Page 70 of The Doctors Will See You Now

“Don’t be too sad when you lose,” he added, and I could literally hear the smile in his voice.

“Uh-huh. Whatever you say, Will.”

The man didn’t know what was coming. My childhood years scouring antique shops with my grandmother had gotten me ready for this moment. And dammit, I would be victorious…with a mouthful of egg rolls.

And then, like God himself had opened the gates of champion’s heaven, I spotted my winning item inside of a wooden box lying on the floor near the stairs that led up to the shop’s storage space.

There they sat, like the golden ticket for Chinese takeout, Russian flight goggles.

Let the winning commence!

“Get ready to feel like a loser!” I shouted victoriously and looked toward the front of the shop, but Will was nowhere to be found.

Where in the hell did he go?

Not even a minute later, my phone chirped inside my pocket with a text message, and I immediately pulled it out to read.

Will: Meet me outside. But I should warn you, prepare yourself for defeat.

Me: Did you already pay for it?

Will: No. I stole it.

He didn’t give me any time to respond before firing off another text.

Will: Kidding. Of course, I fucking paid for it. Lol. Get your item and bring that cute little ass outside. I’m ready to taste victory.

Me: You’re minutes away from having to eat those words.

It was on like Donkey Kong, and I was at the register and checking out in two minutes flat.

“Do you want a bag?” the clerk asked me, and I shook my head.

“No thanks,” I said, and without any explanation, I took the Russian flight goggles from his hands and slid them securely over my eyes.

“Groovy,” he said with a smirk.

“Definitely groovy,” I agreed and strolled out of the shop entrance with a confident pep in my step.

But the instant my goggle-covered eyes met Will, standing proudly on the sidewalk without a care in the world, I stopped in my tracks.

You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.

He stood like a caped Adonis in the middle of the pavement. No, seriously, he had a cape. A goddamn black, floor-length cape adorned with skulls and crossbones and an inverted white stitch on the seams.

“Nice goggles,” he said with a proud smile.

Jesus with a juice box, it was the coolest fucking cape I’d ever seen in my life, and I didn’t know how I’d missed that trophy of vintage inside the shop.

“Cool cape,” I muttered petulantly as I walked toward him, my stupid Russian flight goggles starting to feel like a cheap pair of sunglasses.

Seriously? How did I miss that cape?

The instant my body was within reaching distance of his arms, he pulled me toward him and cocooned me beneath the cape and against his chest. “It’s okay, Mel,” he whispered into my ear. “You don’t even have to say that I’m the winner.”

“Shut up.”

“But,” he continued on a whisper. “Since I’m a stickler for rules, you need to know that I’ll be eating your little cunt for dinner.”