My self-pity instantly turned to concern. “What’s wrong? Are you hurt?”
“I got in a car accident earlier today. The downpour made the road slick, and someone rear-ended me at a traffic light. It seemed like a minor incident at the time, but I’m getting sorer and stiffer the longer the day wears on.
I’m afraid I won’t make it to the art class. I hate to let you down like this.”
“Don’t worry about me. I’m just sorry you got hurt. Are you getting checked out?”
“Sierra is taking me now,” he said. “I think the seat belt bruised my ribs, and I might have a touch of whiplash.”
“Any amount isn’t good. I hope you feel better soon.”
“I appreciate it,” Cody said. “Maybe we can work out a replacement date when I feel better.”
“That would be great. Take care of yourself, Cody.”
I disconnected the call and checked the time. Determination washed over me because failure wasn’t an option. I had something to prove to myself and Silver Maple. I just needed to find a replacement model in thirty minutes. And I knew exactly who I wanted to strip down for life drawing class.
Every encounter I’d had with Ray flitted through my mind, starting with his drenched clothes clinging to him like a second skin and ending with our lunchtime embrace under the oak tree.
Mmmm. I’d touched some of those muscles and felt them tremble beneath my fingertips.
Cord was a sexy man, but he didn’t hold a candle to Ray.
But would he model? There was no way Ray would strip down to his underwear and sit for two hours so the residents could draw charcoal portraits of him.
What about just shirtless? No way in hell he’d go for it.
He wore long sleeves in ninety-degree weather to avoid displaying his tattoos. I had to pivot.
Think, think, think.
Bobby was hot and had a rocking body, but I’d just passed out his free-massage cards like candy on Halloween night.
Those residents had probably already booked their freebies, and Bobby was likely furious with me.
Inspiration struck me like a bolt of lightning.
Ray might be on the modest side, but I knew at least one member of the security team who would be all too happy to strip down and soak up the attention.
I hauled ass to the security office and burst through the door like a shotgun blast. The space was small, so it only took two steps to reach the desk, where I leaned forward and braced my hands on the surface to catch my breath.
Ray leaped to his feet, his body and face going rigid in full-alert mode. “What’s wrong?”
“Need help,” I said between pants.
Rounding the desk, Ray laid his big, warm hand between my shoulders. “What happened, baby?”
The question hung there in the silence of the room while I panted and Ray panicked.
I didn’t need to see his face to know how he’d react to that little slip.
His hand tensed on my body before it gentled and rubbed circles on my back.
Had Ray meant the endearment? Hope was a dangerous thing, but I didn’t try to mask the emotion when I turned to face him.
Ray’s hand fell to my lower back, and he pulled me close.
Please, please, please mean it.
Ray cupped my cheek and said, “Tell me.”
Instead of pulling away and acting like a professional, I rubbed my face against his palm like a kitten with his office door hanging open. I should’ve been terrified about losing a job I desperately needed, and yet I let Ray’s warmth soothe me instead of stepping back. “I happened.”
Ray narrowed his eyes. “Explain.”
“I’m always the problem.”