Chapter 222
**Sara**
The claw descended with what seemed like painstaking deliberation. Its metal fingers finally grasped something vaguely penguin-shaped before convulsing with what I could only describe as mechanical laughter. The plush penguin slipped through its grip and toppled back into the abyss with quiet defiance.
My laughter bubbled up, unstoppable. "You were saying, wonder boy?"
"I'm warming up," Tom retorted, slotting another dollar into the machine. The cycle began anew: a dance between man and machine, claw and penguin. This relentless claw game had embarrassed countless dreamers; Tom was no exception.
I leaned against the machine, amused. "Why don't we just get the guy with the keys?"
"That's cheating," Tom protested, hitting the button again. "I'm not letting this thing beat me."
The machine whirred dismissively, another dollar sacrificed to the plushy gods.
He persisted, inserting one dollar after another until, at last, the claw gripped the penguin triumphantly. The toy swung, hanging precariously, toward the drop chute.
Tom watched with the disbelief of someone who had just discovered that Santa Claus was real. We both gasped as the plush penguin triumphantly fell into the chute.
"Ha! Told you!" he exclaimed, pulling it from the machine. He cradled it like it was the Holy Grail of arcade rewards.
I clapped dramatically. "Bravo. Now I believe we have a deal."
Tom rested the penguin on his arm, taking a bow. "Sometimes, talent and persistence do triumph over rigged machinery."
"You better cherish this moment. It's not every day a finance professor wins a stuffed penguin. People will talk."
"Oh, I'm making a plaque for this," he declared, holding up the penguin for effect. "Achievement of the decade."
I shook my head fondly. "You ready for your prize, or are you still riding high on your glory?"
"Want more arcade wisdom?" he suggested, shrugging nonchalantly. "But since you're so insistent…"
I kissed him, feeling that rush again—blending laughter, comfort, and ridiculous thrills. Tom held me close, making the chaos of the arcade dim into the background noise of our moment—until, of course, the sound of a kid's excited scream brought us back to reality.
I grinned into the center of the universe he'd created, breaking away just enough to speak. "You won the penguin. Guess I owe you."
He held up the prize again, triumphant. "And I think I've found your new lucky charm."
I snorted. "It's a penguin, Tom."
"A very dignified penguin," he corrected, examining it with faux reverence.
I snatched the penguin from his hands. "Well, Mr. Dignified Penguin, it looks like you're coming home with me."
"I thought he was staying at my place?" Tom's face fell like I'd just stolen his favorite toy.
"Nope. He's mine now. You won him for me, remember?" I tucked the penguin under my arm. "I'm starving. Didn't we talk about dinner?"
We found a quiet Italian restaurant nearby. It had checkered tablecloths and wine bottles turned into candle holders. The smell of garlic and herbs filled the air.
I settled into the cozy booth, placing my new penguin companion on the seat beside me. The candlelight flickered across Tom's face as he studied the menu.
"I'm thinking just appetizers," I said, scanning the options. "After all that arcade excitement, I don't think I could handle a full meal."
"Bruschetta and calamari?" Tom suggested, not looking up from his menu. "Maybe some wine?"
"Trying to get me drunk, Tom?"
He smirked. "Just being Italian-authentic."
After ordering, Tom leaned back, his fingers playing with the stem of his water glass. "So, Monday's the big day. Your first day at Westbridge."
"Don't remind me. I'm already nervous enough."
"Which is exactly why we should do something fun this weekend." His eyes sparkled with that familiar mischief. "How about a getaway? Just you, me, and nature."
I raised an eyebrow. "Nature? This wouldn't have anything to do with the fact that you're facing a month of celibacy, would it?"
"Fine, you caught me." He leaned forward, voice dropping. "The thought of not touching you for a month is already driving me crazy."
Heat crept up my neck. "Well, at least you're honest."
The waiter arrived with our bruschetta, momentarily interrupting our conversation. I took a bite, savoring the fresh tomatoes and garlic.
"So?" Tom prompted. "What do you say about the weekend?"
"Last time you whisked me away, we ended up at that fancy resort." I wiped a crumb from my lip. "Please tell me this time involves actual trees, not just paintings."
"I was thinking more along the lines of a cabin. Private, secluded, surrounded by forest." His foot brushed against mine under the table. "No fake newlywed story needed this time."
I felt his foot trace up my calf, making my breath catch. "Trying to convince me with footsie under the table?"
"Is it working?"
I took a slow sip of water, pretending to consider. "Maybe. Tell me more about this cabin."
"Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the lake. King-size bed. Hot tub on the deck." Each feature came with another subtle brush of his foot. "Complete privacy."
"Sounds dangerous." I popped an olive in my mouth, watching his eyes track the movement. "What if I need to scream for help?"
"Trust me, you'll be screaming for different reasons."
Heat bloomed across my cheeks. "Tom!"
He laughed, clearly pleased with my reaction. "What? I meant from all the hiking we'll do."
"Sure you did." I crossed my legs, trapping his foot. "And I suppose the king-size bed is for stargazing?"
"Among other activities." His eyes darkened. "So what do you say?"
The calamari arrived, giving me a moment to collect my thoughts. Not that I needed it - we both knew I'd say yes. The thought of a whole weekend alone with Tom, no interruptions, no responsibilities...
"Fine." I speared a piece of calamari with my fork. "But I have conditions."
"Name them."
"First, actual hiking. Not just bedroom cardio."
He nodded solemnly. "I'll pack our boots."
"Second, you cook at least one meal."
"Deal. Anything else?"
I leaned forward, lowering my voice. "Third, bring those silk ties you mentioned last time."
Tom choked on his water.
"What?" I asked innocently. "I thought you wanted to be prepared for all activities?"
His recovery was quick. "Oh, I'll be prepared. Just remember you asked for this."
The rest of dinner passed in a haze of heated looks and suggestive comments. By the time we finished, the tension between us was thick enough to cut with a knife.
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