Page 22

The Right Moves

W hile no one could have matched his excitement when it was time for him to head to Victoria’s home, there was someone who could do it in mirthfulness. Wearing a teasing smile that chased him around her home as he went through his morning routine, Tess made more than a few jokes about how “bright-eyed and bushy-tailed” he looked.

“You know,” he growled as he tied his shoes, “this is how everyone else says I look whenever I’m thinking about you.”

His remark led to Tess’s beaming smile, which led to a long delay in her entryway, which led to him being about ten minutes late to his first in-person chess lesson. Fortunately, given that he’d been punctual at all other times he’d visited Victoria’s home, she didn’t seem upset by his tardiness. Even still, he knew that he was stepping into her class, not just her home, and that it wouldn’t be a good idea to make a habit of being late.

Upon opening her door, nothing about how she looked at him would have implied that he’d received such a salacious picture from her the previous night. She still had that same remarkable, collected expression, that same timeless beauty, that same even-handed welcome for him as he entered her home.

Today, the temperatures had skimmed into the sixties, allowing Victoria to wear cutoff jeans, which displayed her long, toned legs. She complemented this selection with a loose-fitting shirt, which a front knot bound together right beneath her cleavage, which was also readily displayed thanks to the top’s deep V. With how much fabric went into that knot, it also allowed him to view plenty of her sides and stomach.

All in all, Liam was glad winter was finally moving away, to be replaced by a much more temperate spring.

“I’ve set up the board out back,” Victoria said, stopping him from removing his shoes. “It’s a nice day out.”

He could agree with that, and he walked behind Victoria, taking a few glimpses at her beguiling figure as she led him into her backyard. It was his first time doing more than looking at it through a window, as there’d been no real reason ever to visit. With that now changing, he swept his gaze across Victoria’s impressively large backyard.

About sixty percent of that backyard belonged to her swimming pool. Unfortunately, it was covered by a necessary tarp, as it hadn’t yet reached temperatures where anyone would consider removing it. On the other side of the smooth, white-colored granite pathways surrounding it, he saw a long stretch of dirt waiting for spring’s proper arrival. Yet even now, Victoria’s garden wasn’t completely barren. He didn’t know much about regular gardening, much less the variety of plants that could survive the winter, but some plants and bushes were buried in the soil on the far side of her pool.

“Right over here,” Victoria said, beckoning toward a patio table to their right. There, dead in the middle, sat a large chess set. Even from a distance, Liam could tell they were neither plastic nor wooden. As he got closer, he could tell they were metal. One set was coppery—maybe just copper—while the other was silver.

The pieces were also different than a usual board, with the pawns represented by Greek hoplites, the knights depicting properly mounted knights, the bishops some sort of high-ranking tactician, the queen a crowned woman with a flowing dress, and the king a crowned man with a cloak and scepter. Only the rooks stayed in their usual form, though they were likewise far more detailed than he was used to.

Likewise, the board had a lot of extra craftsmanship and detail. Curving legs raised it off the table, and it had filigree running along those, the corners, and the outsides of the board itself. Lastly, both sides of the board had pullouts, where each piece could be stored in its own little bed when a game wasn’t underway. Unique pieces, high-quality material, extra details—it had to be expensive.

“So, you really like chess too,” he noted as Victoria walked to one side of the board, then sat in a cushioned chair.

“Tess bought this for my birthday last year,” Victoria revealed. “I’m not sure which of us is happier whenever it gets brought out for one of our matches, so do with that information as you will.”

“So, a gift for she and me,” Liam chuckled, sitting down on the other side of the table.

“More or less,” Victoria said. “It’s used often, at least. Every time she comes over, she finds a reason for us to play.”

“Who usually wins?” he inquired, even though he’d already heard how things usually went.

“The person who purchases chess boards like this one,” Victoria said dryly. “She has her classic wooden set, which is actually more expensive than mine because it's walnut, but I can tell she’s hoping to get one like this—themed and all—as a gift at some point.”

“How much does a set like this usually cost?”

“A hundred to two hundred dollars. Some are exorbitantly more.”

Well, I guess you can’t put a price tag on happiness, Liam thought, admiring the board and its pieces slightly differently than before.

“Are you going to get her one?” he asked.

“Perhaps for her birthday in the coming summer. Her set is very nice, but I know she wants a metal or stone one. I’ve looked at a few, including one that was a metal and marble mix. The pieces aren’t themed like this one, though.”

Realizing she could simply show him, she plucked her phone out of her pocket. After a few seconds, she showed off a gorgeous chess set. One army was alabaster white, the other onyx black. Both had gold secondary colors. The board was pure marble, shiny enough to reflect every piece above it. The cost for this set came out to a hundred and eighty-five dollars.

“Want me to investigate what she might be interested in?” he offered.

“If you can, I would appreciate that.”

