My eyes narrowed. “IfI happen to lose, I have to keep wearing my uncomfortable work clothes. That seems pretty horrible to me.”
He shook his head. “Nah. Youwilllose, and I’d really like somebody on dish duty.”
I glanced over to the sink full of dishes. Correction… the sink full ofChase’sdishes. The small cabin didn’t have a dishwasher, and while I had gotten in the habit of washing my plate and cup after each use, Chase had not.
“No way. They’re all your dishes. Just wash them after you’re done using them.”
He sighed, leaning back on his chair, stretching his arms in the air. “I’m just always so tired after slaving away, cooking us both breakfast and dinner.”
“No.” I kept my eyes diligently averted from the sliver of muscly torso that showed when his shirt rode up as he stretched. Nope. I wasn’t tempted to lookat all,and I kept my eyes zeroed in on himalmostthe entire time. Yup, just call me ‘no peek Penny.’ Yeah, the back rub thing was out of the question.
He smiled, like a cat who had a mouse in his paws. “It’s either dish duty or a twenty-minute back massage every time one of us loses, or I take my clothes and walk away right now.”
If I reached across the table right at that moment, I wondered if I could wrap my hands around his neck and squeeze before he realized what I was doing? Memories of playing games and doing deals on Friday nights came roaring back to me. I had lost many things at his demand. Of course, he had lost several things to me as well, but I knew he wouldn’t give up until I relented.
“Fine. Dish duty for the loser.”
He smiled and began dealing out the cards. “What a great idea.”
He won the first hand with a pair of sevens.
He stood and made a big show of perusing the items, as if he were on some award show.
“Just pick one,” I ordered. The longer he stood there, the more nervous I was that his sweatpants and sweatshirt would be taken. Even though I needed the underwear, I really wanted some loungewear. A stiff work blouse and tight jeans, did not a cozy cabin make.
As if knowing the exact thing he could do to annoy me, he picked up his sweatpants and examined them carefully. Rubbing the soft material against his face in a ridiculous manor, and with such exaggerated moaning sounds, it forced me to hurl at him the only thing I could find within reach, the TV remote. He laughed as it bounced off his shoulder. He tossed the pants back on the chair and grabbed his basketball shorts off the couch.
“I’m dealing,” I said as he sat back down, his shorts draped over his shoulder.
“Should we take a quick break so you can get a head start on those dishes?” He leaned back in his chair, his arms folded behind his head, looking very pleased with himself. Visions of myself kicking the chair out from under him were my only solace as I shuffled the cards.
He won the second game. Okay, this was starting to get annoying. He picked one of the two shirts he had on display. I jumped when his hands began rubbing my shoulders, firm and in just the right spot. Though my first inclination was to push him away, I allowed myself just a second or two of pure, heated bliss. Another point for those sexy man hands.
“Sure you don’t want to trade for a back massage?” He whispered in my ear, his breath tickling the length of my spine. “I’m sure you’ll take this next game.”
Nope. Nope. Nope. I shook him off while he chuckled and sat back down. He was playing dirty now.
The third and fourth game, he won.
The fifth game; dirty rotten snake.
The sixth game; swear words.
Utter despair clawed at my emotions. I wassoclose. So close. This poker bet was as close to kindness that Chase would ever be inclined to offer me, and I had nothing to show for it. Why couldn’t the cards be reasonable tonight? He had taken a pair of socks, his sweatshirt, both of his long sleeve undershirts, and was now opening the pack of underwear. I still had nothing.
“I’m just going to donate this pair of underwear to you,” he said, ripping the package open and tossing me a pair of black boxer briefs. “I just feel like it would be best for all involved.”
To my utter shame and embarrassment, I couldn’t even pretend not to want them. I needed them. I clutched the underwear to my chest gratefully, as two pairs of socks smacked me in the head.
“Why don’t you just give me some of the other stuff too?” I asked, already knowing his sick and twisted answer.
“Because this is too fun.”
He came back over to the table and sat down. He stared at me. I stared back, and a smile began curling at his lips.
“Okay,” he said. “Last game.”
We both eyed the sweatpants.