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Harker dropped the takeout bags on the coffee table and headed for the kitchen. “Alis...” He shut his mouth. He wasn’t going to let her score any more points. “This is such a waste of time,” he mumbled as he walked down the hallway toward the business part of his home. “Calling for her is so much faster.” He stopped at the door.
She had her head bent, staring at the screen.
“I heard you.” She didn’t look up. “It still counts.”
“How did you hear me? And I didn’t even finish your name, so it doesn’t count.”
“It counts.” She glanced at him, her eyes sparkling. She was always in such a good mood. He envied her ability to see the humor in everything. She could take the worst day and make it fun.
“Unless your little program rolled out, Alis it doesn’t count.”
“Okay. I’ll concede this time, but I think”—the twinkle in her eyes turned to a gleam—“I’ll have to add that.”
“Add what?”
“A fraction of my name.” She faced the computer, her hands flying over the keyboard. “Since you’ve taken an interest in this game, you’re going to change your behavior. I can’t get my points unless I take that into account and modify my list of phrases.”
“You don’t have time to rewrite your program. Dinner is here.”
“Rewrite? Do you think I just started programming?” She sent him a disgusted look. “The Harker Barker-Meter reads a text file. All I have to do is add”—she began typing—“this line and it’s done. It’s modified for your new Barkerism.”
“That’s not funny.” He did not bark at her. “And I’ll still make sure you lose.”
“Wanna bet?”
“I do.” Now, he was very interested in this game. He was extremely competitive. His eyes wandered over her, loving how her face flushed. She no longer saw him as a non-sexual male. “What kind of bet did you have in mind?”
“Not the kind you’re thinking.”
“Shame. That’s the only kind worth taking.” And the only kind he was interested in winning.