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Dad scowls when the engine revs yet again. He throws the pencil down and stomps across the room, grabbing his coat off the rack in the entryway. “I need a drink.”
I'm just sayin' that it's Florida. The kids were outside sweating just a little while ago, and the dad is grabbing his coat?
“You should sign up for the games, if you’re feeling up to it. It’d be nice to put up more of a fight for once.” His laugh makes my skin crawl. “We could make things interesting. Like we used to.” He quirks an eyebrow, and the tension in the room skyrockets. “You win, I pay off that last bit of your mortgage. Shouldn’t be all that much, right? Considering how much you paid for it.” My stomach churns at the fact that he doesn’t consider thousands of dollars that much money. “And if I win, you let me buy it off of you.” He holds his palm up in front of Dad for a shake. “Fair and square.”
Who in the world puts up their HOME as ante in a stupid neighborhood game? This premise almost stopped me from continuing to read this book. Stupid.
