Page 53 of The Reluctant Roommate

Heidi finished her pie and put the plate on the floor. “Thank you. That was an amazing meal. My best Thanksgiving dinner ever!”

“One out of one isn’t bad.”

“Seriously, I don’t think we can top that. Even though I burned the brussels sprouts.”

“I still think you did that deliberately.” A beat. “And I’m not sorry. They’re not my favorite vegetable, but I couldn’t get beans.”

“Are they anyone’s favorite? But it wasn’t deliberate. Fiona gave me the recipe to pan-fry and glaze them. I just left them on the heat too long. I hope the pan cleans up okay. I’ll replace it if it doesn’t.”

Morgan nodded. That was fair. She ate a piece of her untouched pie. How could Heidi have finished hers already?

Then Heidi groaned and stretched, and the zipper on her jeans parted another inch. “I need pants with an elastic waistband.”

“Don’t worry on my account. I quite like looking at—” Where had that come from? Heat crawled up Morgan’s neck. Yes, she was enjoying looking at the curve of Heidi’s belly. And now, with that extra inch of undone zipper, a strip of magenta panties showed in the vee of the jeans. Just ordinary panties, nothing fancy. A glimpse of a wide elastic band with the manufacturer’s name printed in silver. Chain store panties, made for comfort, not for seduction.

But still.

Heidi froze. “You’re looking at my underwear? That’s okay. We’re all friends here, aren’t we.”

She rested a hand on Morgan’s leg, just above the knee, and squeezed, then released, leaving her hand on Morgan’s thigh.

It was like a heat pad resting on her leg. She was instantly aware of the weight of Heidi’s palm, how it curved around herinner thigh, the imprint of each finger. But this didn’t mean anything. It was just a casual thing, wasn’t it? Heidi called them friends, and Morgan supposed that they were. And in Heidi’s world, it seemed friends were physical. It didn’t mean Heidi wanted to kiss her again, wanted to take up where they’d left off in Oscar’s Tavern, half tipsy from happy hour wine, common sense blurred like melting snowflakes down a window.

No. It certainly wasn’t that.

She looked away, over to the fire crackling in the grate. Anywhere except at Heidi’s hand on her leg.

“So, a walk is off the cards. What else do you do on Thanksgiving?”

“Play board games.”

“So do our family at Christmas. Oh! I know. Don’t go away.”

Heidi lifted her hand from Morgan’s leg and scurried over to the bookcase where Morgan kept her small collection of board games. A minute later, she was back.

“Jenga? After a bottle of wine? Really?”

“That’s the fun of it. Trying to remove a block when you’re laughing, the tower is wobbling, and you’ve had way too much wine to make it work. But, then again, some of our family’s greatest Jenga towers have been after Christmas dinner, port, and chocolate teddy-bear biscuits.”

Morgan wasn’t going to ask what the latter was. The Jenga game still sounded like a disaster waiting to happen, but, if it made Heidi happy... “We can give it a go. Better be on the table, though.”

Heidi took the game across and tipped out the blocks, then built the tower. “You go first.”

Morgan inclined her head and removed an end block from the middle of the tower before placing it on top.

Heidi rested the heel of her hand on the table and eased a center block from the very base of the tower.

With a grin and a steady push, Morgan removed the middle block from the level above the bottom.

The game flowed easily for several more turns until the more obvious blocks had gone. Heidi took her time on the next move, tapping a couple of blocks to see if they’d move before pushing out an edge block from the middle.

Morgan kept her eye on a block on the other edge. If she managed that one, it would destabilize the tower, making it harder for Heidi to win. “Double or nothing on the result of the snow-shoveling race?”

“You’d better explain.” Heidi folded her arms. “I can’t clean up after two Thanksgiving dinners. What happens if I lose?”

“You think you will?” Morgan tutted. “Where’s your self-confidence?”

“It’s high. I’m a Jenga queen. Name the stakes.”