by Tefft, Cyndi
“Hmmm… let’s see,” I mumbled to myself as I considered which cards to discard, finally choosing two that I wanted to replace. His face was stoic as he regarded his own hand and made his discard selection. I chewed on my fingernail and sighed, then pushed a good-sized handful of buttons into the center of the table between us for my wager.
“You understand that you only have to bet one button to stay in the game, aye?” he said.
I shrugged and gave him my best devil-may-care smile and he regarded me suspiciously, but matched my wager with his own.
“Well then, let me see what you’ve got.”
I gingerly spread my cards out on the table and asked with wide-eyed innocence, “Three red, two black, ace high. That’s something isn’t it?” Seeing I’d played him with my air of uncertainty while holding a very high-scoring hand, he let out a full belly laugh and splayed his cards out, shaking his head. He smirked and crossed his arms on his chest as I gleefully drew the pot to my side, giggling.
“That’s how it’s going to be, is it? Fine, we can play your way. No mercy, aye?”
I grinned wickedly at him and relished the spoils of victory, taking a deep swig from the flask on the table. The whisky seared my throat, making my eyes water. Warmth spread throughout my chest.
He dealt another hand and said, “You don’t have to drink it if you don’t want to.” Even with just the one gulp, I could already feel the effects of the whisky moving through my system.
“No, it’s good. Really. It’s just stronger than I was expecting. Besides, I haven’t been drinking it since I was four, you know.”
“Fair enough. And it’s no matter”—he shot me a challenging look—“since that’s the only one you’ll get tonight. I hope you enjoyed it.”
I gaped open-mouthed at his jibe and laughed, loving the smack talk. “Oh, bring it on. We’ll just see who gets drunk under the table tonight.”
He made his Scottish harrumph but a smile played across his lips before he picked up his cards and his face became completely unreadable. True to his word, all bets were off and he cleaned my clock several hands in a row after that. He took each winning swig with a satisfied grin as I playfully glared at him, enjoying the fuzzy sensation in my head as well as the competitive tension between us.
The alcohol didn’t seem to affect him at all, though he’d had quite a bit of it. The room was getting quite warm from the fire and I was getting very warm myself for different reasons. Firelight danced off the streaks in his wavy blond hair and I licked my lips, thinking about how gorgeous he was. He dealt the next round and watched me while I picked up my cards. Surprisingly, I’d been dealt a most excellent hand but had only one button left in my pile.
Inspiration struck and I whispered to him in a sultry tone, “How about we go all or nothing this hand?”
“That’s not a very convincing proposition coming from a woman with just one wee button left to wager. Why would I want to do that?” He cocked an eyebrow at me in challenge and I locked him with my gaze.
“I have some more buttons to throw in.” My hands went to the front of my blouse and I slowly undid the top three buttons of my white eyelet lace shirt, my eyes never moving from his. He made a low, rumbling sound in his throat as he watched, obviously accepting my challenge.
“If I win, I get the rest of the whisky,” I said firmly. I felt a shimmer pass over me and he gestured to the flask with his chin.
“There, now it’s full again. And if you lose?”
I could feel the blush of desire creeping down my neck and across my chest. “You get the rest of the buttons.” The heat from his stare was stronger than the fire as he pushed the entire pile of buttons into the center of the table.
“Ah, you make me an offer I cannot refuse, no matter what the stakes.”
I grinned at him triumphantly, thrilled at the power to rouse him and feeling quite excited myself, not sure whether I wanted to win or lose. A log from the fire shifted, sending sparks onto the hardwood floor and making a hissing, popping noise but otherwise the room was completely silent. Tension crackled between us.
“I’m ready whenever you are,” he said.
He quirked his mouth and glanced down at my cards by way of explanation but the double entendre was not lost on me. I fanned my cards out on the table and he let out a sigh of surrender as he revealed his losing hand. After feeling his penetrating gaze, I was a little sorry to have won, thinking about his hands on my skin as he collected his payment. Still, I smiled victoriously and took a long drink from the flask, this time enjoying the peppery taste as the whisky flowed down my throat.
