by Tabatha Kiss
A few more tugs in the right direction and I’ll have him eating out of my palm by morning.
I turn to the kitchen table in front of me and notice a wooden chessboard sitting at its center. The pieces are arranged at either end, standing within little black and white boxes but they aren’t ordinary pawns and royal figures.
I pick up the tallest piece and draw it closer to get a better look at it in the distant candlelight.
Small details come into view. He’s holding an ax by his side. A swishy beard covers his face. A flannel-patterned shirt.
A lumberjack.
“Be careful with that.”
I look up to see Leo lingering over my shoulder. He lays a paper towel-wrapped sandwich down on the table and takes the seat across from me, his eyes locked on the figure in my hands.
“Is it fragile?” I ask, pressing into the firm wood.
“No, it just took a really long time to get the beard right.”
I pause. “You made this?”
“Yeah.”
“From wood?”
He nods. “Yeah.”
“Like with a knife and stuff?”
“Carved it myself from a basswood block, yes.” His stare lingers on my fingers. “Try not to dig your nails into it…”
I loosen my grip and roll it over in my hand to take in the details one more time. “Wow…”
“What?”
“That’s quite some impressive wood you got there.” I look up as his lips curl. “Well, I mean…”
“I know what you mean.”
I set the piece back down on the board and focus on my growling stomach instead. My cheeks burn and I pray he can’t see them in the shadowed corner as I take a few bites. The bread is soft and fresh. The inside has just the right ratio of meat to cheese.
Damn, he makes a good sandwich.
I count the pieces on the board. “Some are missing,” I note.
“Yeah, it’s a work-in-progress,” he says. “I haven’t had much time to whittle lately. Hoping to have it done by Christmas.”
“Is it a gift?”
“No, just for fun.”
I crack a smile. “You have fun?”
His brow furrows. “Yes, occasionally. Why?”
“You don’t seem the type, is all.”
“And what type do I seem?”
“The kind that’s married to his work without a whole lot of time for… Well, for wood.”
He laughs softly. “You might be right.”
I tap the empty square beside the king in front of me. “Where’s the queen?”
“I haven’t started her yet.”
“What’s she going to look like?”
Leo makes eye contact with me across the table. “I’m not sure.”
I blink but I can’t quite bring myself to look away. “Oh.”
His blue eyes shine at me for a little bit longer before he leans back and gestures to the board. “Do you play?”
“Chess?”
“No, water polo,” he quips.
“No,” I answer with a laugh. “I don’t play chess.”
“It’s pretty easy to learn.”
I raise a brow. “You want to teach me how to play chess?”
He gestures around. “Unless you have something else to do. I mean, there’s no power. No TV…”
“You have no books?”
“Not unless you like Tom Clancy novels and business manuals.”
I wince. “Yeah, no.”
He leans forward. “I suppose I could crack open your mom’s diary again. There’s sure to be a dirty tidbit I didn’t get to that ought to hold me over until morning.”
I lick my lips clean. “Fine. We can play chess.”
He glances at the last pieces of my sandwich. “Want anything else?”
“No, I’m good. Thank you. Well…” I look at my robe. “I should put on some clothes.”
His eyes fall to my chest but they quickly rise back up. “Right, you’re…”
“A little naked, yeah. In your kitchen… which is probably kind of rude, now that I think about it.”
“No, it’s okay,” he says, holding up his hands. “It’s been a while since I’ve had a…” He presses his lips together. “Never mind. I’ll just go in the other room and set up a board and you can…”
“Get dressed.”
“Yep.”
Leo slides off his chair and bolts toward the living room.
I get an idea and bite my lip. “Wait…” He pauses between the rooms. “You… wouldn’t happen to have a shirt I could borrow?”
His expressions sits blank for a few moments. “Yeah.” He clears his throat. “I might have something.”
“Thank you.”
Leo leaves and I head back into the living room to grab some clean tights from my bag. He returns from the end of the house with a red flannel shirt and holds it out to me.
I chuckle as I take it. “You certainly have a style, don’t you?”
“It’s clean and comfortable,” he says. “You’re more than welcome to sit around shirtless. I wouldn’t mind.”
“Uh…” My nose wrinkles up. “No.”
He smirks as I snatch a candle to take with me and I feel his gaze lingering on my back as I close the bathroom door behind me.
Men love it when women wear their clothes. That’s a fact. I slide the robe off and throw the shirt around my naked shoulders. My nose instantly twitches with the pleasant scent of his cologne as I button it up. I pause and sink my nose into the collar, inhaling deep as a smile stretches my lips. It’s a large fit but, as promised, clean and comfortable.
I slide into my tights and check myself out in the mirror. One look at this and I’ll have him where I want him to be. I flick the top buttons open to reveal a little skin before stepping back out into the dark living room.
Leo has arranged a few more candles by the fireplace and placed an empty chessboard onto the carpet in front of it next to a small box of black and white plastic pieces. He glances up at me and freezes, his eyes wandering down to my toes and back.
