Page 8 of Spellbound
Her smile was pensive. “Yeah, but she remembered you. That counts for a lot.”
The conversation suddenly seemed heavy. As the truck roared past and I continued our drive past the outskirts of town, I let our exchange veer and wander, and for the first time in recent memory enjoyed conversation with a woman as more than a means to a satisfying conclusion. Don’t get me wrong, I wouldn’t turn down a few hours between the sheets with this woman, and my cock was totally on board. In sheer self-preservation, I turned the topic to a comparison of our favorite books.
“There’ve been some really good biographies out the past couple of years. Have you seen them?” I forgot my latest read on my night stand as I hurriedly packed for this trip, but who knew, maybe I was about to beoccupied. After all, hooking up with a small-town girl was Mimi’s suggestion.Who am I to not listen to my dear grandmother who’s only looking out for my best interests?“Or I can turn you on to several interesting books on military history. One recent—”
She held up a hand. “Snore.” And then she amused me by creatively mimicking the sound.
“If you really want to get your heart beating, pick up a romance. Any kind really, but my favorites have elements of fantasy. You know, vampires, shape-shifters. Dragons. Those are my favorite.”
I muffled my scoff.
She rolled her eyes.
“All right, be that guy. I also have a stack of political thrillers that’ll make you forget the rest of the world even exists.”
My dick was begging to abandon this silly talk about books, take a little vacation in Eegee’s fantasy land. Let him do his own shape shifting and go on the hunt for pussy. But something about this woman challenged me to be more than ‘that guy.’ Better. My heart was in jeopardy for a woman I’d known one day. How was this even possible?
“Thrillers, okay. I can climb on that train. But romance? It holds interest in real life, sure, sex makes the world go ’round and all that. But as a legitimate genre? Nope. Not buying in. Besides, isn’t most romantic fiction a fantasy?” Why else would readers go for the schmaltz? I gave her a bland side-eye, turned off the highway and into the parking lot of an enormous red building.
“Pfft!” She whipped her head around to stab me with an imperious glower. “I believe the saying is ‘love makes the world go ’round.’ Shows what you know about that.”
Out the window, she eyed the structure that at one time had been an actual barn, then turned back to me and I had the sudden urge to kiss that smirk off her face. Instead, I hopped out, managed to avoid rapping my head against the door frame, and jogged around to open her door.
“You’ll have to up your game when we’re in there, Elijah.”
The girl was pure sweet snark. I was doomed.
“Game on, Eegee. Game on.”
5
Emma Grayce
Evidently,Eli took challenges seriously. The Barn was lively for a Thursday night, with country music piped through high-quality speakers at high volume, a lively crowd occupying the area reserved for dancers. The place was decorated for the season with artificial—I hoped—spider webs dotted with plastic—please, God—spiders, and an array of jack-o-lanterns lining the stage. A steady stream of patrons travelled across the planked floor littered with straw, their destination a distressed wood bar that encompassed the entire width of the room.
The World Series—and a look at the score showed a close game—played on one of the largest monitors I had ever seen, and was the source of Eli’s periodic yet rapt spells of attention. At nine o’clock sharp, the music died and he abandoned the game, drew in his brows, and rubbed his hands together in intense anticipation. “All right, partner. Let the mind meld begin.” He briefly tapped his forehead to mine. Made a buzzing noise to imitate the flow of knowledge back and forth.
Or is that me?Maybe that noise was my synapses short-circuiting. The hum of my good sense free-falling, on the verge of a crash landing. What if I stepped into him, wrapped my arms around his waist? Maybe shoved up on my toes so my sensitive breasts pushed against his firm chest and our lips met? I forced myself to pull back before I did just that, steeled myself to ignore the tingle of awareness his light touch at the small of my back elicited as he steered me through the room.
We’d checked in for Trivia Night when we first arrived, and when the emcee hopped up on the stage and took the mic, the crowd paid attention.
“All right, ladies and gents. A lot of you already know me, but I see a few unfamiliar faces in the crowd so hi to y’all. I’m Deke McAllister, stepping in as your host tonight.” This Deke guy gave a little wave at his enthusiastic applause. “You folks might know Billy Timmons had emergency surgery earlier in the day. We wish him a speedy recovery.” McAllister had to wait another moment as the crowd offered another round of light clapping, presumably for Billy’s return to health. “Now, grab yourself a table if you haven’t; tie down your partner if you need to, and get ready to have some fun!”
“This ain’t gonna be near as fun as the night they crowned you Bachelor of the Year,” a young man seated close to a cute young woman yelled out from the crowd. Then the man yelped, as if he’d been kicked underneath the table.
“Now, Clay, we both know the only reason I was chosen is because you’re off the market now.” Deke moved his attention to the woman beside Clay. “Congratulations, Maggie. We wish the newlyweds all the best.”
A mixed smattering of chuckles, wolf whistles, and applause filled the area. After a short time, Deke motioned for quiet, and good-naturedly fell into his spiel.
“Tonight’s theme is for all you pop culture fans—film, music, and video games of the eighties,” he announced, to even greater applause. “So bust out the Aqua Net and parachute pants, and dust off your VHS and 8-track collections. Here. We. Go!” He shot a fist into the air.
I hooted and clapped with the rest of the crowd.
As generally happened, the event started a little slow except for those who’d already been drinking awhile. I’d been nursing the same Fireball and Coke for the past thirty minutes, so I signaled to the waitress for another round of the Halloween special. Eli ordered another IPA. When our drinks arrived, he scooted his chair closer until our elbows brushed, put his mouth to my ear, and lifted his beer. “A toast.”
Normally I wasn’t a drinker. Like, a one and done kind of lightweight. The vixen inside me giggled. The evening was about to get a whole lot more interesting.
I propped my elbow on the table and faced him, playing my game. Up close. “To?”