Promising that he would, in short order, their first match—in person, anyway—soon got underway. Virtual or real life, the result remained the same. He lost. Badly. Trounced, one might say. Victoria didn’t fool around, either. She was efficiently brutal, suffocatingly so. And Tess was better than her? Enough so that Tess felt comfortable proclaiming it?

I’m never going to get that prize, Liam thought. It’s dangled up way too high.

After his decimation, Victoria had them rebuild the board, and then, impressively, she walked him step by step through every single move that either of them had made in the game. With each move, she discussed options she might have made on his side of things, then how she felt during each of his moves. As a slight gut punch, though he knew she was only being honest, she felt he’d completely lost the match before his eighth turn.

After that, Victoria started talking about some concepts that he’d already begun to learn a little bit about. Material count, how to get all his pieces active on the board, spacing. She spent a lot of time on his pawns, discussing the importance of structuring them based on his preferred opening. With how immobile they were and how that could affect both the opponent and the owner’s ability to operate with their other pieces, they naturally determined a large part of a player’s strategic options.

Initially, it was a lot to take in, but once she started showing off the various “major pawn formations,” things started clicking a little better. She’d show one, then discuss its strengths and weaknesses. Some were more offensive, others defensive, and he also learned about the concept of tension, which involved mutually aggressive pawn formations—and how they’d typically result in more stable formations following certain exchanges.

Unfortunately, there was a lot more to it than even all that, though it made sense, or else every other person on the planet would be a grandmaster. They hadn’t played another proper match since the first one, and he now realized that she’d let him play one so that he wouldn’t get bored and wonder when they’d play. Nevertheless, he didn’t mind. He even felt that his understanding of some of what she was detailing was improving by the minute.

And many minutes were going by. They were about an hour into things when Victoria asked if he wanted something to drink.

“Lemonade?” she offered, cutting him off before he could make any mention of wine.

“Sure, thanks,” he said, holding back a smile.

Compared to his last visit, he didn’t worry about where to look as Victoria headed back inside her house. With those long legs on display, her shorts clinging tightly to her shapely butt, he knew exactly where to look, and he wasn’t apologetic about it. He stared, and he enjoyed the sight of Victoria Moreno from behind. Besides, by now, he’d seen far, far more.

When she returned with two tall glasses of lemonade in hand, he likewise enjoyed the sight of her bending forward to place it on the table before him. The act of leaning forward put her cleavage in full view of her younger guest, and there was no hiding where he was staring this time around. Victoria didn’t comment on the obvious ogling, returning to her seat a few seconds later.

“Drink up,” she said, voice dispassionate. And yet, then she added a little more. “You look thirsty.”

Liam swallowed, then met her gaze, holding back an urge to shiver against a winter that never thawed, no matter what month it was. “I really am.”

He took a particularly long drink, needing that time to cool his thoughts. His fingertips felt warm enough to leave steam where they met the cool glass, ice clinking about as he brought it to his lips. Yet, Victoria imitated him after he’d set his glass down, and then Liam was lost in the allure of seeing her throat move as she took a slightly less full drink from her glass.

Fuck me, it’s practically July back here, he thought, feeling far warmer now than he ever had on a day in March.

It was almost as if some unknown force—or one that was known and growing in size and influence underneath his side of the table—compelled him to speak up, even before her soft lips separated from the rim of her glass.

“So, are we going to play for any stakes?”

“Stakes?” Victoria asked, holding her glass just beneath her mouth. God, that mouth. And those eyes. And that all of her.

“Yeah, for extra motivation to improve,” he said, hoping he sounded more relaxed than he felt. By several orders of magnitude.

“You need extra motivation?” Victoria inquired, raising one fine eyebrow. “I thought you had that in your goal to beat Tess someday.”

“Yeah, but that goal is apparently way, way off. So, it’s a long-term one. Distant and difficult to fully see.”

“And I’m easier to… see?” Victoria asked, that eyebrow staying raised. “Regarding beating me?”

Liam felt like a juggler who’d intentionally started to feign difficulty keeping his balls in the air but accidentally lost complete control of his situation. Flailing about, doing his best to keep up the act, even though he was seconds away from everything tumbling down onto his head.

“We’ll be playing a lot of games together,” Liam began, to which that eyebrow seemed to ask, “Oh, will we?”

Clearing his throat, he resisted the urge to buy more time by grabbing his lemonade. “And you said she usually wins, so I figured I might have a slightly better chance against you… eventually.”

Victoria neither confirmed nor denied his supposition. So, he continued to flounder, lacking a hand to right him or push him over.

“So, yeah, we could set up some stakes for our matches,” he said. “Are you interested?”

Last night, he would have been certain she would have agreed. Right now, he felt like she might pick herself up, her lemonade, and probably even his, then guide him back to his car and away from her home. Her piercing stare just wouldn’t quit it. It couldn’t quit it; it was her one available setting. Severe yet sexy. It made for a sharp edge to hold onto, and yet Liam wanted to do anything but let go.

