Page 56

“You realize it’s only a game,” Ollie calls from the kitchen.

I glance his way, pushing my glasses higher on my nose. “Hush, it’s important to choose correctly.”

“If you say so.”

He’s in a soft gray Henley, sleeves pushed to his elbows, and a pair of worn-in jeans with holes at the knees. The outfit combined with the way he moves around the kitchen while preparing our snacks for tonight is so domestic. I like it too much, to be honest.

“Ah,” I say suddenly, sitting up straighter. “Found it.”

“Which one did you pick?”

“Monopoly.” He groans loudly and I grin. Jackpot. “Is it a sore subject perhaps?” I ask him knowingly.

“Damn Eli talks way too much. I should’ve known there was something fishy about your commentary. Were you waiting for the perfect moment to blindside me with your choice or what?”

Laugher bubbles up in my chest. “He said you get very competitive, and I honestly couldn’t believe it.”

“I do not!”

“Are you sure about that? Eli said you flipped the board once and stomped out of the room. And didn’t speak to him or Jax for four full days.”

“That was one time,” he argues. “And my actions were totally justified because both of those assholes cheated.”

I rise to my feet, clutching the box to my chest. “Please, let’s play one round. I won’t ask much else.”

“It’s a terrible idea,” he warns, but there’s a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

“Too late. I already committed and you said I could pick any game. If you’re so against Monopoly, you should have mentioned it beforehand, Braxton.”

Ollie shakes his head and pulls down two wine glasses. By the time he brings our drinks and homemade charcuterie board to the table, I’ve set up the game, my tongue peeking out as I arrange the money into neat stacks. Tilly sleeps soundly in the bassinet in the corner. Ollie hands me a glass and our fingers brush, just barely, and that now-familiar spark flickers between us. I don’t pull away immediately. Neither does he.

I lift my glass. “Cheers.”

“To poor financial decisions in the name of fun,” he replies with a hint of amusement.

I laugh, settling onto the chair across from him. At first it’s all harmless; we roll the dice, buy properties and tease each other. I mock his exaggerated seriousness and short fuse that only comes out while he’s playing. He accuses me of manipulation when I refuse to trade unless it’s wildly in my favor.

“I’m playing strategically,” I insist.

“You’re playing emotionally.”

I gasp. “How dare you. That’s such a guy thing to say!”

“Don’t even start with me, Miss California,” Ollie mutters and I laugh at his reaction.

Twenty minutes in, I understand what Eli meant when he warned me about playing Monopoly with his best friend. Ollie leans forward, eyes narrowed at the board. He taps a finger against the table as if punctuating each thought.

“There it is; the face. You’re locked in,” I murmur, pushing a loose strand of hair behind my ear.

“I’ve always been locked in. You just missed the obvious signs.”

I snort, reaching to rearrange my stack of money. “Like how you tried to intimidate me with a hotel placement?”

“It’s psychological warfare.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“And yet,” he says smugly, “you’re losing.”