Page 67 of Wild Heart

They rolled, looked at their choices, and Ivy said, “Well, we already have the yellow wedge, so I guess we’re going with orange, which is sports. Liam, this is going to be all you.”

Marco read their question. “What is it called when you score three goals in a hockey game?”

“Oh, crap. You don’t watch hockey, do you, Liam?”

“I do not,” he said.

“Great. I have no clue.”

“Just because I don’t watch it doesn’t mean I don’t know anything about it,” Liam shared. Ivy twisted her neck so fast, her eyes nearly falling out of her head. Liam smiled at his sister. “It’s a hat trick.”

“A hat trick?” Returning her attention to Marco, she asked, “Is that right?”

“It is.”

“Sweet. Great job, Liam.”

“Thanks.”

While Ivy worked on getting their wedge added to their game piece, Tate leaned toward me, holding out the die. “Would you like to do this round?”

“Okay.”

I really didn’t care, but I found myself eager for any bit of touch I could experience. My hand touching his wasn’t much, but it was something. It was pitiful how quickly and easily I craved Tate’s touch again. But that was my body—and maybe my heart—reacting. My head was a bit more resistant and not so willing to cave to him.

I rolled. “History or sports. I hate history, so I will be absolutely no help there. What do you think?”

“Let’s do sports, then,” he replied nonchalantly.

“Are you sure? Would you rather do history?”

Tate shook his head. “Sports are fine.”

“Okay. Sports, please,” I said, turning my attention to Ivy.

“This is the most ridiculous question for you,” she griped. “True or false? A ballet dancer uses both feet for a pirouette.”

I turned to face Tate and saw the amused look in his eyes. Warmth spread through me, warmth that had nothing to do with knowing the right answer and that we’d maintain our position in the current game ranking. “Do you know the answer?”

“I think you do, wild one.”

The words came out slow, purposeful. There was more meaning behind those words than should have been in this scenario.

A flush of heat crept over my skin. Was he crazy? As much as I loved it when he called me that, I didn’t need him saying it in front of his whole family when things were still unsettled between us. Sure, we were getting back on track, but we weren’t there yet. I wasn’t sure I could face his family.

When I kept my horrified eyes on him and said nothing, he leaned close, settled a hand on my thigh, and asked, “Is it true or false?”

“It’s false,” I whispered, keeping my face hidden behind my hands while I failed to ignore the way it felt to have him resting his hand on my thigh.

Tate didn’t remove his palm. In fact, he squeezed my thigh reassuringly as he declared, “False.”

Though there had been plenty of banter and talking throughout the game, it seemed Tate’s words and actions had rendered just about everybody speechless. The silence in the room was deafening.

“Oh, kids, I almost forgot. I made a special dessert for all of you tonight. Who wants some cookies? There’re red velvet shortbread, classic peanut butter, and butter cookies. How about an intermission on the game while you grab a treat?” Wendy suggested.

If I wasn’t so embarrassed, I would have jumped up and kissed her.

“Sounds great to me,” Rhea said, clearly understanding what Wendy was attempting to accomplish.