Page 90 of Not Your Ex's Hexes
Her brows lifted. “Are you sassing me, boy?”
“No, ma’am… just not sure who you think I am.”
“You’re the one with the sweet hog who took our Rose here for a ride the other night.”
Damian damn near choked on his own spit. He coughed, and earned himself a pat on the back from the smirking witch in question. “You okay there?”
“Yeah.” He wheezed slightly before finally clearing his throat and turning back to the older woman. “I do happen to have a motorcycle that I’m pretty fond of. I’ve had it for a long time.”
“It was parked out front of our apartment building all night the other night…”
Damn if his face didn’t feel warm. “Yes, I think it was.”
He shifted in his seat again until Rose’s arm brushed against his, the touch gifting him a little jolt.
“Greta, you’re making him uncomfortable.” Rose admonished the older woman with a humorous chuckle. “Didn’t we have a talk about this before he arrived?”
“I’m just seeing if the boy’s got chops. Gotta have chops if he’s gonna roll with the Maxwells.” Greta glanced to him. “Just so you know, you need to beef up yours a bit, son. They’re a bit underdeveloped.”
“Duly noted.”
Damian would’ve felt like he’d walked onto the set ofThe Twilight Zoneexcept for the fact that Rose’s vanilla scent invaded his senses, escalating to high-def when she leaned closer.
“Damian Adams, this is Greta Powers, my very nosy but well-meaning neighbor whom I inherited from Vi. And these handsome fellas,” Rose nodded to the two older men at the table, “are Henry Jansen and his husband, Otis.”
Damian nodded. “It’s nice to meet all of you.”
Henry passed him four empty cards. “So, Damian, what’s your game of choice? Old-School, Four-Square, Blackout?”
He leaned toward Rose. “Am I supposed to know what that means?”
She smirked. “They’re different versions of bingo.”
“Ah.” He turned back to Henry. “I guess I’m pretty old-school… all in a line, right?”
He also had no fucking clue what was involved with the other ones, but he soon found out, because as the next game started, histablemates wouldn’t hear of him sitting out and watching. Rose alternated between helping him keep up with the called numbers and chuckling as he struggled to keep up by himself.
And as if that wasn’t bad enough, his three new retired friends teased him every chance they got. Before long, he’d dished it back and found himself laughing with Rose and her odd group of friends more than he’d laughed in the last year.
He watched Rose as she scanned each of her boards—six of them—for the latest called number, her lip caught between her teeth as she concentrated.
He leaned close and whispered in her ear, “What I wouldn’t give to be that lip you’re nibbling, little witch.”
Her head spun toward him, caramel eyes wide. “What?”
“Bingo…” He smirked.
“Huh?”
Taking her hand that held her marker-stamp, he slowly stamped the O-69 on her top right card. “Bingo, little witch. And what a number to win it on.”
“Bingo?” Her cheeks flushed as she realized what he meant, both with the innuendo and the bit about the game. “Oh!Bingo. Bingo!”
She jumped up, waving her hand.
The announcer and his assistant continued with the next number until Greta slipped her fingers into the corners of her mouth and let out an earsplitting whistle. “Hey, Tooley, you big oaf! Our girl has a bingo here, so stop your yammering!”
Damian chuckled as Rose read off her numbered row before bounding up to the front to collect her prize. When she returned to their table, she showed it to him proudly, displaying it as if she were Vanna White.
