Mr. Bossy Devil - Lindsey Hart Page 0,16

couch. She has that look of total concentration, which hasn’t changed over the years.

I count one last time, and when our hands make the signs, I can’t believe it. She chose scissors, and I chose rock. I actually won!

“You cheated!” Zoe yells. She leaps off the couch, her eyes blazing fire, one finger pointed roughly in my face. “You…you…”

That’s as far as she gets before the lights flicker once, twice, and plunge us into total darkness.

CHAPTER 6

Zoe

No one beats me at rock, paper, scissors. No. One. I am literally the rock, paper, scissors queen. And Raiden never beat me once. Okay, rarely. It’s only rarely, but now, when it really counted, this asshosoris rex just took me down.

It turns out divine retribution or karma or just bad universal energy or whatever it is out there is swift and just because the whole house plunges into immediate darkness.

I don’t know much about Raiden anymore, but I do know he has always had this irrational and crippling fear of the dark.

I can tell that, in about one point eight seconds flat, the asshosoris rex starts having a meltdown. He used to do this when we were kids, and I seriously thought he would have grown out of it as an adult, but I recognize the heavy breathing. I can practically hear his nostrils opening and closing as they flare wildly, the sucking sound of indrawn breath filling up the room.

I’d think Raiden was playing me if his fear didn’t have an almost acrid smell to it. It’s real, and it’s vulnerable.

I could use it to my advantage, but I’ve never been the seedy, mega-asshole type of person. Instead of pressing Raiden’s buttons or just up and telling him I quit and leaving him to the darkness and the rest of his overcompensating life, I bend forward, dig in my purse, and grab my phone. One quick swipe across the screen and I have my phone’s flashlight up and running.

When I sweep the beam of light over Raiden’s annoyingly perfect face, he relaxes visibly, and his nostrils stop flaring. His breathing hitches a little but then goes back to normal. His shoulders deflate as all the tension seeps out. There’s this evil part of me that makes me think I might indeed have some lurking assholeness hidden away somewhere, which makes me want to comment on the fact that Raiden is a grown, thirty-two-year-old man, and the dark shouldn’t be so scary in his own house, but thankfully, the good parts of me win out. I’m not someone who likes to make fun of other people’s insecurities, and not just because it’s rude or because I wouldn’t like it if someone did it to me. I just think it would seriously be a dick move, and dick moves aren’t cool.

At this point, I barely think dicks are cool. The anatomy, I mean. Hmm, on second thought, maybe Raiden’s dick might be cool. Okay, STOP. Not going there.

“Thanks,” Raiden mutters. “For the flashlight.” He suddenly seems to remember he has a phone too, and he pulls something large and expensive-looking (what’s new?) out of his back pocket.

I literally feel my eyebrows shoot up because I have no idea how he jammed a device that size into his ass pocket and then sat on it. He gets his flashlight up and running, and then we both sit there, bathed in twin beams of artificially golden light. It’s not the same aura as a candle, and it’s also far less romantic when using a flashlight.

Not that I’m going for romance here.

Romance and I don’t get along, which is all Raiden’s fault. Or mostly. It’s mostly his fault, perhaps at least 78.3554% his fault.

“I’m quitting,” I state flatly. “Rock, paper, scissors isn’t a real contract, and I’m pretty sure you cheated.”

“I didn’t cheat. How does one even cheat at something like that?”

I don’t know if it’s my imagination, the whisky, just my crazy stupid hormones acting up, or the fact that my old bat cave hasn’t exactly seen a lot of action lately, but Raiden’s already handsome face looks even more chiseled and angular in the glow of the flashlight. Let me just say shadows are definitely this guy’s friend. They up his attractive edginess by like a thousand points. I’m not exactly sure what the rating system is because I don’t like to think of my ex-stepbrother in those terms, or really anyone, because I’ve never been someone who gives people points based on looks as