The Long Game (10 page)

Long before I was ready for it to end, she
broke off the kiss. She looked up at me breathlessly, her lips
parted. Our faces were so close I could feel her warm breath
against my cheek.

“I guess your prediction wasn’t so far off
after all,” she said with a playful grin.

I smiled and pulled her back to me for
another kiss.

CHAPTER TWELVE

“YOU HAVE NICE hands,” Spencer said, running
her fingers down my palm.

We’d spent every evening together in the week
since the party, and tonight was no exception. She stretched out
across the sofa in the sorority’s living room, her head resting in
my lap. It was rare for us to have the common area to ourselves, so
even though the television was on, neither of us paid it much
attention.

“You have nice everything,” I said, catching
her fingers between mine.

“Be more specific,” she said with a grin that
made my blood stir.

I shifted my hips slightly. “I like your
nose.” I leaned forward to kiss the tip of it. “Your chin.” I
pressed my lips to the southern point of her heart-shaped face.
“And I especially like your mouth.”

She lifted her head to meet my kiss. It
started as a peck, but when her lips parted, I tucked my hand under
her head to pull her face even closer. She slid a hand around the
back of my neck, and her cool fingers against the sensitive skin at
my hairline immediately made my kissing more insistent.

“Jeez, get a room.” Moira, the OIA sister
responsible for Spencer’s passing French grade, leaned against the
doorframe that opened into the living room.

“You’re one to talk,”
Spencer said, though she pushed herself up so she was sitting next
to me instead of lying across my lap. “You know how many episodes
of
The Daily Show
I’ve missed because you and your latest boy toy are hogging
the living room?”

Spencer’d explained on my first evening in
the house that the OIAs had a strict rule about when boys became
boyfriends and were thus welcome in the upper level of the house.
Frankly, it was a rule I was beginning to resent. The closer I got
to Spencer, the sooner I’d have access to Tommy and the book he’d
stolen from Pop. Still, I had to admit there was something
admirable about a group of girls looking out for each other, even
when it would be easy to look the other way. It reminded me of what
Pop had said about giving the young members in the clan a little
breathing room without letting them get into too much trouble.

Moira giggled. “Fair enough.
But it’s
Project Runway
day, so the TV’s mine in 20 minutes.”

When she’d gone, Spencer pulled her feet up
and turned so she was facing me. “I didn’t realize it was so late,”
she said, resting her head against the back of the sofa.

“Time flies.” I grinned at her. I wasn’t
ready to leave yet. I’d planned to press her a little more on the
subject of family tonight, maybe even work into the conversation
that I wouldn’t mind meeting her dad. But somehow the entire
evening had passed without me getting any closer to an invitation
to Tommy’s than I’d been since I’d run into her
accidentally-on-purpose outside the Carroll Center. Still, I didn’t
want to press my luck either, and the idea of spending a little
more time with Spencer certainly wasn’t the worst thing I could
imagine.

“You have an early class tomorrow, yeah? I
should probably let you get to bed.” I slid to the edge of the
sofa.

“Don’t you dare,” she said and threw her legs
into my lap, pinning me to the cushion.

I laughed, surprised but perfectly happy to
stay put. I leaned back into the sofa and looked at her. “Okay,
then. So what should we do for our last twenty minutes of alone
time?” I wrapped my hands around one of the slender feet in my lap
and kneaded the arch with my thumbs.

“Mmm.” She closed her eyes. “This is
good.”

I continued working the sole of her foot,
moving from arch to heel. A contented smile lit her face as she
relaxed deeper into the couch. Relaxed and happy. Perfect.

“So tell me more about your family. I know
you’re an only child, but what about cousins, aunt and uncles,
grandparents?” It was easy to keep my tone casual when I already
knew the answers to my questions. Any family she did have, Tommy
wouldn’t have told her about.

“Nope. I mean, I guess I could have relatives
on my mom’s side, but you know. My dad was an only child, and his
parents died when he was a teenager.”

“You weren’t kidding when you said it was
just you and your dad. Must’ve been tough.” My fingers moved to her
ankle. “I’m not sure what I would have done without my
brother.”

