Read Online The Orange Cat & other Cainsville tales by Kelley Armstrong - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Kelley Armstrong
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to win a certain game?”
“Yep.” He leaned back in his chair and took a hit from his beer bottle. “And, on that note, I’ve decided we need stakes. There should be a penalty for the loser.”
“Mmm. I don’t know. I hate to penalize you.”
“Oh, not me. I refused a free exception, remember? I’m not the one going down.”
“No, I believe I was.”
He chuckled. “True, but the point is that I exercised a serious feat of restraint. I will win this game, and when you concede, there is a price to be paid.” He handed me a folded scrap of paper. “The penalty. In writing. Just so there’s no mistake or misunderstanding. This is what will happen when you say ‘forfeit.’”
I unfolded the paper and read what he’d written.
“This—” I sputtered. “This isn’t a penalty. It’s a bribe .”
“That’s open to interpretation.”
“Interpretation?” I waved the paper. “If I surrender, you’ll—”
“—have to punish you.”
“Punish me? I don’t see spanking on this list, Ricky.”
“Well, that’s not usually your thing, but sure, pass it over, and I’ll add that on.”
I folded the paper and put it into my pocket. “Oh, no. Two can play this game.”
I took the notepad and pen from my bag.
Five minutes later, Ricky said, “Are you writing a novel?”
“Just one scene. One very detailed scene. Of what you will get when you concede defeat.”
“Fuck.”
“Naturally, but that’s at the end. I’m nowhere near the end.”
I kept writing until I’d finished my drink . . . and filled both sides of the page. Then I handed it to him. He started reading. He kept reading.
Watching his expression was fun. Possibly even more fun than watching him with the water fae. Finally, he set the paper down and swore under his breath.
“Do you want to forfeit now?” I asked.
He took a deep breath and glanced at the page. “Shit.”
“Admittedly, you are at an academic disadvantage. You’re an MBA student. You drafted a very persuasive offer. However, it lacked the attention to detail that the Victorian Lit grad could bring to the task.”
He tapped the paper. “Pretty sure the Victorians weren’t doing this.”
“Oh, they were. They even wrote about it. Those just weren’t the books they gave you in high school.”
He picked up the page. Skimmed it. Set it down again. Groaned.
“You can forfeit now,” I said. I checked my watch. “Our room at the inn will be ready shortly. I’ll just need a few minutes to pick up the necessary props.”
“Fuck.”
“Is that a yes?”
Another skim of the pages. He inhaled. Then he squared his shoulders and folded the paper in quarters.
“Yeah, sorry, but if I say yes to this”—he tapped the note—“the noise alone will get us kicked out, and there isn’t another vacancy in town.”
“True.”
I reached to take the page back, but he put it into his pocket. “Keeping it. Possibly laminating it.”
I chuckled. “Well, the offer stands, whenever you wish to forfeit. And in the meantime, since it is indeed check-in time, might I suggest another game? One that won’t quite achieve the end result we’re both looking for. But it will build up an appetite for the eventual meal.”
He motioned for me to go on. I leaned over to tell him, but he handed me the pen instead.
“Write it down,” he said. “I’m starting a scrapbook.”
Five - Ricky
“I’m so sorry,” the innkeeper said. “I know check-in is at four, but your room isn’t ready.”
Ricky’s first thought was to confirm that this was indeed the only local place with a vacancy. Well, no, his first thought was of the second page tucked into his pocket, the one outlining Liv’s proposal for predinner amusement. Then, on thinking of that, he wanted to know if there was another room in town, preferably close by. Very close by.
Liv beat him to it with, “Is there another room? Any room?”
“There’s a small one on the first floor, but it doesn’t have
“Yep.” He leaned back in his chair and took a hit from his beer bottle. “And, on that note, I’ve decided we need stakes. There should be a penalty for the loser.”
“Mmm. I don’t know. I hate to penalize you.”
“Oh, not me. I refused a free exception, remember? I’m not the one going down.”
“No, I believe I was.”
He chuckled. “True, but the point is that I exercised a serious feat of restraint. I will win this game, and when you concede, there is a price to be paid.” He handed me a folded scrap of paper. “The penalty. In writing. Just so there’s no mistake or misunderstanding. This is what will happen when you say ‘forfeit.’”
I unfolded the paper and read what he’d written.
“This—” I sputtered. “This isn’t a penalty. It’s a bribe .”
“That’s open to interpretation.”
“Interpretation?” I waved the paper. “If I surrender, you’ll—”
“—have to punish you.”
“Punish me? I don’t see spanking on this list, Ricky.”
“Well, that’s not usually your thing, but sure, pass it over, and I’ll add that on.”
I folded the paper and put it into my pocket. “Oh, no. Two can play this game.”
I took the notepad and pen from my bag.
Five minutes later, Ricky said, “Are you writing a novel?”
“Just one scene. One very detailed scene. Of what you will get when you concede defeat.”
“Fuck.”
“Naturally, but that’s at the end. I’m nowhere near the end.”
I kept writing until I’d finished my drink . . . and filled both sides of the page. Then I handed it to him. He started reading. He kept reading.
Watching his expression was fun. Possibly even more fun than watching him with the water fae. Finally, he set the paper down and swore under his breath.
“Do you want to forfeit now?” I asked.
He took a deep breath and glanced at the page. “Shit.”
“Admittedly, you are at an academic disadvantage. You’re an MBA student. You drafted a very persuasive offer. However, it lacked the attention to detail that the Victorian Lit grad could bring to the task.”
He tapped the paper. “Pretty sure the Victorians weren’t doing this.”
“Oh, they were. They even wrote about it. Those just weren’t the books they gave you in high school.”
He picked up the page. Skimmed it. Set it down again. Groaned.
“You can forfeit now,” I said. I checked my watch. “Our room at the inn will be ready shortly. I’ll just need a few minutes to pick up the necessary props.”
“Fuck.”
“Is that a yes?”
Another skim of the pages. He inhaled. Then he squared his shoulders and folded the paper in quarters.
“Yeah, sorry, but if I say yes to this”—he tapped the note—“the noise alone will get us kicked out, and there isn’t another vacancy in town.”
“True.”
I reached to take the page back, but he put it into his pocket. “Keeping it. Possibly laminating it.”
I chuckled. “Well, the offer stands, whenever you wish to forfeit. And in the meantime, since it is indeed check-in time, might I suggest another game? One that won’t quite achieve the end result we’re both looking for. But it will build up an appetite for the eventual meal.”
He motioned for me to go on. I leaned over to tell him, but he handed me the pen instead.
“Write it down,” he said. “I’m starting a scrapbook.”
Five - Ricky
“I’m so sorry,” the innkeeper said. “I know check-in is at four, but your room isn’t ready.”
Ricky’s first thought was to confirm that this was indeed the only local place with a vacancy. Well, no, his first thought was of the second page tucked into his pocket, the one outlining Liv’s proposal for predinner amusement. Then, on thinking of that, he wanted to know if there was another room in town, preferably close by. Very close by.
Liv beat him to it with, “Is there another room? Any room?”
“There’s a small one on the first floor, but it doesn’t have
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