Chapter 15
CAROLINE
“You’ve played before, right?” Miles sets down the cup of tokens on the edge of the air hockey table.
The arcade is a cacophony of bleeps, cheers, and chatter. A huge neon sign on the wall reads Pinball Wizard and casts the entire space in a pinkish glow.
“Um,” I hedge, tucking my hands into the front pockets of my jeans. “No, actually.”
“You serious?” His eyes widen. “You’ve been missing out. Here.” He passes me one of the two plastic disc things and sets up across the table from me, slotting a few tokens into place until a whirring fan noise kicks into gear.
“What are the rules? Is there a technique, or…?” I try a few experimental strokes with the felt-bottomed disc, hovering my free palm over the table. Cool air blows up through the tiny holes dotting the surface.
“Not a lot to it. You try to score on me; I try to score on you. Pretty straightforward.” Miles flips the thin plastic puck in midair and catches it, pinning me with a cocky grin before tossing it down on the table.
It drifts slowly to one side, carried on the air like a tiny hovercraft.
He leans forward. “But you gotta be fast.”
“Okay?” I try for a brave smile.
“Just remember to protect your goal.” He braces his arms wide on his end of the table, his corded muscles flickering with tension. “You’ll get the hang of it. Trust me.”
Trust me.
Images of locking pinkies with Miles in the car on the way to the fundraiser drift back into my mind and I bite my lip.
It’s hard to believe the man in the backward ball cap standing across from me is the same one who donned that tuxedo two weeks ago—though he pulls off casual every bit as well as the tux.
Who am I kidding? He’d make a paper sack look good.
“Caroline!” Olena calls from nearby, drawing my attention away from Miles’ body. “Kick his ass for me!”
“I’ll try my best!” I call back with a shrug. “Any pointers?”
Olena cups a hand beside her mouth, pumping her eyebrows. “Distract him!”
“Hey!” Miles shouts over to her. “Interference much? Whose side are you on here, anyway?”
“Hers, obviously!” Olena calls back, screwing up her face. “Hos before bros! Plus, if she doesn’t beat you, I will!”
Miles had told me about his friendly rivalry with Olena on the drive over here.
I liked her the moment we met up with her and Jude out front of the arcade. Maybe it was the two pairs of sunglasses in her hair, or maybe it was the way she hugged me without thinking twice, but there’s something warm and real about her that put me at ease right away.
Jude has been harder to get a read on. While Miles has the enthusiasm of a golden retriever, Jude’s vibe is more guarded.
Is German shepherd energy a thing? I guess I can’t blame him for being protective of his little brother, knowing what they’ve been through together.
And this arrangement between me and Miles is unusual, by anyone’s standards.
Despite Jude’s objections about driving so much for work, Olena convinces him to play a racing game with her. He casts an uneasy glance our way before letting her drag him off.
“You ready?” Miles asks. At my nod, he taps the puck into play, his first strike clearly somewhat restrained on my account.
“You don’t need to take it easy on me, y’know.” As we knock the puck back and forth, I start to get a feel for it and give it a bit more gas. “I’m not some delicate flower.”
“Oh, okay,” he says. “She’s wearing her sassy pants today.” To his credit, though, he picks up the pace and I catch a competitive set to his jaw when I risk a quick look up.
Not backing down, I take a hard swipe at the puck, and he rushes to block the shot, narrowly deflecting it at the last second.
“Shit, and she’s a quick learner.”
The awkward save sends the puck skittering sideways, bouncing back and forth across the center line. I lean forward, straining to make contact, but it’s just out of reach of my clumsy swipes. “Dang it. I can’t get it.”
I’m practically climbing the table when Miles leans forward, his longer limbs giving him the advantage. He easily reaches the puck and sends it whooshing right under my stomach and straight into my goal. I raise my head, mouth agape. “What? Rude!”
“Hey!” He holds up his hands, tongue pressed into his cheek. “I told you to protect your goal.”
I crawl back off the table, straightening my loose-fitting button-up shirt. “But I was in a compromising position!”
“Just how I like you.” He smirks. “Oh, and uh… Nice boobs.”
On reflex, I clutch my shirt to my chest. I shake my head, though I can’t help the way my cheeks heat at his words. Remembering last night, I raise an eyebrow, holding his gaze in challenge. “You better watch it, sir.”
His jaw clenches so hard, I wouldn’t be surprised if he cracked a tooth.
If he’s gonna say blatantly suggestive things to me, he’s gonna get a taste of his own medicine.
