Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 81083 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 405(@200wpm)___ 324(@250wpm)___ 270(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81083 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 405(@200wpm)___ 324(@250wpm)___ 270(@300wpm)
Weston cleared his throat, shifting in his seat. “I’m surprised you didn’t invite those two girls from the beach back here,” he said, obviously changing the subject.
I laughed, flashing him a grateful look at the opportunity to talk about literally anything else. “Night is still young,” I said while tossing in my blind before immediately glancing through the one-way window across the room that gave me a clear view of the small but busy restaurant beyond.
The woman was still there, sitting alone at a two-top table, checking her phone every few minutes while sipping on what looked like a soda water. I’d spotted her the second we settled in the private room, the view from my seat at the table making her impossible to miss.
Long black hair fell over her shoulders in effortless waves that made her bright blue eyes stand out in a breathtaking way, but it was her full lips curving into a smile she tried to hide any time she glanced at her phone that made her irresistibly beautiful. Her knee bounced slightly under the little table, like she couldn’t contain either excitement or anxiousness as she waited for whoever it was she was meeting.
“Your call, Ethan,” Asher said, drawing me back to the game.
Gareth glanced over his shoulder, noting the woman I’d been shamelessly staring at before turning back around in his seat. “She more interesting than your hand?” he asked.
“Maybe,” I said as I called his raise, eternally grateful my friends had dropped the more sensitive subject of my current shit-show and moved on to simpler things.
“That’s a first,” Crossland said, folding his cards.
“I call Gareth’s raises all the time.”
“Not that,” Crossland said before waving toward the window and the blue-eyed beauty beyond. “You’ve brought multiple women to these games, some of them electing to perch on your lap the entire time, and they never distracted you, let alone a stranger who doesn’t even know we’re in here.”
Doyle folded his cards, more interested in his drink than the hand.
Weston followed, more interested in my hand than his.
“I’m not distracted,” I said, watching Asher as he folded his cards and then dealt the flop.
Two hearts and a spade came out, but nothing that would beat my pair of kings yet.
“Bet,” I said, tossing in a chip worth my 1963 Rolex Daytona.
“Call,” Gareth said immediately, throwing in an equivalent chip.
Asher burned and turned another card.
Six of clubs. I was still safe, so I bet.
Gareth called.
Light, effortless laughter filled the space in the corner of the room where Daisy and Brynn sat chatting. Asher and Weston looked like absolute fools as they glanced over at their fiancées, their eyes going all glossed over like they did every time they saw them.
“Now who’s distracted?” I asked, and Asher blinked out of his love-daze.
I didn’t blame either of them. I’d been there once before—a love-struck man with nothing on his mind but the girl of his dreams—right until the point she stabbed me in the fucking heart.
Love was a painful game I’d decided never to play again.
Easier to stick to poker and material bets that didn’t hold the same value as matters of the heart. But even knowing that, I was happy for my friends. They were lottery winners, matching up with partners who fit and loved them, who had no intentions of ever betraying them.
Not everyone was that lucky. Some of us had to take love for what it was—harsh, cruel, and not worth the pain. That’s why I kept myself away from the relationship games and stuck with consensual, agreed-upon nights of fun. Nothing more. And that’s why, just like now, they constantly gave me shit about it.
Asher dealt the river, the last card on the board turning up a heart.
Shit.
If Gareth had been hunting for the heart, he’d hit his flush, which would fuck my pair, but he wasn’t usually one to chase. He was cold, calculated, and methodical in every aspect of his life, including poker. He most likely had a high pocket pair too and was hoping I hadn’t been chasing the hearts.
I tossed in a moderate bet to see where I stood.
After a few seconds of studying each other, he pulled out a blank chip, twirling it between his fingers while he contemplated what to raise me with.
Movement flickered through the one-way glass, catching my eye. The woman had stood up to take off her jacket, placing it over the back of the chair.
Fuck me, she was gorgeous. A soft black shirt hugged her generous curves, a pair of jeans cinched tight against hips that begged to be gripped, and that fucking smile she gave her server was so damn bright—all ease and hope and light.
“Don’t,” Weston said. “She looks way too nice for your assholish nature.”
I laughed, shaking my head.
“It’s true,” Asher agreed. “I don’t know how you get so many women when you’re out there breaking baseball bats and getting yourself tossed from games left and right.”