I started with some NASCAR racing, switched to Donkey Kong, and then hit the Galaxian. I burned about an hour before I noticed the place was suspiciously emptying out.
Or, to be more specific, everyone was moving toward one side of the arcade, huddling around the air hockey table in clusters of fours and fives.
An air hockey connoisseur, myself, I headed over to the table to see what all the fuss was about.
I should have known from the start the only person with the ability to attract the attention of every male on this cruise was Tennessee Turner.
She leaned forward on one side of the air hockey table, her breasts spilling from her lacy dress like fountain soda at a loosely regulated movie theater.
She pressed her finger pad to striker by the nub, like she couldn’t be bothered with holding the entire thing, stopping the puck from slipping into her slit.
I glanced over at her competitor and found a man who looked to be in his late twenties, trimmed and decent-looking, who actually paid attention to the game and not her jugs (this was a euphemism, by the way).
My pulse quickened. I ignored the weird sensation, chalking it up to the fact I was spending ten days with the village’s official idiot/harlot in the middle of the ocean.
They went on for ten minutes. She smoked the poor guy, then another dudebro—younger, this time—took his place while the twenty-something man retired and returned a few moments later with a cocktail for the lady. And by ‘the lady’ I mean the current bane of my existence.
She wiped the floor with dudebro number two, too, and then with the girl who replaced him, and the middle-aged man who stepped in—he was someone’s dad and had been called to save the day.
Tennessee was indisputably talented at air hockey, I remembered from our adolescent years. In fact, there was only one person she hadn’t beaten in the entire town.
Me.
Even though we were supposed to keep away from one another tonight, I couldn’t turn down competition when one presented itself. So when more and more people gathered and begged to play with Tennessee, I stepped forward, in front of her, from the other side of the air hockey table, and dropped three Benjamins at the center.
“Wanna make it interesting?”
“This, coming from the most boring man on planet Earth.” She pretended to blow on her fingernails, like they were on fire, a sarcastic smile on her face. “What are you offering?”
“Bet I could win this next game with one arm behind my back.”
Everyone around us sucked in a breath.
Tennessee straightened her posture, giving me her all-business look, which I’d been used to from Jerry & Sons. I’d secretly loved it when she waited my booth. Any crumbs of attention from her were welcome.
She arched an eyebrow. “Mr. Weiner, I’m surprised.”
“Why’s that, Mrs. Weiner?”
“I thought I told you to leave me alone tonight.”
“That was before it came to my attention that you were the main event at the arcade.” I made a point of dropping my gaze to her cleavage, letting her know I didn’t only mean her air hockey skills.
She threw me a sex kitten smirk. It killed me that I wanted her and killed me even more that I couldn’t have her, even after I’d been given every advantage to make her mine.
I was the one with the money, the impeccable reputation, and harem of prospective girlfriends. And yet, I couldn’t get more than an eye roll from this woman.
“Honey, I thought it was established you can’t handle me.”
Low whistles emerged from the thickening crowd forming around us. It seemed like half the goddamn cruise ship was watching. I waited for the dread of being caught doing something less than perfect to sour my insides, but it didn’t happen.
I’d never felt more alive than I did in that moment.
“Try me,” I drawled.
“Make that three hundred a grand.” She lurched her chin to the money between us.
“And when you lose?”