From her spot near the coffee table, Delaney started laughing.
I asked, "What's so funny?"
"You," she said. "Are you seriously afraid to admit it?"
It took me a moment to recall what she'd last said. "That I'd cream you in poker?" I laughed in spite of myself. "Oh, I'd definitely cream you."
"Yeah, well…" Her gaze drifted to the coffee table. "I'd cream you in Scrabble."
I was intrigued. "You sure about that?"
She hesitated. "Pretty sure."
"Because you're a writer?"
"No, because I've played it like a million times."
I flicked my chin toward the game in question. "So you wanna play it again?"
"This isn't about me," she said. "I'm still trying to guess your favorite."
"Maybe my favorite is your favorite."
"But that's no kind of answer. And besides, I never said Scrabble was my favorite."
"So, what is?"
"Maybe I don't have a favorite." She paused, as if thinking. "I guess it depends on my mood."
"So, what are you in the mood for now?" I gestured toward the games. "If you had to play one, which one would you pick?"
Looking a little sheepish, she said, "Probably Monopoly."
The answer surprised me. "Yeah?"
"But we can't, because it takes forever." She glanced down at the unopened box. "I'd probably still be here at midnight."
Midnight, huh? I smiled. "You say that like it's a problem."
"Well, wouldn't it be?" Her voice grew quiet. "I'm sure you didn't expect coffee to last the whole day."
I leaned forward. "So what you're saying is…you're afraid you'll lose."
"What?" Her lips twitched. "No." She gave a playful jerk of her chin. "I would totally cream you."
I grinned. "You sure about that?"
This made her laugh. "No. But I wouldn't mind trying."
25
Fake Money, Real Questions
Maddox
Delaney gave a dramatic groan. "Oh, my God. Talk about terrible luck." She looked genuinely distressed, which made no sense whatsoever.
With a chuckle, I said, "But not for you." I'd just landed on Boardwalk, where Delaney had earlier planted two little plastic houses, jacking up the rent to a lofty six-hundred dollars.