Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 81245 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 406(@200wpm)___ 325(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81245 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 406(@200wpm)___ 325(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
“Okay. Let’s give it a shot.” He puts the card in the machine and it lights up, playing a jaunty fanfare.
“Ye’ll ne’er get yer filthy mitts on me treasure, yarr!” a gravelly pirate voice announces confidently as lights race around the complicated track under the glass.
This is cheesy as heck. I look over the table, trying to figure out what all the little doodads are supposed to do. “I know the basic ideas with the flippers, but if it’s more complicated than that I’m in trouble.”
“First, get in position. You wanna be stable and with your shoulders relaxed, ready to react.” He puts his big hands on my hips and shifts me into position. His hands are warm, even through my jeans, and the way his touch lingers is more than friendly.
“Okay, show me.”
His hands don’t leave my hips as he steps up right behind me, so close that I can feel the heat of him on my back. “It’s all about the timing. I’ll help you get the feel of it.” Reaching around me, he places his hands over mine on the sides of the pinball table, so that his fingers can push mine to hit the side buttons. He traces his fingertips over my skin and speaks with a quiet husk into my ear that gives me goosebumps, “The buttons are real sensitive, so all you need is a light touch.”
“You sound like you have a lot of practice.”
“I have enough.” He takes his right hand off mine. “Pull the plunger, real smooth, just the right tension… and when you’re ready, release.”
How is he making pinball sound sexy? The resistance is stronger than I expect, but I pull the knob back as far as I can get it and let go. It slams into the little spring and a steel ball shoots up the right side to start bouncing around. Lights flash, bells ding and the voice yells, “Ye shivered me timbers, arr!”
“Quick, fingers back on the buttons.”
Right. I grip the sides of the table, and immediately Stiff covers my hands again. He draws a sharp breath like something just hurt.
“You okay?”
“Yeah, just my arm, it stings sometimes. Nothing to worry about. Old injury.” He pushes closer to see over me, and my mind goes blank, remembering what he felt like beneath me on the couch.
The ball comes rolling down towards the flippers, speeding up as it comes closer. “It’s—”
“All timing. Just hit it—-now.” His finger pushes my finger, and the flipper catches the ball just before it vanishes into the gap at the end of the table. It launches back up at full speed into a metal ramp that carries it around a spiral, slamming open a little door before falling into what looks like a wooden barrel.
The game yells, “Right in me best barrel o’ rum? Ye’ll pay for that, landlubbers! Yarr!”
I barely notice. A new ball pops out from the launcher, but how am I supposed to concentrate with Stiff right up behind me like this? He plays like a pro, and I’m just along for the ride. Every movement he makes launches the ball, via my fingers, into a new spot that makes the machine spin, ding or mock us with its fake pirate voice. But also every move presses him against me, and it’s very, very distracting.
“Not me booty!” the game cries out.
I manage to hold it in for exactly two seconds before I burst out laughing. The ball zooms past the flippers unhindered, accompanied by maniacal pirate laughter. I twist in his arms so we’re facing each other. “You plundered his poor booty!”
Stiff laughs. He leans back and his hands move from the pinball machine to my waist. “I’d rather plunder yours.”
“I’ll think about it. You’re apparently quite talented.” I’m not sure that came out as much of a joke as it sounded in my head. The moment hangs between us, silly but not. My smile slips.
“What’s going on in there?” He taps the side of my head.
“I don’t know if I can do this.”
“Which part?”
“All of it? I’m so glad you guys have been here to help me, but I feel guilty because it’s not really your problem, and then I remember the only reason you’re here is because my sister is gone, and I feel even guiltier for laughing or kissing or just not being sad all the time.”
“You’re allowed to be human.” There’s no flirtiness left in his voice, just empathy. “I told you I was hurt in a fight at the club. It was more than that. My name? Stiff? I was Duke before that, but the day the Vipers attacked, I was one of the first on scene, and I had to choose between my own life and buying my brothers time. I chose them, and I died for it. After everything was over, they pulled my corpse off the ground and managed to find a pulse. This life I’m living now is all bonus time. And I had so much fucking guilt for so long about all the people who didn’t get that same chance.”