Page 32 of Any Port in a Storm

He looks at me like I’m more than a little daft. “Chess.”

“Right.” Cursing my lonely hormones for lusting after the past, I hop up and head to the closet. “I hope we’ll still be friends after I put you in an immediate checkmate.”

“You don’t have to worry about that,” he says sweetly.

“No?”

“Nope. Because there’s no way that’s going to happen.”

An hour later, Nick’s staring at the board like it’s an Enigma machine, and I’m scouring my hair for split ends.

“Does it really require this much concentration to decide which piece you’re going to move?” I whine.

He doesn’t even look up. “I have to consider all possible moves before I make any.”

“See, but you really don’t.”

Nick sighs in mock exasperation. “Laurel, it was your idea we play this game in the first place.”

“Yes. And I’d like to actually play the game.”

He rolls his eyes. “Patience is a virtue.”

“Ah, but it isn’t one of mine.” I toss him a saucy grin. “Want a drink?”

“Sure.” He’s got his head down, eye-level with a pawn again.

I walk to the kitchen. “So, tell me. What else is new with you?”

“Not too much. I’ve basically been working nonstop to get ready for the faculty changes next semester.”

“Well, that’s no good. Any chance CAS gave you a raise in appreciation of all your hard work?”

Nick shakes his head dramatically. “Not even a little bit.”

“Well, that sucks.” I hand him a soda. “Are you still doing that trivia league?” Last spring, Nick had started going to a local bar with Max for trivia nights. For most people, it might be an entertaining way to spend an evening, but for Nick and Max, it was something to study for and take altogether too seriously.

“We had been,” he says, taking a sip of Coke. “Not sure when we’ll get back there now. I’ve missed quite a few weeks lately, anyway.”

“Oh?”

He looks back down at the chessboard. “Just been busy.”

I raise a questioning brow. “With a lady friend?” I know I shouldn’t pry, but I’m also desperate to know how inappropriate Nick spending two weeks in my apartment might actually be.

A flush works its way up Nick’s cheeks. “No, Laurel. Not with a woman.”

“Okay. Sorry.”

He shrugs it off and slides his rook three spaces to the left. “Your turn.”

I don’t make a move toward my remaining six pieces. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

Nick drags his gaze to mine. “You didn’t.”

“Okay. Because you seem kind of flustered.”

He sets his soda can down a little harder than I think is strictly necessary. “I just don’t know that discussing our romantic entanglements is really the best idea.”