“It was lonely sometimes, but honestly, we
moved around so often I probably wouldn’t have been able to see
extended family very much anyway. Sometimes, the fact that it was
just him and I made things easier.”

“I can see that.” My hands had worked their
way to her calf muscle, and my fingers moved under the hem of her
cropped jeans. “Jimmy and I have gone on our share of road trips.
It’s not the same as moving around a lot, but it’s nice when you
spend so much time with someone on your own. You get to the point
where you can just sort of read each other without doing much
talking. It’s nice.” And it makes running cons much easier when you
were leaving town the next day.

“Exactly,” she said. She might have said
more, but my fingers brushed the back of her knee and the resulting
shudder apparently drove away any other thought she’d had.

“They’re thinking of coming up for
Christmas,” I said, switching to her other foot. “Maggie hasn’t
seen snow since she left Ireland.”

Spencer finally opened her eyes again and
smiled. “It’s so weird that you call your mom Maggie.”

“If you met her, you’d understand. It’s hard
to think of her as anything else.”

“I’d love to meet her. And Jimmy, too. You
know, if you’d be okay with it.”

I hoped the grin spreading across my face
told her I was excited by her desire to meet my family and not that
she’d just given me the opening I’d been waiting for. “I’d be more
than okay with it,” I said. “They’ll love you.”

Color appeared in her cheeks, and she smiled
shyly. “You think? I’d probably be really nervous and say something
stupid.”

“I doubt it, but even if you did, that’d
probably just make them like you even more.” I let go of her foot
and took both her hands in mine to pull her closer. “I certainly
like you better when you get a little flustered. At least then
you’re not intimidating the shit out of me.”

She gasped in mock-horror and poked me in the
ribs. Laughing, I wrapped my arms around her and pulled her onto my
lap. She squirmed against me, though there was nothing in her
expression that suggested she wanted to be anywhere else. She’d
given me the perfect opportunity to ask about meeting her dad, but
instead we were kissing again, following what had become a familiar
pattern of slow, deliberate movements that quickly progressed to a
more intent—even frantic—need to be close to her. To taste her.

She fidgeted in my lap again and maneuvered
one leg over mine so that she straddled me, her hands on my chest.
I trailed my fingers down her spine and gathered a handful of her
shirt, balling it in my fist so I could feel the exposed skin of
her back against my other palm.

“You know, you could skip class tomorrow. You
aced your French quiz, so you deserve some time off, don’t you
think? Maybe stay in bed all day,” I said.

“As lovely as that sounds, I
can’t. I’ve never ditched class in my entire life.” She kissed me,
stopping to nibble on my bottom lip for just a second. “But my
class isn’t
that
early. I can definitely stay up for a little while
longer.”

She slipped her hand under my shirt, her
fingers splayed against my stomach. My ab muscles tightened
reflexively, and my pulse thumping in my ears almost drowned out
the sound of the phone buzzing on the table beside us.

Spencer pulled her face back, leaning over
the arm of the couch to look at the phone’s display. I immediately
moved my lips to her throat, trailing kisses down to the hollow of
her collarbone.

“Shit,” she said under her breath. “Sorry.
Can you hold that thought for just one second?” She flattened her
lips between her teeth, her brow pinched apologetically.

“One
second,” I said and nipped at the skin of her neck to make
myself clear.

“Promise.” She grinned and reached to answer
the phone.

I moved my hands to her hips, ensuring she’d
stay put during the conversation.

“Hey,” she said to the person on the other
end of the line. “What’s up?” She paused, listening. “Yeah, you
already told me about that, remember? Like, last week sometime.”
Another pause.

She shifted slightly, and I sucked in a
breath as her body moved against mine.

“Not much, just hanging out with Moira.”

Her eyes flickered to my face, but I
pretended not to notice. Curiosity was getting the better of me,
though. Who was she talking to, and why did she lie about who she
was with? The thought that there might be another guy on the other
side of the conversation sent a possessive twitch through my
fingers, and they instinctively tightened on her hips. I wanted to
believe that competing with another guy would slow down my plan,
but the jealousy gnawing at my stomach told a different story. I
tamped it down and forced my face into a neutral expression.