I’d watched him take shot after shot from the flask as he won each prior hand, and not to be outdone, I tossed back another hefty swig myself. The effect of the alcohol in my blood was building quickly and my vision begun to blur. His face showed concern mixed with amusement, the corner of his mouth twitching in a secret smile.
“Whoa, lassie. You don’t want to drink it all at once or you may not be able to stand up.”
Just to prove a point, I took another swallow and walked around the table, my head swimming and my heart hammering in my chest. “Hey, I’m the winner here and I’ll do as I please,” I said belligerently.
He raised his eyebrows at me but said nothing, one arm coming around my waist to steady me in case I needed it. I brushed it away haughtily and threw one leg over his lap, grabbing his linen shirt in my fist. I pulled him to me fiercely, my mouth insistent and demanding, and his arms closed tight around me. I held onto his hair with my free hand and jerked his head to the side as we kissed madly. He ran his hands up my bare legs to the hem of my shorts, then over my hips, his fingers digging into my flesh. A drunken lust pulsed through me. Pulling away from his kiss, I gasped for air in the stifling heat of the room.
“I need to cool off. I feel like I’m on fire,” I said. My legs were a little shaky as I stood up and he reached out to help me.
“Lindsey, we really—” he started to say but I cut him off.
“Ooh, I have an idea. Let’s take a shower together!” I ran my fingers down his chest and proceeded to tell him in explicit terms exactly what I intended to do to him once we got there. He stiffened at hearing my suggestive words, a war of excitement versus propriety taking place in his eyes. He grabbed my wrist and pulled me over to the couch.
“That sounds delicious, don’t get me wrong, but I think maybe you’d best sit down instead.” He lifted me onto his lap and encircled me in his arms. His chest shook with silent amusement beneath me.
What’s so funny?
He broke into a wide grin but then looked down sheepishly. “I probably should have told you before, but I was enjoying it too much to want to stop you.” His eyes danced with mirth and I shook my head in confusion, suddenly impatient with whatever secret he was keeping.
“Told me what, Aiden MacRae?”
“It’s nothing, really. I just… well, you don’t feel the effects of the whisky here unless you want to. You’re not really drunk; you just think that you are. It’s all in your head.”
Now I was really irritated and I scrambled off his lap, frowning with indignation. He reached out and grabbed my hand, not letting go though it was clear I wanted him to.
“That’s not true! It’s just that you’ve been drinking since you were practically a baby, for crying out loud. I’m not even twenty-one yet so it’s no big surprise that your crazy strong Scotch would make me loopy! Don’t make fun of me!”
I yanked my hand out of his grasp and folded my arms across my chest. Defensive anger bubbled up in me. His voice was quiet but clear, though I wouldn’t look at him.
“I’m sorry, Lindsey. I didn’t mean to make fun of you. And you’re right, I should have told you instead of letting you go on. I was just enjoying seeing you so relaxed and confident that I didn’t want it to stop. Of course, I let it go a little far when you started talking like a French whore…”
My head snapped around.
&
nbsp; “What?! Oh no you didn’t just…” I leapt off the couch in a rage. “I can’t believe you just called me a whore!” I spat.
“Sit down, Lindsey."
"I am not a whore! You of all people should know that."
He made a big production of sighing and shaking his head like I was a child throwing a tantrum. And at that moment, I felt like throwing a tantrum, childish or not.
"I didn’t say you were a whore, just that you were talking like one. There's a difference.”
"You're damn right there's a difference," I responded with a huff. I wanted to say something sarcastic and biting, but I couldn't think of anything, so I just stood there, seething.
"Please, I didn't mean it the way it sounded. Sit down," he said.
I fought with myself about giving in, but finally plopped down next to him, my arms locked in defiance. Finally, I narrowed my eyes at him in a deathly challenge, my voice steely. “Fine. But what about you, huh? You say that I'm talking trash, but you can't tell me you didn’t enjoy it. I saw the look on your face before you got all high and mighty. You wanted me.”
