Inspired, Sierra tossed her phone to the couch cushion next to her and executed a quick move that had her straddling Cole, her face inches from his. Hoping to distract him from his distractedness, she kissed him, slowly, thoroughly, feeling the usual heat spark between them, pulsing from her core outward. She could swear Cole felt it too, based on the low, sexy groan that rumbled out of him, but then he pulled away slightly, let out a dazed laugh, and said, “Conceding already? Litter box is in the bathroom.”

She straightened, her competitive spirit fueled by his cockiness—and she really did hate litter boxes. Besides, she’d seen the ten-point J in her hand, and Cole had left one of the Triple Word spaces vulnerable. Hopping off him, she went to work, determined to make a large dent in his lead.

A few minutes later, Sierra had managed to come within two points of him. They’d trash-talked with each turn, and it might seem ridiculous to trash-talk about a word game, especially a phone version, but this was them, and she loved it. When Cole saw the updated score and that she was closing in, he made a show of intensifying his efforts. She rolled her eyes and laughed, then opened her email to check it, recognizing that he was going to take his sweet time and likely come back with a big play.

She hadn’t checked her email since leaving work and saw that there were forty-two new messages. Skimming over the list of senders, she paused and her heart skipped a beat when she saw Adam Riccio about halfway down, with the subject line Eldridge Mansion Renovation Contest. She sat up on the edge of the couch and hesitated before clicking on it, gauging her gut feeling. She still felt good about it, she discovered. She’d given it her best effort, and her proposal for the project was damn good. Disregarding the half thought that a phone call would be a more dramatic way to impart good news, she clicked, skimmed the first paragraph, and felt her heart sink in her chest at the words unfortunately and not selected.

Her body seemed to forget to breathe as the words sank in.

“Damn,” she said on a shallow exhale, closing her eyes. Damn, damn, damn.

Thinking maybe there was a chance she’d read that wrong, she held her phone up and double-checked. Read each word this time instead of skimming. Nope, still the worst news. It was short and not so sweet, and it didn’t make her feel better to learn she was first runner-up. The winner was the good-looking guy from Memphis, who’d, in Sierra’s opinion, had the least appealing presentation of all of them. But her opinion didn’t matter.

Her phone sounded with the notification that Cole had played, but she didn’t really register it.