After a few hours and a couple of beers, I’d nearly gone up against everyone. There was no real structure here, and some played me twice just for the hell of it. I was pretty sure they thought I’d been blessed with some kind of beginner’s luck, which was totally right.
Dad had tried to teach me the ins and outs of poker multiple times, but I lost interest too fast to retain anything. Now that I realized how much fun it could be, I kicked myself for not taking him up on it sooner. I could’ve been out here swindling cowboys and paying off rodeo fees without so much as a blink of an eye.
But with Bishop here, everything seemed to change. The air was thicker, the pressure was higher, and my bravado was slipping. Pesky butterflies flitted in my stomach as he walked out of his office in a fresh t-shirt.
Why I waited so long to act on the feelings between us was a mystery to me, especially when he looked at me with that cocky expression of his. Yes, he could be an ass, but that was something I’d grown to appreciate. It made those rare moments of vulnerability much sweeter. Maybe that was a dealbreaker to some, but it kind of sealed it for me.
My gaze dropped, slowly scanning down the length of his body. I didn’t care who saw it. Whether we wanted to admit it or not, the sexual tension between us had been there for years. It wasn’t anything our crew hadn’t seen before.
“Is that your wallet, or are you just happy to see me?” I asked, focusing on the bulge at the front of his pants.
If he cared, he didn’t show it. “Don’t have my wallet, but I am happy to see you.”
“Why’s that?”
Bishop reached forward, his corded forearm flexing as he gripped the foldable metal chair and pulled it back. My mouth had gone dry before his ass hit the seat. As if he knew it, the bastard smirked, letting one arm rest on the table and the other on his thick thigh.
“Because I’m gonna enjoy the hell out of knocking you down a peg.” He leaned forward slightly, keeping his voice low over the hum of conversation around us. “You know, if you wanted to play cards, we could’ve played strip poker at home.”
Oh, I was so fucked.
On the outside, I was trying to seem cool, calm, and collected, but inside, I was screaming. Our game would be nothing like the others because, unlike the others, my cowboy knew me better than anyone else. He was too observant, too careful. He’d likely spent way too much time studying me for any sign of weakness during our years of bickering.
If that was all it was, I might’ve even stood a chance, but he knew me in other ways now, too. Ways he could, and likely would, exploit to see me squirm.
I cleared my throat. “Well, I know it’s past your bedtime, so we can make this quick?—”
“Oh no,” he said slowly. My gaze dropped to where he drew lazy circles around the lip of his beer bottle. “You’ve talked too much shit for me to let you off easy.”
“Is that right?” I lifted a brow in challenge. “I haven’t lost yet.”
“I guess it’s an honor to be your first.” His lips curled slightly, but not enough for anyone to catch on to the possible innuendo. “Because you will lose, killer.”
Something about the nickname rolling off his tongue drove me crazy. My thighs clenched together on instinct, which didn’t bode well for me, seeing as we hadn’t even begun yet. “You sure are cocky for a man who didn’t even wanna play ten minutes ago.”
“Call me inspired. Maybe I wanna be the one to put you in your place since you’ve been swindling my boys here.” He nodded to the stacked deck between us. “Winner deals out.”
I crossed my arms. “I’m not any good at shuffling.”
He lifted his shoulder. “Don’t care. You’re playing with me now and as the reigning champ… I insist.”
I reached forward, grabbing the deck with more force than was necessary. “Fine, but I don’t want to hear you complain if I do a shitty job.”
“I won’t hold it against you. Maybe it’ll work in my favor.”
“Or it’ll make me look like an idiot…” I muttered under my breath.
“What was that?” he asked, leaning forward.
I flipped him off because I wanted to, and it seemed like something the old Lennox, the woman who didn’t know how good Bishop’s hand felt on her body, would do. Cutting the stack in two, I let the cards sift through my hands. It was awkward, and I fumbled on more than one occasion. After five attempts, I was finally satisfied.
“What’re we playing for?” I asked, tapping the deck against the table. “You already said you don’t have your wallet, so money’s out.”
Bishop scrunched his nose and shook his head. “Naw, I don’t need to steal your money, killer.”
“What do you need then? A La-Z-Boy recliner and all fourteen seasons ofDallason DVD?”
There was a quiet “damn” drawn out by one of the guys before the silence broke with hushed laughter. Others hid their smiles behind their drinks. Bishop didn’t say anything, which might have been more concerning than anything else.
