I was almost starting to regret my decision to smart off.
Almost.
“Nope, don’t need that either,” he chuckled, sipping his beer. Condensation dripped down the glass. I watched a singledroplet travel down his tan hand, wishing like hell we weren’t in a room full of people who had no idea we were fucking behind closed doors so I could lick it off. “What about you? What’re you betting?”
“I have money to burn.” I gestured toward my winnings for the night. There was about five hundred dollars there. I’d already decided that any money I won tonight would go into something for the crew. I didn’t need it, and I’d kind of crashed their guys’ night, so I wanted to make sure it got back to them somehow.
Bishop hummed before pulling out a twenty from his pocket and throwing it down. “We’ll start there, then.”
“I thought you said you didn’t have money.”
“I said I didn’t have my wallet. There’s a difference.”
“Twenty bucks isn’t gonna get you far, especially since this is only the buy-in.” I tossed an identical bill down beside his. “What’re you gonna do when you can’t add to the pot?”
“Just deal the fucking hand, killer. Let me worry about what I’m gonna do,” he drawled, setting down his beer with a little more force than usual.
I’m sure the crew thought he was mad—and he might’ve been to some degree. After all, he was fighting a losing battle when it came to my smart mouth and his inability to do anything about it.
The room was silent except for the occasional hoof stomp or tail swish. As cards were dealt, I could feel everyone’s eyes dart between Bishop and me. I watched enough games tonight to know the general order of things. Two cards face-down for the pair of us and five community cards in the middle.
Carefully, I peeled back the corner to see what I had. Two aces off the bat, which had to be good, right? Weren’t they supposed to be the highest cards or something? Glancing up, I noticed Bishop smirk as he checked his. He studied the firstthree cards and turned over cards in the middle—a three, seven, and a jack of spades.
“What’s your call?” he asked.
I had no idea what I was doing, but I said, “I’ll raise,” and tossed another twenty in.
“Doubling the pot, huh?”
“You could always fold,” I said, smiling sweetly. I couldn’t lose to him. If I did, I’d never live it down. I hoped I could get by faking it until I made it because that’s what I’d done most of my life when I got into a tough spot.
“Naw. I have a few bucks left. I’ll match.”
I reached for the fourth card and turned it over. The queen of hearts. He was staring at the cards like they’d personally offended him, which maybe they had. Or maybe, just maybe, this was his attempt to throw me.
When his eyes lifted to meet my own, he gestured toward my money pile. “What’s it gonna be this time, high roller?”
“Same as before,” I said, tossing my hair over my shoulder. “I’m not scared.”
“You should be,” he said. “You’re welcome to fold anytime.”
I narrowed my eyes. “You wish.”
Bishop chuckled as he reached for the last unturned card. A two of fucking diamonds. He tapped his fingers along the table, blowing out a breath in a slow, steady exhale.
“Last chance,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’ll even let you go without saying shit about your hold’em skills.”
God, he was infuriating. I pointed in his direction, wagging my finger. “This isn’t going to work, you know? I’m not going to suddenly decide to listen to you only for you to be bluffing.”
“If you think I’m bluffing, then call it.”
That was the problem. I wasn’t one hundred percent sure. I’d rather go down swinging than roll over like a dog with a bone. As it was, Callie seemed to have already wandered over to Bishop’s side. She lay down at his feet, her tongue lolling out the side.
“Let’s just fucking do it.” I flipped the cards over, ever aware of our audience drawing closer. They stared at both hands, and Bishop grinned so wide I thought he was going to combust. He clicked his tongue. “Ooh, one pair. Guess that beginner’s luck might be wearing off.”
“What do you have then?” I snapped, leaning over. He was holding a four and a queen of spades.
“A flush. Same house, see?” He reached for the pot, plucking the cash and setting it aside. “Well, this was fun?—”
