Page 70 of The Lineman

“Hi, house,” he singsonged in greeting, wiggling his fingers in the air.

The house didn’t wave back.

“You can just drop me off here,” he said. “It’s like fifty steps.”

I didn’t even hesitate. I drove past it.

Mike frowned. “What are you—”

“I’m taking you to your door, like a goddamned gentleman,” I said.

“Elliot. I live four houses away. Five if you count the corner.”

“Yeah,” I said, keeping my eyes on the road, “but if I let you stumble home in the dark and you trip over your own feet and crack your head open, I’d have to fill out paperwork, and Mrs. H would probably make me clean up the sidewalk.”

Mike stared at me. “That was . . . weirdly romantic . . . I think.”

I smirked. “I have a gift.”

He sighed dramatically. “Fine, but don’t expect me to be impressed by your chivalry. This is the least you could do for the Champion of the World.”

“Oh, I don’t.”

I pulled into his driveway and shifted into park.

Before he could argue about it again, I turned off the engine, unbuckled my seat belt, and stepped out.

Mike groaned. “You’resodramatic.”

“Said Mr. Tipsy,” I muttered, closing the door behind me.

He sighed but didn’t fight it. Not really.

I followed him up his front steps, hands in my pockets, watching the way he swayed slightly, still buzzed, still a little too proud of himself.

“Listen,” he said, turning at his door like he was about to give a victory speech. “I just want to say, for the record, that I had a fantastic night. Winning. Meeting your friends. Winning again.”

I rolled my eyes.

“And best of all?” he continued, eyes twinkling with mischief. “I got to see you stare at me like I was the hottest thing you’d ever witnessed.”

I snorted. “You really like hearing yourself talk, don’t you?”

He grinned. “Uh . . . yeah . . . duh!”

I tilted my head. “Huh.”

Then, before he could run his mouth again, I stepped in—close enough that he hit the door behind him. He had nowhere to go, nowhere to hide.

His breath hitched.

His smile faltered.

For the first time all night, Mike Albert was speechless.

I smirked.

Then, in the laziest, slowest, most deliberate way possible, grabbed his wrists, pinned them over his head against the door, pressed my body into his, and kissed him.

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