“I’ll go easy on you,” Adrian promises.
Instead of appeasing her, that fires her up. “No, you will not,” she says, shaking her finger at him.
“We’re gonna beat you fair and square,” I add. Total bullshit, but I say it anyway.
Maria nods in vigorous agreement.
Grimacing and scratching his jaw, Adrian says, “If I let you combine your scores against me, maybe.”
I shake my head, dumping the letters out on the table. “Keep talking shit, Palmetto. I’m going to start reading the dictionary in my downtime to train for times like these.”
“Do whatever you need to do,” he says, with exaggerated confidence. “I’ll still beat your ass every time.”
—
True to his word, Adrian soundly trounces us.
“Rematch!” I call.
“No, no, no.” Maria stands, waving me off.
“Come on, one more. We can beat him this time.”
Adrian smirks, grabbing a nacho and scooping up some salsa. He pops it into his mouth and shakes his head at me. “Keep dreaming.”
“Maria, come back.”
Maria shakes her head, bidding us good night. I guess I understand. She has to be up early in the morning, but I’m not ready to go back to the bedroom alone.
Sighing, my gaze drifts back to the board. A bit glumly, I start to put away the pieces.
“Go ahead and set it up one more time,” Adrian says.
I brighten. “Really?”
He nods his head. “I’ve still got all these chips to eat.”
“You’re the best,” I tell him, flashing him a smile. I put away Maria’s tray, but I push Adrian’s back over to him. When he reaches for it, I notice his knuckles are all busted up. “What happened to your hands?”
He cocks an eyebrow at my stupid question. “Knitting accident.”
I smile, cupping my hand over his tiles and moving them over in front of him. “I hope you were at least making something good.”
“You think I’d waste my time knitting something that’s not good?”
Since he clearly was not knitting, I ask, “What made you want to work for Mateo in the first place?”
He glances up at me, apparently surprised by the question.
I shrug. “I’ve never asked. I’m curious about you.”
“I didn’t want to. Got myself in a bad situation, met Elise, he offered me her freedom in exchange for five years of service… the rest is history.”
“Well, she’s really lucky. You’re a great guy.”
Adrian shakes his head, taking a sip of the beer he grabbed out of the fridge while Maria and I had our tea. “You’ve gotta stop that.”
“Stop what? Complimenting you?”
Adrian rolls his eyes at me. “What’d he do tonight?”
“I was not flirting with you,” I state, eyebrows rising. “Now you’re getting cocky. I wasn’t admiring your shoulders, I was just acknowledging that you’re a great guy and your wife is lucky. What’s so wrong with that?”
“My wife is crazy, and so is your husband, so it’s in your best interest to stop.”
“I wasn’t doing anything,” I mutter, a bit sulkily.
Nodding at the board, he says, “You can go first.”
I study my letters, then I put AFFIX on the board.
Adrian nods his head, grabbing the pen and recording my score. “Respectable.”
I’m feeling pretty proud of myself, so I talk some smack. “I’m gonna beat you this time. I can feel it in the air.”
Still smiling faintly, he puts some letters down. I expect him to make a bigger play, but he just spells out FORCE. Initially, I think he just has crappy letters, but a few turns later, he’s still making insignificant plays and missing strategic placement.
“Adrian Palmetto, you’re letting me win!”
As innocent as can be, he leans back in his chair. “What?”
“You wasted your triple letter score with an L. You’re gonna have to be a lot more subtle than that, buddy.”
“Maybe my brain’s just tired,” he suggests.
I point my finger at him, narrowing my eyes. “You better stop letting me win. How am I ever supposed to beat you for real if you throw the game?”
“You’re never going to beat me for real,” he states. “You’re almost as bad at this game as Elise. It’s sad.”
I grab a tortilla chip out of the bowl and throw it at him. He grins, picks it up, and scoops up some salsa, holding my gaze and eating it with relish.
I can’t help grinning at him across the table. Fondness for him is flooding me right now, so I feel the urge to share. “I know you don’t have a lot of competition, but you’re definitely my best friend tonight.”
“Best friend by default is kind of my thing.” Tipping back his beer, he takes a drink before asking, “Not feeling Meg tonight?”
Now I wrinkle up my nose, shaking my head. “No. She’s busy being Mateo’s friend tonight, apparently.”
“Is that right?” he asks levelly. His beer bottle thuds on the tabletop, but he sits up a little straighter. He’s been easy-going up until now, clearly off-duty, but I sense a shift in his posture now.