“You can use one of your sticks to help, but only one,” I quickly added.
When I glanced over at Hudson, he gave me a wide smile.
“What happens if we accidentally bump a stick?” my mother asked.
Kyle gave her a look. “You lose your turn.”
“Even if we weren’t trying to pick up a stick?” she asked.
With a huff of frustration, Kyle pinned our mother with a hard stare. “Mom, you moved that stick on your turn. When are you going to let it go?”
Mom folded her arms over her chest and huffed. “I bumped it by accident.”
Hudson looked between my mother and Kyle and fought to keep a straight face. When he caught my eye, he lifted his brows in question. I shook my head and mouthed later.
“Let’s get this game going. How much is each color worth?” Bishop asked.
“I already said,” Kyle stated.
“No, you said the points. I thought we were playing for money?”
“Money! You kids bet on this?” my father asked, seeming a bit more interested in the game now.
Mom quickly stood. “Oh dear, let me go up to my room and get my bingo stash.”
“Grab my poker money bag, sweetheart.” Dad stood. “I’ll get the poker chips.”
When I chanced another look at Hudson, his mouth had dropped open in surprise, and it was my turn to try not to laugh.
“You got money on you, Higgins?” Bishop asked.
Hudson glanced around the table, confused. “Um, I have some money on me, yeah.”
“Hundred bucks to get in.”
“A hundred!” I nearly shouted. “Last time it was fifty, Bishop.”
He gave a half shrug. “Inflation, Greer. Inflation.”
I rolled my eyes and got up to grab my purse. It didn’t take me long to realize Hudson was right behind me.
“Wait, are we really betting on a game of pick-up sticks?” He watched me pull twenties out of my wallet.
“Yep.”
When he stood there and just stared at me, I asked, “Did you need to borrow some money?”
“What? No!” he said with a quick shake of his head. “I guess I’m just a little shocked that we’re betting on…pick-up sticks.”
“I guess I should probably warn you now, we bet on everything when it comes to games.”
“Everything?”
I nodded. “You should see what happens when we play Go Fish.”
The look on Hudson’s face nearly had me cracking up.
“So, you in?” I asked.
His eyes darted back toward the dining room before his brows pulled in slightly and he reached into his back pocket for his wallet. As he pulled out the money, he said, “I better stop at the ATM before next Sunday’s dinner.”
I pressed my lips together in a tight line and nodded as we made our way back into the dining room. A strange warmth in my chest had me drawing in a slow breath. If my heart kept reacting this way about Hudson, I could see myself falling madly in love with him in no time.
“Shh…don’t make a sound,” my mother whispered while Hudson drew in a long, slow breath and flexed his fingers over the last two remaining sticks.
“Who are you rooting for, Mom?” Kyle asked.
With a wave of her hands, my mother dismissed my brother and silently urged Hudson on.
His dark brown eyes lifted to meet my gaze, and he gave me a lazy, dimpled smile that nearly melted me on the spot. I just wanted this damn game finished, so we could go back to my place.
I gave Hudson an encouraging head bob, and he focused back on the two remaining sticks. One black. One blue.
“You’ve got this, dude,” Bishop said softly as Kyle shot him a dirty look.
Hudson used one of his sticks to gently lift the black stick off the blue. Loud cheers erupted when he held it up in triumph.
Kyle scowled at him, leaned back in his chair, and folded his arms over his chest. “You won this time, Higgins, but just wait. Next week, it’s slapjack.”
“Oh, fuck yeah, I love slapjack!” Bishop said.
Mom gave him a look. “Language, Bishop Harris.”
With a slight blush to his cheeks, Bishop nodded. “Sorry, Mrs. Larson.”
I stood, nearly knocking my chair over. “Great, the game is done. And now we have to be leaving.”
All eyes swung over and looked at me.
“Why the rush, sis?” Kyle asked with a smug look on his face.
“Hudson needs to be up early to work on his book, and I’m exhausted. It’s been a long weekend.”
“But we haven’t even sung happy birthday to you and Kyle yet or eaten cupcakes!” my mother complained.
“Leave the girl be, Karen,” Dad said. “You heard her—Hudson needs to work, and she’s tired.”
I wasn’t sure if my father was on my side because he merely wanted to get back to football—or if he really believed my lame excuses.
“Let me at least pack up some cupcakes for you, sweetheart,” my mom said. “I got your favorite from Boggy Creek Bakery.”