It takes her a prolonged heartbeat, but she leans forward and says clearly, “Joseph James DeAngelo, a.k.a. The Golden State Killer.”

Every head turns toward Jameson to see if she’s right because we have no idea.

Jameson’s smile grows as he checks his answer card. “Correct! The winner of the loser bracket is . . . Anarchy Authority!”

“We won!” I shout, bending down to wrap my arms around Zoey’s thighs and lift her high.

She squeals in surprise, her hands going to my shoulders, but I’ve got her. I won’t let anything happen to her, or to me, or to anyone else. Right now, I feel ten feet tall and bulletproof as everyone claps and cheers.

Professor Adams comes over to shake Heather’s hand. “Good showing tonight. Never seen people so excited about third place.”

He laughs and Heather shrugs. “As long as we’re not the losers. Those guys have to buy the drinks.”

She says the last part loud enough for Cole to hear and he grimaces. But he holds a hand up to Don and spins a finger through the air to order another round.

“Come on. I promised you some nachos, Ringer.” I lead Zoey back to our team’s table, where everyone’s chatting and congratulating each other on their correct answers. Now that the competition is over, even Cole has toned it down and is talking like a normal human being.

“Great job, Zoey! You can play with us any time,” Heather tells her.

“Thanks,” Zoey says haltingly. “Though I didn’t realize I was playing tonight. I thought I was rushing in for an emergency, hence the running out of the house without getting dressed.”

She gestures to her outfit and Heather shrugs. “You should see what I wore for the Halloween Trivia Bash. Girl, you look almost normal compared to that outfit.”

“What was your outfit?” Zoey asks, and Heather laughs.

“I came as a full-on, ball-busting, leather-and latex-clad dominatrix . . . with a pink tutu,” Heather says matter of factly.

“To really paint the picture, you have to know the whole outfit was pink. It was like Pink Panther kink or ballerina BDSM,” Trey says. “By the way, welcome, Zoey. I’ve heard a lot about you. And by that, I mean daily analysis during morning workouts with this one.” He tilts his head toward me with a smirk. I’m not mad at being thrown under the bus, though. If anything, he’s pitching my case that I’m serious about Zoey for me.

The welcome is echoed around the table, and Zoey looks on, stunned. Absolute acceptance, that’s what these people offer. We all come from different walks of life, have different educations and knowledge, and work different jobs, but at the end of the day, we all accept that we’re trivia nerds.

That’s enough for us.

Zoey’s smile is surer as I pull a chair out for her and she sits down with my people. They could be her people too . . . if she wants. If she trusts that everything will be fine and she won’t shower some cursed rain on our lives just by hanging out with us.

I sit down too and lay an arm around the back of her chair, claiming her.

I lean over to whisper in her ear, “Did I tell you that you look beautiful?”

She smiles softly. “Maybe you did.”

But that light in her eyes says she knows good and well that I did.

But I’m happy to say it again and again because she does look gorgeous, especially in pajamas. And in scrubs or jeans, and most definitely in nothing, but that’s only been in my imagination so far.

“Did I tell you thank you for saving my ass tonight?”

“You definitely did not.”

“My mistake. Thank you, Miss Walker, for saving us in this most important battle.” I pitch my voice, mimicking a medieval knight and offering a formal bow of my head.

Zoey grins. “Battle? Not exactly the life or death emergency I thought I was walking into.”

“No, not life or death. Much more important than that. This was a battle for honor and bragging rights,” I declare, still sounding like Sir Lancelot. “Our very reputation as trivia nerds depended on you.”

“Well, I guess I’m glad I read that article about using genetic genealogy to narrow down suspects in unsolved case files.” Her lip quirks on the left, that tiny tell that means she thinks she’s said something off-putting.

“Do you know how sexy that sounds?”

“Unsolved case files?”

“No, that you read,” I tell her honestly. “I love a woman who reads—who wants to learn, understand, and experience things beyond whatever life offers. It’s sexy. Your mind is sexy.”

Zoey tries to hide it, but I see the smile on her pink lips. A full one that I cherish. “Can’t say I’ve heard that one before. Usually, people think my mind is the three Ds—dark, deadly, and dangerous—constantly filled with plans for ungodly acts.”

“I’m thinking of some ungodly acts right now,” I tease, rubbing my thumb along her shoulder where her cardigan has dipped down to expose a few inches of bare skin.

“Blake,” she sighs in warning.

Or want?

I lean closer, slowly getting into her space, and she tilts her head, lifting her chin.

Our breath mingles for a split second before becoming one, her lips soft beneath mine. She tastes like possibilities and hope, and I instantly become hard beneath the table.