Page 93 of Renegade Rift
“Fuck,” he growls and I love reducing him to the primal curse. “You can’t say my name like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like you’d rather have a repeat of how hard you came to the sound of my voice than allow me to open that door.”
Shit.
My lips part, and I’m about to tell him to cancel our date. I'd rather stay in with him, but then Ford chuckles and steps back, effectively ending whatever could have been.
“You win, for now. Mostly because Smitty won’t knock again before he just barges in. But for the record, this conversation isn’t over.” He leans down and presses a kiss to my cheek, his lips far softer than any man’s should be. “Now let’s roll some dice, love.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
JULIET
Who would have thought I’d be the one eating every single joke I made about Ford playingDungeons and Dragons?
Do I understand the rules? Nope.
Am I lost every time I roll these gorgeous dice? Yup.
But am I having the time of my life, playing this make-believe game with Ford and his friends? Absolutely.
As is each person at the table.
Smitty—the rookie who has seen my boobs—is a rogue. Which I’m pretty sure is some kind of spy since he keeps trying to be sneaky and steal all the gold from everyone we meet. Then there’s Espinoza, the other teammate who’s seen my boobs, and he’s a bard, who wields a magical guitar and tries to sleep with everyone we meet. Kiefer—Jo’s husband— is a fighter who is a pacifist. Which would be funny on its own, but is down-right hilarious because his wife is a cleric with a sentient vampiric sword that demands she take the lives of her enemies. And last but not least, are Stone—the Renegades first baseman—and his best friend Dax. They are twin Elven monks who hate each other until you mess with their brother. Then they’ll kick your ass.
They’re a party of misfits that shouldn’t work, and yet I’m in awe at the way they roleplay their characters and embody them.It’s a little intimidating.
Then there’s Ford. Sitting behind his little pop-up screen, orchestrating the entire mission to rid the city of a monster in the sewers that keeps stealing children from their beds.
It’s a little dark, but when it’s make believe, I’m learning it doesn’t matter.
Because Ford was right. That’s what makes this game so much fun. You can say and do whatever you want to do and not a single person at this table is going to judge you for it. Sure, they might give you shit about it, but then they move on and see if they can do something just as unhinged or chaotic.
I look down at the grid mat that was blank when I first saw it, now covered in little boulders, trees and other props Ford put out to set the stage, along with mini figurines for each of our characters and a big eyeball monster with eight other eye tentacles branching off of it.
Espinoza throws up his hand like he’s a great and powerful bard and shouts. “I cast Vicious Mockery!”
“And what, pray tell, do you say?” Ford encourages, as he rolls a dice behind the screen to check and see if the spell takes.
“I look him right in his middle eye and say,I’d like to see things from your point of view, but I can’t get my head that far up my ass.”
Smitty and Dax laugh, while the rest of us shake our heads.
“Roll for damage,” Ford says.
Espinoza rolls his dice and proudly lifts his chin. “Six.”
“The beholder is looking real rough, but it’s still holding.” Fordlooks down at his paper to see who gets to attack the monster next. “Juliet, it’s your turn.”
My eyes go wide, just as they have every single time it circles back to me. And like every other time, Ford reaches out under the table, places a hand on my knee and gives a reassuring squeeze. If anyone else notices, they don’t say anything. Just like they didn’t mention it when he kept a hand at the small of my back as he introduced me to each of them, or the way his eyes always come back to me, making sure I’m okay.
Across from me, Dax leans over the table and dramatically lifts a tattoo covered hand to hide his words from Ford. “Tell him you want to rage.”
I mirror his antics, pretending like Ford can’t hear us. “What’s that?”
“Oh yeah,” Jo echoes from beside me. “Say you want to rage.”