Got him.
Ten
Leo
She walks in and I pause, making sure to gawk at her for a while before turning away. The more she thinks I’m attracted to her, the easier it’ll be to win her over. That’s a fact.
Although, I don’t have to pretend too much. She is nice to look at and the way my shirt hangs off her little form is actually quite adorable.
“So,” I say, lowering down to sit by the fireplace, “what do you know already about chess?”
Hazel wanders over and sits on the other side. “If it’s anything like checkers… not a lot.”
I chuckle and pull the box of pieces a little closer. “Well, kind of. It’s played on the same board but the pieces move according to their own limitations.”
“Okay,” she murmurs.
“Pawns can only move forward but can move diagonally if they’re capturing another piece,” I say. “Bishops move diagonally only and knights move in little L-shapes.”
“And you’ve lost me.”
“The main goal is to take out the king. If a king falls, the game is over.”
She picks up a plastic queen from the box. “And what about the queen? Why can’t she take over?”
“Because she can’t.”
“Why not?”
“Because it’s not in the rules.”
“Then, what can she do?”
“She can do whatever she wants.”
She exhales hard. “But then why can’t she take over the kingdom if the king dies?”
I grit my teeth. “The queen can move however she wants. Forward, back, diagonally. She protects the king, just like all the other pieces.”
“Why doesn’t the king protect his queen?”
“Because she wouldn’t stop asking stupid questions.”
“Wow…” she shakes her head, “the king’s a jerk.”
“You know what? Never mind.” I sn
atch the queen from her hand. “I’m sure I have some checker pieces around here somewhere…”
Hazel laughs. “Leo, I’m kidding. I used to play competitively. I know what the pieces do.”
I pause. “Really?”
“Yeah, really.”
“You?”
“Yes, me.” She raises her hand. “Spokane High School champion; three years.” Her brow furrows. “It would have been four but then that bitch Constance Welsh stole it from me senior year…”
I stare harder. “You?”
She takes the queen back from me. “Just set up the board.”
I do as I’m told, smiling softly as we trade turns reaching into the box and grabbing our plastic pieces; her white, me black. She lines up her pawns, placing them in their squares and shifting them until they sit perfectly in the center. I’d poke fun at it, but honestly, I do the same damn thing. Always have.
Hazel goes first, moving one pawn forward into the next row and instantly makes eye contact with me afterward.
I pause for a moment, wondering if I’ve somehow fallen asleep at my desk. Any second now, I’ll wake up covered in drool with Bobby staring down at me with that smirk of his. That’s far more likely than this annoying shrew turning out to be a slightly less annoying chess champion.
“What?” she asks.
I clear my throat and take my turn, hopping my knight over the row of pawns. “Nothing.”
The game continues on. We volley back and forth so fast, I quickly lose track of where I am and where she’s going. She’s clearly three moves ahead of me right now. I throw my focus at the board, hoping to catch up to her but she steals my knight right from under me before I even see it coming.
“You’re rusty,” she says.
I knock out one of her bishops. “So are you.”
“I live with my grandmother. She’s more the dominoes type and it’s hard to find people to play with otherwise.”
I nod. “I tried playing online before but it’s not the same.”
“Oh, I know,” she says. “You really need that face-to-face interaction to make it worthwhile. There’s nothing like watching the dread in someone’s eyes when you sneak attack their king.”
“Exactly.”
We sit silently, quickly trading turns but I lose even more competitive focus every time I look at her. That flannel shirt dips down her shoulder, revealing the edge of her collarbone. My eyes follow the shadows along her skin, down into the depths of her cleavage and I imagine ripping it open and tasting her.
I bite my inner cheek, pushing the thought away but she makes eye contact with me and I fall right back down again.
“Your move,” she says.
I blink to the board. “Right, yeah…”
I take in the state of the game. She’s somehow managed to come within two moves of checking my king.
Dammit.
“Where did you learn to play?” she asks me.
“Oh, chess is a Jackman family past time,” I answer, hesitating a second before moving my other knight to distract her pawns. “My dad always takes it pretty seriously.”
“I suppose that’s where that competitive spirit comes from.” She takes the bait and captures my knight, leaving her queen wide open in the process.
I flutter with excitement on the inside. “What makes you think I have one?” She raises a brow and I shake my head. “Lover’s Trail isn’t about competition. That’s business.”
“It’s all business just a fancy form of competition?”
“No. Competition implies a winner and a loser. If you do business correctly, everybody wins a little.”
“Except the trees.”
I scoff. “You’re not going to go Ferngully on me, are you?”
She blinks. “You watched Ferngully?”
“I have a sister,” I say quickly.
Her smile deepens. “Does she play?”
“A little but chess was mostly a man’s game in my house growing up.”
She rolls her eyes. “Yeah, I ran into that attitude a lot. Some people just can’t handle the idea of women using their brains.”
“It certainly gives me the willies,” I joke, taking out her queen with my rook and lining up an attack on her king. “Check.”
