1Love Redesigned (Lakefront Billionaires, #1)(72)

Someone slams the mallet against the plate, and the bell at the top of the high striker game rings like a death knell. This game was Julian’s favorite, so I usually passed on playing it solely because I knew I could never hit the bell like he did.

“I’m down one arm.”

“Is your good one acting up? It wasn’t an issue for the other eight games.”

My eye twitches.

“Do you want to go first?” He offers me the mallet.

“Take it away.” I motion toward the base. Despite knowing I lost, I plan on being a good sport about it and at least trying my hand.

He modifies his grip before slamming the mallet down against the metal base. To no one’s shock, the metal piece shoots up toward the top and smashes into the bell.

“Winner.” The game attendee offers Julian a choice from the wall of plastic toys and stuffed animals.

“Qué lástima,” I say. “It seems like they’re out of blow-up dolls for you.”

He flips me off, making a parent gasp as they walk by.

“Sorry, ma’am.” He looks away with pink-tipped ears.

“Ma’am,” I mimic in that rough, hushed voice of his.

“Shut up and lose already.” He passes me the mallet.

I step up toward the base while adjusting my grip to match Julian’s hold on the mallet. With a deep breath, I swing my arm up before slamming the mallet against the base. The metal piece climbs to the center of the strip, never reaching the bell like Julian did.

“If only I could use both arms.” I glare at the bell.

“That doesn’t matter.”

My eyes roll. “Yeah, right.”

“It’s more about science than strength.”

“Sure.”

“Nico can do it, and he doesn’t have half your power—even with a broken arm.” He passes the carnival worker a ten-dollar bill. “Let me show you.”

“Here.” I pass him the mallet, only for him to shake his head.

“It’s easier if I demonstrate with you.” He steps behind me and places his hands over mine.

Qué lástima: What a pity.



“You want an excuse to touch me.” I speak low enough for only him to hear.

His lips press against my ear as he whispers, “Only because you won’t let me otherwise.” He fixes our hands while ignoring the slight tremble in mine.

“If we smash the plate with all our might”—he swings back with me and whacks the mallet against the base, making the metal piece slide a little higher than mine—“we still won’t hit it.”

“Why?”

“Because you have to hit it just right.”

“All right, Goldilocks. Prove it.”

He repeats the same motion, although this time the mallet hits the center. The metal piece skyrockets to the top and slams into the bell, making it ring.

“See?”

I stick out my tongue. “Show-off.”

He lets go of my hands with a laugh. “Try again and aim for the center.”

I repeat the motion like he taught me. The metal piece climbs higher than before, but it doesn’t hit the bell.

He passes the worker another ten-dollar bill. “Keep going.”

My eyes slide toward the line building behind us. “There are other people who want to try.”

“They can wait.”

I try once more, aiming for the same spot Julian showed me. Although I don’t hit the bell, I’m getting closer.

“Again.” He taps the center of the base. “Right here. Focus more on hitting the target than how hard you hit it.”

“All right.” I follow Julian’s exact instructions to a T, hitting the spot he showed me at the perfect angle with the right amount of strength.

The ring of the bell has me throwing myself into his arms with a huge smile. “I did it!”

He wraps his arms around me, giving me a squeeze, and lifts me up. “You did.”

“I don’t care that I lost the competition.”

“No?”

“Nope! Because that was awesome. I’ve never been able to win that one before.”

“I know.” His eyes shine brighter than the flashing light above us.

A few people around us laugh and clap, reminding me of our audience.

“You can let me down now.”

He follows my request, turning it into a whole ordeal as my body slides down his.

My cheeks burn by the time I land on my feet.

“You put up a good fight.” He hands me the stuffed unicorn he picked out.

“Save me from the fake display of sportsmanship and get on with your gloating.”

“Fine. It felt good kicking your ass again.”

“There’s the cocky Julian I know and despise.” I grin.

Before I have a chance to stop him, he steals a quick kiss. It’s nothing more than a soft brush of his lips over mine, but it makes my head spin and my heart race like I ran a marathon.

“Sorry.” He pulls away and scans the group of random festival attendees waiting for their turn at the game.

“Just…You…We have rules for a reason.”

His gaze drops to my lips. “I know. It won’t happen again.”