“It’s okay. Your enthusiasm is appreciated even if your hands might need a warning label.”

“Sorry.” Feeling bad, I reached out and massaged his lean shoulder. And damn. I was woefully unprepared for how good touching him deliberately like this felt, heat rushing through me. He tensed before groaning and going more pliant. For a second that stretched into an eternity, the rest of the crowded ballroom fell away, and it was only us, him melting under my touch and me catching fire.

Then someone coughed and I remembered where the heck we were. My hand fell away right as someone jostled me from behind. “Pardon me.”

“No problem.” Heart still hammering, I moved out the way so a guy with a red deck bag could pass.

“Sorry,” I said again to Jasper after the dude was gone.

“No problem. But you might want to warn a guy before you go handing out massages like that.” Jasper’s voice was light, but not particularly flirty. Still, though, something about his tone made my skin all toasty as I followed him to his next match.

“I…uh…might wander the vendor booths while you do this round.”

“Sure.” Jasper sounded distracted, but that probably had more to do with his next opponent, a middle-aged guy, than me. The weird energy thrumming between us was undoubtedly my own hallucination, and I tried to push it from my head as I made my way through the various stalls.

They featured cards galore and accessories like dice, but also T-shirts and things like magnets and buttons. I’d had no idea the level of merch gamers could collect. It reminded me of those dudes back at college who did their whole room as an ode to their favorite sports team. And posters. One booth had a long line of people waiting to buy art, and a woman with long, gray hair was signing each poster or small print.

“You in the market for a McMurtle?” Eugene appeared out of nowhere, entourage in tow.

“A McWhat?” My response got a big laugh from Eugene and his friends.

“She’s Sylvia McMurtle. Famous Odyssey artist. Does a lot of the art for cards and other merch. Lives near here so she comes to the local events sometimes.”

“And people pay for her signature?” I got that the cards could be super pretty, but it still made my head buzz that someone could get that popular simply from some drawings.

“And how.” Eugene quoted a price for a print that made my jaw fall open.

“Wow.”

“Yup. How’s your boy doing? I think I’ve locked up a spot in the quarterfinals, but we’ll see.” Eugene all but blew on his knuckles as he humble-bragged.