Not Your Ex's Hexes (Supernatural Singles, #2)(76)
He cocked an eyebrow and couldn’t help but chuckle. “A wild night out at the retirement hall? Doing what? Playing chess? Shuffleboard?”
She scoffed and looped her arm through his and led the way inside. “Shuffleboard is for amateurs. You haven’t lived through an extreme game until you’ve bingo’d with the most lethal bingo players this side of the Hudson River. And I’ll have you know, there’s no one more lethal about bingo than the people through these doors.”
He almost asked her to repeat herself when they stepped into a large hall. Rows of tables filled the room, lined up like a bingo hall army, and front and center stood the general, with bushy white hair, speaking loudly into a crackling microphone.
“B-seven,” he announced. “B … seven.”
The senior citizens mumbled at their tables, some as they enthusiastically stamped their colored markers onto the cards in front of them. Others grumbled, not finding the called number. Bingo.
“Your lively night involves numbered squares and pretzel bowls?” He shot her a coy look.
“Do not judge this night by the game or the snacks. I’ll have you know that this crowd can be seriously cutthroat.” She fought against a forming grin, pulling him to a gentle stop. “I need to know that you can handle this, doc. It’s not for the faint of heart, and you definitely don’t want to divert your attention for longer than a second or else they’ll sense your weakness and go in for the kill.”
“Are we still talking about bingo, or some show on Animal Planet?” Damian chuckled.
“You jest, but I’ll have you know that both are extremely entertaining ways to pass the time.”
“You know what else is entertaining?” He leaned close, and dropped his voice to a low rumble. “Sex.”
Her lips quirked. “Well then, I’m glad I could expand your entertainment activities repertoire by one more.”
A familiar older Norm woman glanced up from a nearby table and waved.
Rose grabbed his hand, their fingers reflexively entwining as she led the way to the table and took one of the empty seats. She patted the one next to her. “Sit and stay a while. Be entertained. And let’s see how lucky you’ll get tonight.”
The double entendre didn’t pass without his notice, and they both broke into soft chuckles, his growing more amused by the second. He’d barely sat his ass down when the woman from outside Rose’s building narrowed her gray eyes on him.
“You’re him, huh?” She pursed her lips, studying him as if he were a bug under a microscope.
A quick glance to Rose revealed nothing as she pulled unused bingo boards from a stack and laid them out in front of her. Damian shifted awkwardly in his seat. “Depends on the him you’re talking about, ma’am,” he said politely.
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 of The Twilight Zone except 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, his tablemates 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.