Chapter 16
Jessica
“Hey, that’s not fair!” I yell at Charlie from across the table.
“Sorry, that’s the game.” He shrugs one bare shoulder.
We’re in the throes of a heated game of King’s Cup. Maddie made a rule: break a rule, lose an article of clothing. So when Charlie forgot to stand up when he drank, he ended up shirtless.
And I ended up forced to stare at his bare chest.
We’ve been playing for a while and have grown rowdy and inappropriate, especially since all the rules seem to be designed to push Charlie and me together.
It has taken over three hours.
The first thirty minutes, we avoided talking to each other.
At the hour mark, the alcohol kicked in, and we were able to ask each other to pass the salt.
Over dessert, I forgot to be on guard and called him out for taking the cupcake I wanted right out of my hands. We proceeded to have a ten-minute argument that released some of the pent-up frustrated tension and amped up some of our pent-up sexual tension.
Once we’d moved next door to the Rileys’ house so they could put their daughter to bed, the drinking games started. Slowly, over the course of the last two hours, we’ve gone back to being the two people we’d been when we’d met in the bar.
Now Charlie is insisting I have to strip off my shirt because I forgot the rule that if you draw a face card, you must speak in an Australian accent.
I puff up my chest in righteous indignation. “I didn’t forget. That’s my Aussie accent, and there’s no rule that says it has to be a good accent.”
“You’re such a lawyer.” His voice is chastising and hot.
“Thank you for pointing out how well-reasoned and factual my argument is. That’s big of you, Charlie.” I give him my most practiced, judicial smile.
Mitch laughs. “If city hall doesn’t work out, you should come work for us at State.”
“That’s very sweet of you, Mitch. I’ll keep that in mind,” I say.
“Hmm…” Charlie scrubs his palm over his jaw. “Weird how it sounded just like your regular voice.”
“It does not.” I throw up my hands. “When have I ever used the word ‘mate’?”
“Australian vernacular is not an accent.” His lips are curved in an evil smirk I’d really love to slap off him.
I mimic in the voice of a teenager mocking her father. “Australian vernacular is not an accent.”
Harmony, sitting there in a black bralette so pretty it’s almost as if she knew she’d be getting naked, giggles and hiccups. “Oh, excuse me.”
Next to her, Sam is also shirtless, looking angelic.
I wave in his direction. “What is your deal?”
The smile that comes to his lips is almost holy. “Deal?”
“Yeah, the whole choirboy thing?”
He laughs. “I have never claimed to be anything of the sort.”
Harmony points at him. “Oh my god, see? I told you.”
“I’m sitting here minding my own business.” He gently shoves Harmony’s shoulder, so she sways on the chair. “You pointed.”