Total pages in book: 58
Estimated words: 55760 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 279(@200wpm)___ 223(@250wpm)___ 186(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 55760 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 279(@200wpm)___ 223(@250wpm)___ 186(@300wpm)
Whoa! What the fuck?
The microphone screeched as I breathed into it and glanced out at a sea of expectant faces. I had a déjà vu of being on the ice in a clutch shoot-out, sweating bullets as I waited on the line for my turn to face off with the goalie. I’d been one of the best for so long and then…I lost my edge. I lost my game.
Someone in the audience cleared their throat and snapped me back to reality.
“Uh…sorry. B-9.”
“What else?” A pipsqueak kiddo at a table under a bulletin board called out.
I spun the cylinder again. “N-45, B-11, I, um…16.” Okay, was this real? Was I actually standing in front of the town reading Bingo numbers on a Friday night? I looked up when an expectant hush filled the hall. Apparently so, I mused with a heavy sigh, pulling out the final ball. “G-59.”
“Bingo!”
The room erupted in cheers, tears, and general mayhem. I stared out at the surreal scene, wondering for the millionth time what kind of trick the universe was playing on me.
4
IVAN
“You’re a lifesaver! Thank you.”
I raced to the table, dumping the cards I’d collected next to the number wheel, and surveying the chaos. We had fifteen minutes to clear the room and another fifteen to set up for the adults. Naturally, we were extremely shorthanded today. I’d been requested to come in early to relieve the teenage MC who’d claimed he had a bad case of food poisoning.
We all suspected Travis had cut out early to make it to the high school football game in Wood Hollow tonight, and though I couldn’t blame him, I didn’t appreciate arriving to a mini shit show. No one had been given their prizes, cards were scattered on the floor willy-nilly, and the refreshment table was a mess.
However, I shouldn’t have thrown Court to the wolves. He was just the first person I saw and…I panicked. I supposed I should have asked what the hell he was doing here at all. His dazed and confused expression made me think he’d made a wrong turn at the post office and lost sight of the exit. He certainly didn’t look like someone with a hankering to relive his past.
“You’re welcome.” Court narrowed his eyes and did a Vanna White arm sweep at the host table. “Are you the Bingo master or something?”
I shook my head. “Bryson is usually in charge of hosting duties, but he couldn’t make it again this week and evidently, no one bothered to find a replacement for him, so I guess I’m it tonight. Did you come to play or—”
“No, I was on my way out the door, actually. Fuck, I need a drink,” he grumbled, scrubbing his hand over his beard.
“I have a flask of gin in my backpack. Go for it.”
Court cocked his head in confusion. “You brought alcohol?”
“Mmhmm. Side pocket, silver flask. Pour yourself a cup of lemonade and add the fun stuff at your own discretion.”
I waved to a few familiar faces as the family crowd began to file out and the serious bingoers took their places, then glanced over at Court.
He crouched low to riffle through my bag in search of the flask, his muscular shoulders testing the integrity of his tailored blue oxford shirt. And don’t get me started on those jeans. Damn. That man had a fine ass. Perfectly round and muscular and—
“Is this it?”
I fixed a friendly smile on my face and clandestinely checked for drool. “Yep.”
“And this is…legal? I mean, this is a church function, isn’t it?”
“It’s legal-ish.”
He chuckled. “What does that mean?”
“It’s common enough for folks to add a splash of something extra to their drink of choice. However, we don’t serve booze, because we don’t have a license for it.”
Court poured lemonade into a red Solo cup, added gin, and handed it over to me. “So if I was a cop, I could arrest you for bringing an open container onto public property and double arrest you for drinking it.”
I snorted. “Yeah, sure, but this isn’t public property because…Town Hall belongs to the church.”
“Ahh, Elmwood.”
“Trust me, I’m not getting drunk on Bingo Night and neither is anyone else here. But a little nip won’t hurt, and big perk—most of us can walk home or get a ride with a friend.” I took a sip of lemonade and immediately choked. “Whoa. That was a strong pour.”
He helped himself to the lemonade and gin, swirling the contents thoughtfully before tipping his cup back. “Not bad. I could see how this makes Bingo fun.”
“Bingo is fun,” I corrected, quelling my instinct to remind him that we’d shared a few laughs here twentysomething years ago. That was too…pathetic. I gave my attention to mixing the returned cards as I changed the topic. “I’m surprised to see you here. Did you get lost?”