His face softened and his eyes held mine, though no words passed between us. Reaching out, he brushed his finger down my cheek. I jerked a bit but held firm. He bent his head forward slowly and lightly touched his lips to mine. I sat stiffly next to him, though my traitor heart thumped loudly in my chest at his soft mouth’s gentle caress. Still, my mother used to call me as stubborn as a mule and I did not give in, my back stick straight, feeling that I had let my guard down with him and that he’d hurt me for it.
He suddenly shifted away from me, his hands dropping into his lap. For as much as I’d struggled to maintain my angry distance, I felt very cold and empty when he broke contact.
“I’m sorry,” he said to the fire, which popped and hissed in response. We sat there in silence for a time as I tried to calm down and think of the right thing to say. When I did finally speak, it came out in a hoarse croak.
“I trusted you, Aiden. I only said those things because I knew that I was safe with you. Was I wrong?” His eyes met mine, his face etched with regret.
“No. I was wrong.” He gingerly reached out his hand between us and I took it, feeling torn between pride and reconciliation. “You will always be safe with me, mo chridhe, and I should not have teased you.” His sincerity broke through my thin veneer of bravado and I nodded. He gathered me into his arms once more and spoke softly in French as I melted into him.
“And yes, to be honest, I did enjoy it. You're a sexy wench.” His eyes lit with a hint of a smile and I couldn’t help it, a giggle escaped me. I smacked him on the arm and his smile blossomed into a full-blown grin, then we both began to laugh. He brushed a stray curl away from my face and pulled me higher on his lap so he could easily look at me.
“Truth be told, I love the way that you surprise me, the way you respond like no other woman I’ve ever met. You are sweet and tender and caring, but at the same time, you’re feisty and daring and wild, and God help me, a wee bit nasty too. You make my blood boil in my veins when I hold you in my arms, and I cannot touch you enough to make the wanting go away. You are everything I could ever want in a woman and I love you with all my heart, Lindsey MacRae.”
Hearing him say my new name sobered me and my heart skipped a beat in response. “I love you, too.” This time I moved forward for the kiss, sealing tight the gap that had threatened to begin between us. He kissed me back, holding me close like he’d almost lost something precious.
We sat together on the couch, kissing and holding one another for a while. I leaned my head against his shoulder with a sigh and we watched the flames in the fireplace, their orange tongues flickering over the logs and thin wisps of smoke disappearing up the chimney. It was hypnotic and soothing, the peacefulness of the room settling over me like a soft blanket. We sat in silence for so long that Aiden’s voice seemed loud in the room when he spoke.
“I’ve been meaning to ask you. What’s that forked metal rod for?”
I followed his eyes to the woodpile next to the fireplace and the object in question propped up against the wall behind the pile.
“Oh, it’s for roasting weenies and marshmallows in the fire.” He stared at me blankly. “Weenies, wieners, you know, hot dogs?” He shook his head and I thought for a moment. “Sausages?”
Understanding lit up his face and he nodded with a smile. “Aye, but what was the other thing you said? Marsh something?”
“Marshmallows. I’ll grab some and you can try them. You use them to make s’mores with graham crackers and chocolate.” I collected the supplies out of the kitchen and handed him the bag of marshmallows. He pulled one out and squished it curiously between his fingers.
“You mean to tell me you eat this?”
“Yeah, they’re yummy, especially when you cook them over the fire. But first you have to get your s’more ready so you can drop the hot marshmallow on the chocolate as soon as it comes out of the fire.” I pulled out a graham cracker and broke it in half, then placed a square of chocolate on top. He stared at the chocolate, picking up the rest of the candy bar in fascination. “Didn’t you have chocolate in your day?” I asked, horrified at the thought of living in a time without chocolate. He nodded, holding the candy like it was a bar of gold.
“We did, but it was very expensive, so I’ve only tasted it once before.”
