Page 17 of Hell Bent (Portland Devils #5)

PLAYING GAMES

Alix

It was about the silliest thing I’d done since childhood.

Running full-tilt around the table in my bare feet, knowing that Sebastian was right behind me and so determined not to let him catch up, then seeing the ball streaking over the net—these guys hit hard— and doing my best to smack it back in mid-flight.

Somebody missing, and a mad scramble to find the ball and put it back in motion again.

Feet flying, laughing so hard it was difficult to focus.

Sebastian nearly running into me when I screeched to a stop to return a tricky ball smacked to the edge of the table, grabbing my waist with both hands even as I hit the ball, then spinning in a complete circle, lifting me straight off the ground, saying “sorry” as he let go of me to take the paddle and hit his own ball, and I was running again.

That ball had been hit by Harlan, who was a devious and weirdly competitive ping-pong player, unless he was hitting the ball to Jennifer.

Jennifer was out first, though, as she’d predicted, and went to grab a glass of water and sit next to her grandfather, fanning her flushed face.

I barely caught a glimpse of that, though, because I was still running.

Owen was the opposite. Unless he was sending the ball to Harlan or Sebastian, he lobbed it over easy until Dyma said breathlessly, “Quit being polite and hit the thing, Owen!” To which he answered, “You want it hard? OK, then. You asked for it.”

Dyma gasped, “Oh, nice,” even as Harlan said, “I did not need to hear that.” Owen’s neck turned red, but all he did was, yes, send the ball across to Dyma the next time with so much spin on it, her return shot flipped it straight up into the air.

“That’s three on you,” he said. “And you’re out. Go sit down, little girl.”

“You’re such an evil winner,” she said, and went over to join her mom. “I’m rooting for the women now. Come on, Annabelle. Come on, Alix. Show them!”

We didn’t, of course. The fewer players out there, the faster we were running and the harder it got, until first I and then Annabelle were out, and it was three NFL players who seemed to have forgotten that there was no Super Bowl for ping-pong, battling it out like there’d be no tomorrow.

Faster and faster, Owen’s huge chest heaving like a bellows, until he couldn’t make it around the table in time to return Harlan’s cracking shot to the far corner, just over the net.

He lunged over the table, fell on top of it, went for the ball, and …

The table collapsed under his three hundred-plus pounds, and Owen went down with it to the accompaniment of shouts and shrieks and a deafening crash .

Owen was still sprawled across the remains, Harlan was laughing his head off, and Sebastian was saying, “You all right, man?” and offering his hand, but unable to suppress his own smile.

“What the hell,” Harlan said as Owen stood up, wincing. “You don’t lead with your groin. ”

“Maybe you don’t,” Owen said, and grinned. “Ouch.” He surveyed the table. “Looks like I owe you a new one of these.”

“Totally worth it,” Dyma said. “That was awesome.”

“Hey,” Owen said.

“No,” she said. “See, you showed how determined you are. How nothing can stop you. It was actually really hot.”

He said, “I’m unconvinced,” and everybody laughed some more.

Sebastian said, “You know the worst thing about this? I don’t get a chance to beat Boy Wonder here. Got to be a way to take it past two and find a winner. You could have to hit the ball and spin around in place, maybe. That’d work.”

“In your dreams, you’re beating me,” Harlan said. “See, you’ve got explosive lower-body power, but I’ve got grace and wingspan and supreme aerobic fitness.”

“Nobody likes a bragger,” Dyma said.

“That’s not bragging,” Sebastian said. “That’s trash talk. Kickers never get to hear trash talk. Look how privileged I am. And that’s a rematch,” he told Harlan. “Get that new table, and you and I are going again. Twenty bucks says I can beat you.”

“You haven’t even paid me for the last bet,” Harlan said. “Deadbeat.”

Sebastian pulled his wallet out of his back pocket, extracted some bills, and handed them over. “Consider yourself challenged.”

Jennifer said, “What bet? Have I married a problem gambler? I’d better set up Nicky’s college fund fast.”

“Nope,” Harlan said. “It was personal.”

“What?” Dyma asked.

“Uh …” Harlan said, and looked, for some reason, at me.

“Wait,” I said. “What is this bet?” I wasn’t laughing anymore .

Harlan rubbed his nose, and Sebastian said, “Kinda embarrassing to explain.”

“Now I really need to know,” I said. I had my hands on my hips, too.

