Game On by Victoria Denault

Author:Victoria Denault [Denault, Victoria]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Grand Central Publishing
Published: 2017-10-09T22:00:00+00:00

Two hours later, Mackenzie is in bed and I’m trying to convince myself that it’s not too late to open a bottle of wine. It’s almost eleven thirty and I have to be up by seven. I could have one glass, to take the edge of embarrassment off, but then I’ll want two and probably three. And then I’ll have trouble being a cheery foster parent in the morning. Mackenzie, I’ve learned since she started having to get up for school, is not a morning person—and at least one of us should be.

I’m staring longingly at my bottle of cabernet sauvignon when I hear a rapping sound. I turn from the wine rack to glance around the living room. I assume it’s Mackenzie, but as soon as I step out into the hall it happens again and I realize it’s coming from the front door.

I’m startled and a little fearful. No one I know would drop by this late without texting or calling me first. I force myself to inch over to the door, softly, like they might hear me, which they wouldn’t…whoever they are. I stick my eye up to the peephole. It’s dark and he’s hunched over but I would know that strong jaw and those eyes anywhere.

I crack open the door and our eyes connect and somehow residual embarrassment starts to flood my cheeks again. “You can see Mackenzie on Saturday. She’ll go to Daphne’s.”

“I came to talk to you.”

He reaches out and puts a hand flat against the middle of the door. He thinks I’m going to slam it in his face. I don’t. In fact, I let him step over the threshold and into my front hall. “I’m sorry about tonight.”

I look up at him through my lashes, with my head still tilted down, humiliation still refusing to let me have any pride in this situation. “You’re allowed to switch your volunteer day, and it’s not my business why. Is that why you’re here? I apologize for overstepping. It won’t happen again. Have a good night.”

He just stands there. He doesn’t move a inch, but somehow, he seems to take up more space in my narrow hall. His mood is darkening—intensifying—and that seems to be what’s taking up with space. He yanks a hand out of his pocket and scrubs his face with it. He opens his mouth, running his tongue along his full bottom lip, but then he doesn’t speak. Is he really going to make this even more uncomfortable for me?

“What do you want from me?” I blurt out, aggravated.

“I’m not going to sleep with that woman.” I look up at him and he’s staring with a look of intense discomfort on his ruggedly handsome face. He’s completely out of his comfort zone, being raw and honest with someone, but he’s forcing himself to do it. “Sex is just a way to have a good time. It’s not emotional or deep for me and trust me, I know that’s all this woman wants—a naked good time.

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