Victoria lowered her lemonade onto the table. Her gaze dropped to the thirty-two finely wrought pieces on the chess board. It stayed there briefly, but it eventually rose.

“In the event of your victory, what would you be hoping to obtain this time?”

Instead of relief, Liam felt even more anxiety. Because his brain wasn’t in charge of any part of this conversation, even if it did try to usher his lust for Victoria Moreno into something slightly coherent. And now came the part where he needed to prepare for Victoria to show him the door.

“Since tomorrow’s the last day for our previous deal, I figured we could replace that with this.”

Victoria’s immovable expression stayed solid. “So, you’d want a picture from one of my past vacations each time you win?”

Just. Say. It. Facing off against his self-doubt, his stomach churned. He felt like he was on an all-day drive, only an hour or two from his destination, but thoroughly cramped and exhausted. And then he just happened to spot a random motel, and now he wanted to stop off there and just call it a day. As they were now, he felt like she might go for this much.

But that wasn’t enough. And so, reminding himself repeatedly about the picture he’d found on his phone last night, and what it meant, and that he ought to keep his courage for just a few moments longer, Liam forced the words from his mouth. They were the kind that could never be drawn back in.

“Specifically, one of the ones you think would get five points.”

Something unfathomable happened, then. Something that no one would believe. Even if he’d somehow been recording her at the time, Avril and the others probably would have said he’d deepfaked the whole thing. But he swore it was real.

Victoria’s stoic expression, as permanent in its composure as always, cracked. One corner of her luscious mouth shifted, and something within her icy eyes almost seemed to catch alight, like a distant flicker of flame visible within a blizzard . A spark. Yet, it was barely anything, especially the change in her mouth. Barely a movement at all, maybe only a centimeter or two of a shift, but when a marble statue changed its expression, when that legendary composure somehow changed, it was as obvious as a sunrise.

Did she know that she’d done it? How aware was she of her body’s infinitesimal betrayal? Did she detect it, or was she oblivious to her immediate response?

Even as those questions gnawed at the deepest part of his soul, Liam was far too busy holding his breath to focus on figuring them out. A second went by. Another. Then another. Adrenaline rocketed through his veins, demanding movement out of him, yet he gripped the arms of her chair as tightly as he could, refusing to move before he got her answer.

“Effectively,” Victoria said calmly, voice refusing to follow her expression’s coup, “you’re asking for quite a lot. That, then, would mean that I, even if I’m expected to win almost every time we play, should be allowed to also ask for a lot.”

“That sounds reasonable to me,” Liam said, dizzy in the face of a possible triumph, like a wide receiver catching the game-ending touchdown on the thirty-yard line, not a safety or corner in sight. He just needed to waltz into the endzone, not trip over himself. Nothing but an act of God could rob him of his victory.

“Have you ever put any time into gardening?” Victoria asked, glancing past him.

“No, not really, but I’m not against it,” Liam said, perhaps a little too hastily. He’d have probably said he wasn’t against anything so long as it kept them inching toward finalizing this deal.

“Obviously, I do.” Victoria nodded toward the garden area she was looking at. Liam knew it was there, so he didn’t bother looking in its direction. He vastly preferred where his eyes already were. “And once we return from Fiji, I plan to begin plotting a more appropriate selection of flowers and vegetables.”

Even though it’d been confirmed in his head numerous times, Liam still trembled with excitement when Victoria plainly stated that she knew she already had enough points to ensure they visited Fiji. And that she’d probably known while sending him the most recent pictures, including last night’s wonderful gift.

“So, if I lose a match, I stay over and help with your gardening?” Liam asked, finding zero complaints about a deal that would “force” him to linger at Victoria’s home.

“No. If you lose a match, one of your free afternoons becomes mine. Summer break won’t be that far away, and you’ll be back in town for it, won’t you? And looking to stay?”

Liam nodded immediately, though he wasn’t sure how Tess and the others would feel about Victoria potentially monopolizing so many of his summer afternoons.

“No, that’s too much,” Victoria said, tapping her fingers on the table. “You’re going to lose dozens of matches to me. There aren’t enough days in your summer break. This is better. When we meet here for your in-person practice, winning even one match against me counts as your victory. If you can’t, and I win every match we play on a given day, I stockpile one day that you owe to me.”

“That seems really heavily in my favor,” Liam noted.

“Does it?” Victoria asked, a glimmer of a smile moving her mouth. “Would you like to start right now and see if you can win a single match?”

“Absolutely,” Liam said, not so foolish as to think the odds were good for him today but hopeful that a fluke—just one, that was all he now needed—might occur.

After taking one more sip of her lemonade, his most recently made teacher proceeded to utterly obliterate his ass over the course of the next fifteen matches they played that afternoon. And that was how Liam would soon find himself helping Victoria uproot her winter plants right before they left for Fiji.