“Well, no wonder you guys were always trying to kill each other. Life is hardly worth living without chocolate,” I said. He broke off a little piece and placed it in his mouth.
“Mmmm… maybe you have a point there.”
I laughed and stuck two marshmallows on the roasting fork, then handed it to him, explaining how to hold it over the flames just right so that the outside turned a golden brown. He pulled a footstool over to the fire and gave it a try, but got the fork too close to the flames. In the blink of an eye, the soft white mounds turned into miniature fireballs. He jerked back reflexively, causing one marshmallow to slide off into the fire and the other to go flying like a meteor across the living room.
“It’s all right, I’ve done that many times. Don’t worry about it. We have lots more.”
Frowning, he pulled two new marshmallows out of the bag and poked them onto the fork. I could hardly keep from grinning but I didn’t want to hurt his feelings, so I worked on preparing another s’more. He made that familiar harrumph in his throat and stuck the fork over the fire, determination written on his face. He kept the marshmallows high over the flames this time, patiently turning them until they started to bubble.
“Those look beautiful,” I said. “Here, I’ll show you how to take them off. They’re sticky and hot on the inside, so you don’t want to touch them or you’ll burn yourself.”
He held the fork out to me and I encased one of the marshmallows with the graham crackers and chocolate, squeezing it between the crackers and sliding it off the rod. With pride, I held up the oozing finished product and he followed my example, extracting the other marshmallow onto the s’more with ease.
“Give it a second to melt the chocolate and then you can bite into it. Careful though, it’ll be hot.” He nodded seriously, like this was some sort of initiation rite, and I giggled, thinking of how I’d been eating s’mores since I was old enough to walk. After a pause, he gingerly bit into the treat, the gooey marshmallow sticking to his lips as he chewed it. He broke into a wide smile as he finished and my heart leapt in my chest, thrilled to get to share in his first taste.
“It’s thick though,” I said, “so we need something to wash it down with. I’ll get some milk.” I leaned forward and planted a sticky kiss on his lips, enjoying the way we stuck together slightly as I pulled away.
He reached up and stroked my cheek before I headed into the kitchen, wiping the crumbs from my hands and humming happily to myself. I could hear him digging into the marshmallow bag to reload the fork as I reached for the metal refrigerator handle.
An electric shock pas
sed through my arm when I touched the handle and I jerked back, staring at the refrigerator in confusion. Cautiously, I reached out to touch it again and nothing happened, so I opened the door and pulled out the milk, frowning.
That’s weird. I didn’t realize we’d have static buildup here. I thought to myself, but shook it off as I poured two glasses of milk and put the jug back in the fridge. I turned back toward the living room to see Aiden setting up two sets of graham crackers with chocolate for our next round.
“Aiden, the strangest thing just happ—”
I broke off mid-sentence as a fresh wave of electricity ripped across my chest like a lightning bolt. My whole body spasmed with the shock and the glasses I’d been holding dropped to the floor and shattered, spraying milk everywhere.
Aiden’s head jerked up and his eyes widened in horror. He leapt up off the couch and ran to me with his arms outstretched, yelling, “No!” But he was so far away. The distance between us seemed to stretch out like saltwater taffy as I reached for him, confused and afraid.
“Help!” I cried, but the words did not leave my lips.
Lindsey, no!
His panicked voice filled my head as my vision blurred and he melted away. Another jolt wracked my body and I clamped my eyes shut in pain. Blackness swirled around me and an icy chill engulfed my body as I fell, flinging my arms and legs wildly in an attempt to grab onto something. Mind-bending fear consumed me and I felt as if I were being pulled inside out and torn limb from limb all at the same time. I slammed down into something hard, like hitting the pavement after a fall from a tall building, and went limp, my body racked with excruciating pain and my mind unable to contain it.
“She’s alive!” an unfamiliar voice said and I struggled to breathe, a heavy weight pushing down on my chest, then releasing as a flood of fire filled my lungs.
