Lie to Me (Pearl Island Trilogy #4)(32)

“Here, I’ll carry that.” He stood to take the heavy looking tray.

“I got it,” she insisted. “You get the wine.”

Grabbing both glasses and the bottle, he followed her outside. The sun had sunk lower while they’d been inside, casting the woods in early evening shadow. As they reached the deck on the side of the cottage, the trees opened up, allowing a spectacular view of the cove below. The sunset painted the sky and water in shades of yellow and peach.

“Man,” he breathed in awe, going to the rail to take it all in. “It must really suck to live here.”

“Most definitely,” she agreed.

He turned to find her setting the tray on a coffee table before a daybed that looked perfect for lounging on lazy days. A multitude of pillows added splashes of color while the gauzy curtains along the far side of the deck lent an air of whimsy.

“Spend a lot of time out here?”

“A little,” Chloe admitted in an understatement. She picked up a book of matches and lit several fat candles in glass holders that sat on tall stands. Enjoying the way he watched her, she went to the daybed and settled into one corner.

“It’s a great space,” he said, looking at her as if he couldn’t see anything else.

“Are you going to join me?” She tilted her head.

He took a seat at the opposite end of the daybed, holding out her glass of wine. “Here.”

“Thank you.” She intentionally grazed her fingers over his as she took the glass. “So,” she said, looking into his eyes. “Where should we start?”

He blinked. “Excuse me?”

“With the food,” she clarified innocently, turning to the spread on the coffee table.

“Oh, yes, of course.” Color stained his cheeks. He’d grown more comfortable around her during their tour of the island, but she could tell he still felt awkward. That tempted her to play the seducer, but she wanted to put him at ease, not scare him off.

“Let’s see if my feta dip tastes as good today as it did when I made it.” Selecting a stick of celery, she dredged it through the creamy dip and took a bite. The crisp celery released an explosion of moisture in her mouth to mix with the tangy, spicy dip. “Mmm, even better. Try some.”

He gave it a try with a carrot stick and nodded in approval. “Really good.”

While they enjoyed the food, he asked her about life in Galveston and working at a B and B. The first stars came out as the color faded from the sky.

“It’s so nice out here,” she sighed, enjoying the sound of the breeze through the trees. The candlelight danced about them, cocooning them in a pool of light.

“More wine?” he asked, lifting the bottle.

“Yes, please.” When he’d refilled her glass, she turned sideways to face him. Leaning against the arm of the daybed, she slipped her toes under his thigh to warm them. “Do you mind? My feet are getting chilly.”

“Not at all.” He looked pleased. “Comfy?”

“Very,” she said, watching him take a bite of Spanish ham. “So, when are you going to show me how to play Vortal?”

He choked. “Uh. Well…” Coughing, he reached for his wine.

“Sorry.” She leaned forward and patted his back, feeling his amazingly toned body under his clothes.

“I’m okay.” He managed to get his breath. “It’s just, it’s um… It’s not as easy as showing you how to play. You have to create your alter ego first.”

“Sounds like fun. Let’s do that.”

“Now?” His eyes widened.

“Why not?”

“We can’t.” He looked oddly alarmed. “You can’t just do it in the blink of an eye. It takes hours. Some people work on it for days. The character you create is the one you’ll live with forever. Well, unless you decide to create a new one. Except, a lot of players never abandon their original character. It becomes part of who you are.”

“AJ didn’t take hours creating a character.” She frowned.

“That’s because I let him play as me. Or rather Blade.”

“Can I do that?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Why not?” She frowned in disappointment.

“You saw what happened,” he insisted. “I died. I rarely die anymore. Do you know what that will do to my average score?”

“Can’t you delete that game?”

“Deleting a bad game is against the rules.” He looked affronted at the mere suggestion. “We built in locks to prevent players from ever erasing a bad score for a character. If players could erase all their bad scores and only keep the good ones, average scores would be bunk. The only way for a player to wipe the slate clean is to abandon a character completely, and start from scratch with a new character. I can’t abandon Blade.”

“But you’re the programmer,” she pointed out. “Surely you can do anything you want.”

“There are ethics involved here.” He grew indignant. “A gamer’s code of honor.”

“Well, yeah, if you had actually been playing.” When he clamped his mouth shut, she narrowed her eyes at him. “You are so erasing that game,” she teased. “No way are you going to hurt your average score just because you let a six-year-old boy have a little fun.”