Sebastian sighed. “Here you go, then. I told Harlan I was wearing jeans to this thing, and he thought it was because you’d said you were wearing jeans. Which, OK, it was.”

“Oh, I get it,” Dyma said. “This was Harlan’s patented understanding of women.”

“I guess,” Sebastian said, and turned a laughing and slightly apprehensive gaze on me. “He said you wouldn’t actually wear jeans. Bet me fifty bucks. I thought you’d be—” He stopped.

“What?” I asked.

“Uh …” he said.

“Oh,” I realized. “You thought I’d be making a point, continuing to plumb the depths of unattractiveness because … Why would I be doing that? I’m stuck here.”

Harlan said, “I rest my case.”

Dyma said, “Of course she’s not going to go out with you looking bad! Excuse me? Why are men so dumb?”

“Hey,” Owen said.

“Well, you are,” she said. “I practically had to tie you down to get you to have sex with me.”

“That is information,” Harlan said, “that Jennifer and I do not need. Scrubbing my brain now.”

I was laughing again, and somehow, I had my arm around Sebastian’s side and was reaching up to kiss his cheek.

Three and a half inches of heel lets you do that.

His arm went around me like a reflex action and tightened there, and I smiled into his eyes and said, “That’s our cue to leave, because I have to be at work at seven tomorrow. Now I want a ping-pong table, though. ”

“You should get one,” Dyma said. “They’re not expensive, and you can even buy outdoor ones.”

“Except that I live at a KOA,” I said, reckless with the truth now. “In a travel trailer. Free and easy down the road I go.” I smoothed my hair. “Merry Christmas, everybody. That was awesome.”

Sebastian

Back in my car again, Alix beside me, talking about the evening.

Her hand in her hair as she laughed about Owen breaking the table, and I sure wanted not to be driving this car so I could look at her.

Could touch her, too. She looked even better now that she was a little messed up, and I wanted to feel that heat for myself.

But “Free and easy down the road I go”? The same thing I’d thought not two weeks ago. Somehow, it didn’t sound quite as good coming from her.

Which was when she reached out, touched my hand on the steering wheel, and said, “This was such a good night. I know I’ve made the right decision giving myself this break, but I thought Christmas was going to be hard, and it wasn’t. Because of you.”

I turned my hand to hold hers, and she left it there a moment, then pulled it away and said, “I’d better let the driver drive.” A little breathless, the same way she’d been when I’d phoned to let her know I was there to pick her up.

“You do now,” I said, “but we don’t have to end our night right here.”

“I’m not sleeping with you.” And there was the tension again, like she was warring with herself. I might know how she felt, because my body was saying, Let’s go, boy, even as my mind said, You’re going to have to take it slow. .

“You don’t have to sleep with me to spend time with me,” I said, setting that aside. “We just need to figure out where we can go that’s open on Christmas.”

“Out here in the middle of nowhere,” she said. Which wasn’t a “no,” was it?

I took the next exit, and she said, “What? Sebastian …”

“Looking,” I said, and pulled out my phone. It took a minute or two, and I was driving again, getting back on the freeway.

She said, “Did you find something?”

“I sure did. And it’s right across the river from you.”

“I really should go to bed by ten.”

“As a ‘no,’” I said, “that’s too weak for me to tell if you mean it. I need clarification.”

“Wow, you’re direct,” she said.

“I’m Canadian, that’s why.”

“You are?” Diverted, now. “You never told me that.”

“You never asked.”

“Anyway,” she said, “are Canadians known for their bluntness? More the opposite, from what I’ve heard.”

“It’s just me, then,” I said, taking the Cascade Locks exit. “Time to tell me if you want to go sit in front of a fire and drink a glass of something with some sweet, hot bite to it, or if you want me to drive you home right now and maybe kiss you goodbye.”

“Is it a choice?” she asked.

Once more, I was pulling over. “You bet it’s a choice. Your choice.”

“I mean,” she said, “if we go have a drink, I can’t kiss you goodbye?”

“You can kiss me,” I said, “anytime you like. That’s a promise.”

“Mm.” Some tease in her eyes, I was sure, though it was too dark to see. I wanted to kiss her here and now. I wanted to do more than that, but I needed to tread carefully here. “Then I want to go have a drink,” she said. “Please. Because I want more time with you. Just you.”

I let go of my breath, put the car in gear, and headed over the bridge.

I was going to wow this girl if it killed me.