Page 46 of The Wrong Game

“Like how to be a giant pain in the ass.”

“Especially that.”

I smiled, and Gemma leaned in a little closer, watching me.

“Were you in the military, too?” she asked after a moment.

“No. I thought about it, but football took up so much of my time, it became priority number one.” I shrugged. “If anything, the military was only an afterthought. Football was everything.”

“And what happened to football?”

Now I really need a beer.

I scratched my chin, and then the Bears completed a pass down the field. Gemma stood with the rest of the fans, cheering the receiver on as he ran, her question temporarily forgotten. But when she sat back down again, her eyes were on me. Waiting.

“That’s a long story, for another time,” I offered. And I couldn’t help myself. I leaned over, invading her space.

And just like before, her face went red, her eyes wide when I tucked her hair behind one ear.

“Maybe if you let me take you on another date…”

“Nice try,” she teased, batting my hand away. But she was smiling — and that was better than looking at me like she wanted to rip my head off.

I’d take it.

“What are the other two things?”

I tilted my head. “What?”

“The other two things you’re a softie about.”

“No way, you don’t get any more freebies. You’ll have to give me another date to find out.”

Gemma crossed her arms. “You do realize this is never going to work out in your favor, right? You’re playing the wrong game.”

“That’s fine,” I conceded, leaning over her seat again. This time, I locked my eyes on hers, holding her gaze as my hand slid over her knee. “As long as I’m the right winner.”

Gemma blinked, mouth opening like she was ready to pop off her own remark, but it died somewhere on her tongue. Her eyes flicked to my mouth and back up again, but then someone cleared their throat behind me.

“Ben!” Gemma stood, making my hand fall from where it had been on her knee. I ran that hand back through my hair and stood, too, so Ben could pass.

He watched me the entire time.

“Thank you,” Gemma said when he handed her a beer. He had two for himself. “Ben, I’m so sorry, about what happened. I—”

“It’s all good, babe,” he said.

Babe?Who did this guy think he was. He’d known Gemma for all of two hours.

Ben wrapped his arm possessively around her, his glossy eyes finding mine. “I know who’ll be getting therealkisses later.”

He cocked a smirk at that, and I tongued my cheek, fists tightening at my sides. I wanted to knock that pretty boy smirk off his perfectly-symmetrical face, but that wouldn’t work in my favor. Gemma was pissed at me earlier, but somehow, I’d earned back a little of her trust. She was laughing with me. She wanted to know more about me.

And pretty boyBencould play his best cards. I still knew who’d win.

Gemma watched Ben like a slimy green substance she wasn’t sure about — like he could be fun putty or vomit. “Uh, okay. Well, thank you for the beer.”

“Anytime,babe.” Ben tugged her even closer, and I saw Gemma’s top lip visibly curl.