Anomaly451: One day, when you’re ready, I can move into your homestead, and then you won’t be alone anymore. I’m a kickass scout, and between my gift for strategy and your spellcasting abilities, we’ll be unbeatable!
Anomaly451: #HOGPowerCouple!
Anomaly451: Which reminds me, what are you up to next weekend? I’m working remotely at the end of the week. I could be in Tennessee by Friday. We could celebrate V-Day in a whole new way. Lolol. *eggplant emoji*
Anomaly451: I want to know what you look like. And I respect our promise not to google each other or send pictures, but a man has needs. *eggplant emoji* *eggplant emoji*
Anomaly451: Plus we can quest together while I’m there! If you and I team up, I can qualify for the Ascendant’s Class in the Conqueror’s Tournament at HOGCon in Vegas in a couple weeks. You’re going, right? Because the new HOG Power Couple needs to form an alliance!! We’re gonna dominate.
Anomaly451: Hello? Earth to Kev?
Anomaly451: Guess you fell asleep without saying goodbye.
Anomaly451: When we meet in person, I’ll have to make sure to keep you awake. *eggplant emoji* *eggplant emoji* *eggplant emoji* Let me know about this weekend!
My stomach flipped. Next weekend was very soon.
Possibly too soon for all that eggplant.
But the tournament at HOGCon… Hmm.
I’d considered playing in the tournament more than once. Despite having some of the highest posted scores in the game, and maybe the highest number of game-play hours (Hux and I were usually neck and neck at the top of the leaderboard), I’d never competed in an in-person prizewinning tournament before. Social anxiety was a bitch sometimes.
But if Adam and I were boyfriends, a HOG power couple, and we could meet in Vegas, away from prying eyes and rogue badasses…
I toyed with the corner of my glasses nervously.
Anomaly451: I have quite a bit of work to do today, so I’ve got to go, but starting the day talking with you is the best thing I could have hoped for, sugar. XOXO
Damn it. I’d wasted my time chatting with Smitty and being annoyed at Hux when I should’ve been focused on the guy who actually cared about me. Story of my damn life.
I read the message again and again. Sugar. I didn’t know anyone who used that endearment unironically in real life, but I decided I liked it.
I typed out a message he could read next time he logged on.
HogDocKev: Sorry I missed saying goodbye. Good luck with your work! Let’s talk about Vegas!
I stared at the screen some more, thankful I was alone so no one could see the giant grin on my face. And then another message popped up on my screen.
SmittyKitty: Thank you for the dice, I guess.
SmittyKitty: FYI, someone (not me) crossed your border and is looting your magical jelly and jam cellars. I think it might be the Hux guy you mentioned. Now you and I are even. Have fun storming the castle, Pip.
What the…
I clicked over to the correct monitor and found the orc horde that was supposed to be guarding that section of my property wasn’t just ringed by heart-shaped fairy lights anymore, they’d been tied up with them.
Meanwhile, HogMasterHux was systematically—nay, gleefully—destroying my carefully organized jelly cellar, upending a ten-gallon drum of boysenberry preserves to the delight of my champagne-drunk villagers.
What. The. Fuck.
He thought I was the attention-seeking child around here? Me?
Ohhhh, the lasers in the kitchen were so happening. But first, I was going to march up there and—
“Pardon me, sire,” Henry Cavill interrupted politely as my monitors flashed. “But your scan is now complete, and an ongoing vulnerability has been detected.”
I clicked over to the tool I’d been running, and my heart sank when I saw the system vulnerability the computer had found.
Fuck.
This was going to make Huxley miserable, which should have made me happy. Instead, it was the absolute last thing I wanted to see.
Hux and I were going to be stuck with each other for even longer.
2
HUX
“Don’t listen to him. He’s about as close to a cybersecurity expert as that ham sandwich you’re picking at,” I said, trying for the millionth time to dissuade my boss, my coworkers, and the assorted other people in the Rogers family’s kitchen from giving any credence to the warnings Kev was spouting.
Kev ignored me. He folded his arms and leaned back against the kitchen counter—white marble, naturally, because the Rogers family had only the best—looking annoyingly cute and approachable with his lean frame, artfully messy hair, and dark-framed glasses that had probably cost more than my truck.
Meanwhile, I was still recovering from back-to-back sleepless nights and yesterday’s impromptu afternoon housewarming party for Champ and his boyfriend, who were officially shacking up in the historic Victorian Champ had recently renovated. It was a Monday morning, but I looked and felt about as fresh as week-old flowers, which had put me in a not-great mood.