Page 31 of Quit Playing Games with My Heart

I blushed hot under his praise. Sam was so generous with praise. It was to the point where I was pretty sure I was developing some sort of praise kink. But could you blame me? After the way so many people had looked down on me for so much of my life, I soaked up kind words like a sponge.

“You know what else we should do?” I asked as we reached my apartment. “We should have one great big games night, on a Saturday or something, and invite everyone who’s ever attended either Tuesdays or Thursdays. We could bill it as a games night party. Maybe Hannah and her friend would even play a small concert for us. That’s when we should have the vote.”

“Did I say brilliant idea?” Sam smiled as I let go of his hand to fish my keys out of my pocket. “Because that is a brilliant idea.”

The brilliant idea was set in motion quickly. It was handy that Sam was part owner of Common Grounds and could schedule whatever he wanted on short notice. We worked hard to put together a few signs and notices to be handed out to the regulars on Tuesday and Thursday, then did the best we could to whip together a Saturday party. Hannah was more than happy to play, and by some miracle, Diccon managed to rope Theo into singing with her.

“I’ve been dying to get Theo to sing more ever since that first open mic night,” Diccon said as he helped me set up tables and games for the night.

“He’s got a great voice,” I said, ready to give anyone and everyone compliments, I was so happy.

The games night party was so well-attended that I almost worried we were breaking some sort of fire code. It was amazing to see so many familiar faces and to have everyone laughing and talking and getting to know each other. That was what Common Grounds was for, after all. The entire point of the café, whether it was beset by construction or not, was to bring people together.

I was proud of the fact that I’d found a way to contribute to the community and to help the Meyers family rise above the mess and impediment of construction to do that.

And speaking of the construction, I was surprised when none other than Kyle Jameson walked into the café dressed in jeans and a button-down just as the games were getting underway for the night. He took a few cautious steps into the heart of the café and looked around with a curious eye.

I wasn’t the only one to notice him, of course.

“What the hell is he doing here?” Gilbert muttered from where he’d been standing behind the counter, helping take orders during the first rush before people settled.

“He has as much of a right to be here as anyone else,” Sam warned him as Gilbert stepped out from behind the counter and strode purposefully toward him.

I shifted the way I stood to stand by Sam’s side as the two of us watched Gilbert walk right up to Jameson. “Are we going to need to intervene?” I asked quietly.

Sam just grunted.

“What are you doing here?” Gilbert asked Jameson, crossing his arms and standing like he would block Jameson from so much as looking around the café, let alone heading to the back to participate in any of the games.

Jameson’s benign look of curiosity turned into a challenging frown. “I thought this games night was open to the public,” he said.

“The public, yes,” Gilbert said, as if that didn’t include Jameson.

Jameson didn’t look the least bit intimidated, but there was a kind of fire in his eyes. “Then I’m here to play games,” he said, mirroring Gilbert’s stance. “You got a problem with that?”

“Yes, I’ve got a problem with that,” Gilbert snapped. “People who obstruct our business don’t have any right to enjoy the perks of that same business.”

Jameson made a show of looking around. “It doesn’t look like your business is suffering,” he said.

He had a point, and Gilbert probably knew it. Now that the initial, messy part of constructing the new addition next door was done, the noise and dirt level had gone down. The road was still partially blocked and the front of the café had reduced access, but I’d noticed that things had gotten slightly better.

Gilbert knew it, too, and he clearly wasn’t happy about it. “You and I need to settle this outside,” he said, then actually grabbed Jameson’s arm and marched him out of the café into the chilly night.

“What is going on there?” Diccon asked, sticking his head between where Sam and I stood close together from behind the counter.

“I don’t know,” Sam said, his mouth twitching up on one side, but it’s something we need to keep an eye on.”

I was sure he was right, but it wasn’t my drama to worry about. The only drama I wanted to worry about, if it could even be called drama at all, was how our patrons would decide who was the winner of the big games night idea competition.

“Hey, folks,” Sam called out over the tables of enthusiastic players once things really got going. “Thanks so much for coming to our games night party.”

A few people applauded, which sparked the others to applaud as well. I beamed under the show of support from all the people who had been strangers just a few weeks before.

“As you know, this whole games night idea was conceived by me and Brian here as a way to keep the community of Common Grounds thriving during construction of the new shop next door. It’s never easy to run a business like this, but it’s even harder with roadblocks and diminished foot traffic. So I want to thank you all for going out of your way to make the café a place where you want to be on a random weeknight.”

“No, thank you,” Katie called out from the table with her college friends.

“Yeah,” one of the newer regulars echoed her. “We love coming here. I didn’t know this place existed before.”