“Yeah. We’re about to
watch
Project Runway
, but I’ll call you tomorrow, okay?”

Not if I could help it, pal. Even if it meant
stealing her phone again.

“Okay.” Pause. “Love you, too, Dad.”

It took my mind a second to get past the word
“love” to the word “dad” and still another to realize it had been
Tommy she’d lied to about who she was with. Apparently, she was far
more excited by the idea of meeting my family than introducing me
to hers.

Spencer was silent as she laid the phone
aside, and it took her several seconds to look at me again.

“My dad,” she said.

“Yeah, I got that.”

“Sorry,” she said, dropping her eyes. “I
don’t—”

“It’s okay, Spence. You don’t have to explain
anything to me.”

Her head snapped up, and there was real
remorse in her soft brown eyes. “No, I want to. It’s just…my
dad…he’s super protective. I haven’t really dated much, and
whenever I have, I’ve never told him about it.”

“I get it,” I said with a shrug.

“I know it sounds pathetic, but I just feel
like I need to protect him, you know?”

Her expression was so pained that whatever
irritation I’d felt quickly melted away. “It’s okay, Spence.” She
moved to look away again, but I caught her chin and forced her to
face me. “Seriously. I’m more than happy to stick around and show
you why I should be the first guy you introduce to your dad.”

A slow smile spread across her lips, and she
laid her head against my shoulder. “Thanks for understanding.”

“Of course.” I wrapped my arms around her
waist and buried my face in her hair. “I’m not in a hurry.”

CHAPTER
THIRTEEN

THE HOT OIL gave a satisfying hiss as I
spooned the last of the potato mixture into the pan.

“Wait, so what’s this again?” Spencer stood
on tiptoes to peer over my shoulder. She slipped her hands around
my waist, and I suddenly had the urge to abandon the cooking
altogether and show her the attention she deserved. But I’d
promised her dinner, and Maggie’s claim that a man could make any
woman fall in love with him if he knew how to cook kept me focused
on the task at hand.

“You’ve never heard of boxty? I think you
better get started on that letter of resignation from your Irish
sorority now.”

She dug her fingers into my waist. “We don’t
all have Irish mams, you know.”

I laughed, squirming away from her tickling.
“Boiling hot oil here.”

“Oh, fine. Be safe and boring.” She kissed
the back of my neck and wandered down the line of cabinets that
made up the galley kitchen.

I’d been pretty lucky in terms of finding
accommodations. The apartment was in the converted loft of a
detached garage about a mile from the Balanova campus. The space
was small but cozy, and the owners allowed me to rent by the week,
which suited me fine.

“So what is boxty?” she asked as she hoisted
herself onto the countertop by the sink.

“It’s a kind of potato pancake. There’s lamb
stew in that pot.” I gestured to the back burner. “Together, they
taste pretty amazing.”

“Lamb? Really?” Spencer pulled a face. “Like,
fuzzy, adorable, baaaah kind of lamb?”

I laughed. “Is there another kind?”

“No way am I eating that,” she said and
crossed her arms to punctuate her declaration.

“What are you, six? At least try it. I
promise you won’t be sorry.”

She frowned, still
skeptical, but I could tell I’d won the exchange when she sniffed
at the air again. “Fine. I’ll
try
it.”

“And like it.” I winked.

“No promises,” she said, though she beamed at
me. “Did Maggie teach you to cook?”

“She taught me everything I
know.” I deftly flipped the potato pancake. “There’s this old rhyme
that goes something like, ‘Boxty on the griddle, boxty in the pan.
If you can’t cook boxty, sure you’ll never get a man.’ But Maggie
always changed it to, ‘if you can’t cook boxty, sure you’ll
never
be
a
man.’“

Spencer giggled. “The more I hear about
Maggie, the more I like her.”

We grinned at each other. I knew Spencer
liked me, and it was only a matter of time before she’d warm up
enough to tell Tommy she was dating someone, but I also felt a
small pang of regret that I’d never get to introduce her to
Maggie.