Hazel’s face twists with amusement. She extends her wrist to make her move, all the while staring at me. “Checkmate,” she says.
My grin fades and I look to the board as she taps my king over with her knight.
“Dammit…” I whisper.
“Maybe if you spent more time with your eyes on the board instead of my chest you would have seen that coming.”
I shrug. “Wouldn’t have been nearly as fun.”
She reaches into the boxes for her pieces. “So, you really do have some fun.”
“My job is a lot of paper pushing and board meetings. My hobbies keep me from going insane.”
“You don’t like the job?”
“No, I do. It’s just not what I want to dedicate all my time to.”
She nods. “Hobbies like wood and chess.”
“Wood and chess.”
“Is there anything else that takes up your time?”
I catch the hidden inflection in her tone. “You mean someone else?”
“I might.”
“Yes,” I answer. “There is someone who takes up quite a lot of my time.”
She hides the disappointment well. “Where is she?”
I purse my lips and blow a sharp whistle across the room. Pearl’s head pops up off the floor by the door and I point at her.
“She’s over there.”
Hazel laughs. “Well, that’s one high-maintenance broad you got there.”
“She definitely can be.” Pearl shuffles over and lays beside me. “But she’s worth keeping around for the late-night snuggles.”
I give her a few pats on the head and neck as she settles onto the rug and Hazel offers us a warm smile.
“And you?” I ask, holding her stare. “Is there someone waiting for you back in Spokane? Except for grandma, I mean.”
She shakes her head once. “No. Not anymore.”
“Anymore?”
Her face falls to the board again. “Well, I don’t know if you’ve noticed but I’m not that much fun to be around.”
“The last ten minutes haven’t been too bad,” I say. “In my opinion.”
Her shoulders bounce. “Guess I’m one of those small doses kind of people.”
“You know…” I smile, “I’m not going to argue with that.”
“I’m sorry, Leo.” She chuckles. “When I get passionate about something, it’s hard to let it go.”
I lean forward a little, hoping to draw out more feelings of regret. “I know what you mean.”
“I really didn’t want to…” She cups her bright pink cheeks. “You know, chase you into your office. God, you must have thought I was so insane.”
I laugh with her as I line up my pawns. “No, then I just thought you were peculiar. The insane thought didn’t cross my mind until you waited all day for me in the parking garage.”
She points a finger. “Actually, I didn’t wait all day. I left to get a burger at that place across the street and came back later.”
“Peggy’s?”
“Yeah, that one.”
“Good choice,” I nod.
“It was good.”
“I go there at least twice a week.”
“I can see why.” She pauses and watches silently until I line up the rest of my pieces. “So… are you going to apologize to me?”
I stare at her, pausing to see if she explains herself but she just sits there with expectant eyes. “For what?”
She leans back. “For being incredibly rude to my face in your office, maybe?”
“I wasn’t rude to you.”
“You looked at me once and then blew me off.”
“I was busy,” I argue.
“And you hit me with your truck.”
I gawk at her. “I did not hit you with my truck!”
“You also left me outside on that lawn all night long. I could have been eaten by a bear or mauled by a mountain lion!”
“Yeah, I wish.”
Her jaw drops. “You’re not even going to fake an apology?”
“No, because I’m not sorry,” I say. “I’m never sorry. I never apologize for anything.”
“That is quite possibly the most douche-y thing I’ve ever heard.”
“Even douchier than some people just don’t like the idea of women using their brains?”
She narrows her eyes and stands up. “Yes, actually. Even more so. Because my statement is true. Yours, on the other hand, is the mark of a stubborn, rich boy who never had to work for anything between feedings from a silver spoon.”
I follow her to my feet. “And yours is the pathetic whining of a weak, idealistic girl just waiting for that nice guy to come along, sweep her off her feet, and give her everything she’s always dreamed of. Reality check, sweetheart. Prince Charming doesn’t exist.”
“Oh, please.” She laughs at me. “Like you know what it takes to sweep a girl off her feet. Especially not with that beard.”
I grunt with frustration. “I could just k…”
My voice falls. All I can hear is the blood pounding in my ears. Heat from the fireplace tingles my skin, spreading warmth through every aching inch of me, igniting my most primal instincts.
“You could just what?” she asks. “Kick me? Kill me? Good luck with that.”
She turns to walk away but I grab her by the elbow and pull her back to me. Fear flashes in her eyes but they instantly close the second our lips touch. I kiss her as passion fills me and desire drives us both closer together.
A quiet moan escapes her throat. Her hands rise to my waist as mine wrap slowly around her back. My nose twitches with the fresh scent of her and my mouth waters as the taste of her lips overwhelms my brain.
This damned woman. I’ve never met a more frustrating girl in all my life but I can’t stop breathing her in. I can’t stop my hands from exploring her little body. My cock grows harder in my jeans, begging to be released and have its way with her. One more snarky word from her mouth and I surely will, if only for the sake of shutting her up.
