Page 5 of Puck Me Secretly

“A chess bar is a place where you go to play chess and drink. Like a sports bar, but chess is the sport.”

That damn smile widened. “Chess is not a sport.”

“You sound like my dad.”

“Chess is not a sport,” he repeated.

“It’s an intellectual sport.”

“It may be intellectual but it’s not a sport.”

I flipped my hair over my shoulder. “Fine. The point is, I wasn’t ready to marry any of the non-sporty, intellectual Baby Men so that means, I have to intern for my dad for an entire year.” I gave a huge sigh. “And I’m dreading it. This business is my dad’s passion. Not mine. But he’s determined that I take over the reins when he retires.”

“And you don’t want to.”

I gave him a sad smile. “I want to do my thing. My parents have planned my entire life out for me.”

“That sounds like a lot of pressure.”

“You have no idea.”

Blue eyes scrutinized me. “I say go for it.”

“What does that mean?”

“Give this intern year everything you’ve got. Do the best job possible.”

I narrowed my eyes at him. “Why would I do that?”

“At the end of the year, if you decide it isn’t for you, no one can accuse you of not giving it your best shot.”

That was decent advice.

I yawned. “My dad would like you.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re not a Baby Man.” I tucked my feet underneath me. “I think I might pass out now.”

CHAPTER 3

Bang.

Disoriented, I woke up with a dry cotton mouth. I reached for my bottle of water and turned on the screen that displayed our location. We were 36,000 feet above North Dakota.

Max’s seat was empty. I got up to pull my iPad out of my bag. Once reseated, I craned my head, peering over the seats. I caught sight of Max’s navy-blue shirt at the front. He stood a full head above the flight attendant, who seemed to be more than enjoying her conversation with him. Her head tilted back so she could stare at his face. Now her fingers fluttered at her neck. He touched her arm and walked back towards our seats.

I said nothing when he settled down beside me.

“You’re awake.”

It surprised me he was the one starting the conversation between us. “Yes.”

“So, why did you date those guys?”

“Which guys?”

“The chess players. The babies.”

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