The Orange Cat and Other Cainsville Tales (Cainsville 3.5)

"I would like to do this for you, Olivia." His voice had softened, tone almost apologetic. "If you had a fae encounter, I would feel better knowing it is indeed some harmless variety, unlikely to come after either of you."

Damn. Gabriel was so much easier to deal with when he acted like he didn't give a shit.

"Can I e-mail you the details later?" I said. "I still haven't told Ricky everything, and I really should."

"Of course. Speak to him. Get any additional details he might have and then e-mail me tonight."

I signed off. When I walked back to the table, there was a fresh glass of beer in my spot, along with a shot of rye whiskey. Ricky picked up the shot glass and waggled it over the beer.

I smiled. "I don't think I've done that since college."

"Well, I'm still in college. The perils of dating a younger man." He dropped the shot glass into the beer, and foam shot up.

I took a gulp. "Whoa. You aren't trying to get me drunk, are you?"

"I am absolutely trying to get you drunk."

"Drunk enough to forget I'm trying to win a certain game?"

"Yep." He leaned back in his chair and took a hit from his beer bottle. "And, on that note, I've decided we need stakes. There should be a penalty for the loser."

"Mmm. I don't know. I hate to penalize you."

"Oh, not me. I refused a free exception, remember? I'm not the one going down."

"No, I believe I was."

He chuckled. "True, but the point is that I exercised a serious feat of restraint. I will win this game, and when you concede, there is a price to be paid." He handed me a folded scrap of paper. "The penalty. In writing. Just so there's no mistake or misunderstanding. This is what will happen when you say 'forfeit.'"

I unfolded the paper and read what he'd written.

"This--" I sputtered. "This isn't a penalty. It's a bribe."

"That's open to interpretation."

"Interpretation?" I waved the paper. "If I surrender, you'll--"

"--have to punish you."

"Punish me? I don't see spanking on this list, Ricky."

"Well, that's not usually your thing, but sure, pass it over, and I'll add that on."

I folded the paper and put it into my pocket. "Oh, no. Two can play this game."

I took the notepad and pen from my bag.

Five minutes later, Ricky said, "Are you writing a novel?"

"Just one scene. One very detailed scene. Of what you will get when you concede defeat."

"Fuck."

"Naturally, but that's at the end. I'm nowhere near the end."

I kept writing until I'd finished my drink . . . and filled both sides of the page. Then I handed it to him. He started reading. He kept reading.

Watching his expression was fun. Possibly even more fun than watching him with the water fae. Finally, he set the paper down and swore under his breath.