“NO WAY, MAN,” Troy protests on the verge of losing the third game of Scrabble. “There’s no such word as cambist.” He slams his hand down on the table. “It’s time to consult the good old Scrabble dictionary.”
“I wouldn’t mess with my brother,” Julian chimes in. “If he says it’s a word, it’s a word. He reads books like people breathe air.”
Uncertainty passes over Troy’s face. “Okay, Vance. Enlighten us. What does it mean, then?”
Vance smirks, reclining back in the chair, arms folded across his chest. “It means… a few things actually. But one of them is… an expert in foreign exchange.”
Avery tilts her head, scrutinizing Vance’s face. “Hmmm, I believe him. Makes sense. Okay, who wants another beer and one more game?” She pushes away from the table and tosses a flirty glance at Julian. He wastes no time getting up to escort her into the kitchen.
“I’ve had my fill. Three games is my max.” I stand and stretch my arms above my head. “I’m going to get some air.”
Troy winks, pinching my arm as I squeeze by him. “You do that, Ems.” Vance’s eyes follow me while I try to keep my expression neutral.
The chill on the deck brings a wake-up call for my skin. My gaze travels upward to tiny stars filling the night sky. The patio doors open then and automatically my lips twitch. Strong hands come from behind, rubbing up and down my arms.
“You’re kind of cold there, Mickey.”
“A bit,” I reply, Vance’s touch adding a second layer of goose bumps along my skin.
“Be right back.” The patter of his Converse slapping against the wooden planks breaks the silence. He returns with a soft flannel blanket, wrapping it around my shoulders.
“Thank you.”
Vance gestures toward a lounger on the opposite side of the deck. “Let’s sit.” With a gentle hand supporting my arm, he leads me over to the chair. He positions himself first then tugs me down between his outstretched legs.
“I like this,” I admit, my body snug against the inside of his thighs, back resting softly against his chest. “It’s like my own personal cave.”
“Hmm, well you do fit quite nicely between my legs.” My pulse speeds up and I don’t need to turn around to know he’s grinning.
Extending my own legs, I lean further into him. His arms slip around my waist, fingers clasp over my stomach, cocooning me. “So how come you’re not drinking like everyone else?” he questions, and the memory of my night in the bar makes me cringe.
“I’m not really a big drinker. I don’t like what it does to people. Case in point, me, the other night. What about you?” I ask, his chin coming to rest on top of my head.
“Alcohol has caused a lot of destruction in my family,” he reveals. “Addiction runs rampant. Gambling, but specifically alcoholism on both my mother and father’s side. It’s part of the reason we’re estranged from both of their families.” He sighs, his breath fanning my hair. “There’s been a lot of damage. Hurtful things said, money borrowed that was supposedly for other things, and instead ended up being used to feed habits and destroy lives.” He strokes his thumb over my belly button through my shirt and my insides turn to liquid. “Plus, I don’t want to drink when I’m with you. I really enjoy our conversation and… I don’t want to miss anything.”
My heart skips a million times over. “That’s such a sweet thing to say.”
He chuckles. “No one has ever called me sweet before.”
I tilt my head back to catch his eyes. “Well, you are.”
He captures my chin, turning me toward him. His lips melt over mine, soft and warm before he whispers, “I think you’re pretty sweet too, Mickey.”
My entire body sinks into him, his lean, muscular arms holding me tight. I can’t remember the last time I felt this content. “Okay, Vance Davenport, tell me something no one else knows about you.”
“Let’s see.” He entwines his fingers with mine. “I used to be a closet skateboarder.”
My nose scrunches though he can’t see me. “What do you mean?”