I can barely hear him over the din of the arcade, but I’m pretty sure I catch him muttering something that sounds an awful lot like “bratty fucking girl”.
Feeling satisfied, I toss the puck across the table. He traps it in place with his disc, giving me a long, heated look.
The rest of our game whips by in a haze of flirtation—punctuated by the occasional booty-shaking victory dance from Miles and eye roll from me. The score is tied at nine when Jude and Olena appear at the side of the table.
“Ooh, tie game!” she croons, wandering over to my end. “Come on, Caroline,” she lowers her voice to a comical growl, “finish him.”
I laugh, my amusement fading to something like a dazed appreciation when Miles pulls off his hat to smooth his hair before replacing it—the right way around this time.
The few wisps stick out at his nape, reminding me of how it felt to run my fingers through it last night as he coaxed me over the edge time and time again—until I was shaking and spent, sure I couldn’t take more.
God, he was right about that whole so-good-you-think-you-might-die thing.
It was everything I never knew sex could be.
He was incredible. We were incredible. And, as much as it was hands-down the best sex of my life—as foreign as it was for me to come that often and that hard—what truly shocked me was how comfortable it had been.
How easily I’d welcomed the idea of falling asleep in his arms. Sure, I couldn’t exactly walk by that point, but there was something more than shaky legs keeping me in his bed.
I snap back to the present when I realize Olena’s talking to me. “Sorry, what? Zoned out there for a sec.”
“Oh, trust me, I get it.” She waves me off, then drops her voice to a volume only I can hear. “But if you’re gonna win this, you’ve gotta distract him and not the other way around.”
“Yeah, but I don’t really know how.”
“I’d suggest unbuttoning your top, but that’s too obvious.” She twists her lips in thought. “Take down your hair?” Then, frowning to herself: “God, why am I such a horndog right now? I must be ovulating.”
“I guess I could frighten him to distraction,” I muse, knowing my curly hair would probably look more like a lion’s mane than anything sexy if I took it down.
“What are you two yappin’ about over there?” Jude calls over, crossing his arms over his chest with a smirk. “You gonna finish this game or what?”
I cast a glance at Olena. “Guess I’ll have to win this the old-fashioned way: brute force.”
“Hell yes! For feminism!” Beaming, she holds out a hand and we bump fists. Then she winds back around the table to whisper something in Jude’s ear that makes him straighten and clear his throat.
I flick my gaze back to Miles, who’s watching me intently.
“Good to go?” He raises a brow.
“Yes, sir.” My tone is innocent enough that no one would catch the flirtation in my voice, but the way he breaks eye contact and blows out a long exhale tells me I hit my mark once again. I grin. Poking holes in his composure might be my new favorite thing.
Seconds later, when I sink the puck in his goal, he gives me a rueful look as Olena rushes over for a congratulatory high five.
“You hungry?” Jude wraps his arms around Olena’s waist from behind, kissing her temple.
“Ugh, yes,” she admits. “But I left my purse in the truck.”
“Here,” Jude says, digging out his wallet to hand her some cash. “Go grab something before you get hangry on me.”
“I’ll come with you.” Miles lifts his chin at Olena. “I didn’t eat enough dinner.”
“The two of you, man,” Jude says.
Miles passes me the cup of tokens. “You want anything?”
“No, I’m good.”
Olena and Miles head off to buy snacks, leaving me alone with Jude.
He crosses his arms over his chest as we watch the two of them cut a winding path through the arcade.
When they stop to mess with the claw machine, he calls out, “Hey!” They turn, and Jude mimes eating something, setting them back on task.
He shakes his head, muttering to himself, “Like herding cats.”
There’s no doubt Miles and his older brother are related. Jude looks like a green-eyed version of Miles, but with the beard factor cranked up a couple notches. The brawn factor, too; his grip almost crushed my hand when he shook it earlier.
“Hey, listen,” he starts, keeping his voice down. “I know this thing with you and Miles is all for show…”
“Yeah?” I can’t help but glance over my shoulder, nervous that someone might be listening.
“But I’ll be honest. I’m glad he’s been hanging out with you lately. Getting out more.” At my curious expression, he goes on. “He’s been lying pretty low for a while now. He needs some decent friends in his life so he can branch out a little.”
“Decent, huh? Should I be flattered, or—?” I smirk, trying to keep it light despite my unease.
He huffs a laugh. “Poor choice of words. I mean people who’ll keep him on the right track. Not drag him into trouble, y’know?”
“Yeah, I wouldn’t…” I trail off, not quite sure what to say. Trouble feels like a loaded term.
Am I dragging him into trouble?