“I’m putting down a three on your run of hearts there . . . and I’m out.” Juliet dropped the card on the table and did a cute little chair dance, her arms in the air as she wriggled around. “I beat your ass again, bubba!”
I groaned as I laid down my hand. “Holy hell, woman. I’m going to be deep in the hole. You definitely won.”
“I did, I did.” She counted her cards quickly. “Ha! Take that, sucker.”
I leaned back in my chair, shaking my head. “Okay, I’m done with rummy. I’m bored.” I drained the bottle of beer next to me. “We need to find something more exciting to do.”
Juliet glanced up at me as she shuffled the cards, and I couldn’t read the expression on her face. That was unusual; for the past two weeks, we’d been spending so much time together that I thought I’d figured out her tells and her ticks. But maybe not.
I wasn’t even sure how it had happened, that Juliet Connors had, for all intents and purposes, taken up residence in my house. It had started the day after she’d driven me home, the morning after my drunken escapade with Zeke and August. She’d looked around silently when she’d dropped me off, and then she’d announced that she was going to work, but she’d be back shortly. And she had come back right after lunch, bearing more food and a list of my upcoming doctor visits.
Oh, she didn’t sleep here—not at night, anyway. And she was still working at the stadium for the team. But according to her, Coach had put her on a special assignment to make sure I ate well and got to my appointments. I hadn’t missed a therapy session or a check-up since the day she’d marched into my house. And yeah, I was eating much better.
Still, though, I wasn’t altogether comfortable with her endgame. If she was just doing a job, I could respect that. But I’d never gotten the sense that Juliet was all that passionate about nutrition. Oh, she was determined to be successful and to be respected, but it wasn’t her life’s focus, like medicine was for Emma. And Alison.
Alison. Now there was a sore spot. I hadn’t heard a word from her since the day she’d come to my house. I knew I should be glad she’d given up but . . . maybe part of me wished she hadn’t, even when I knew that was what she should do. I shouldn’t want her. Hell, I couldn’t want her at all. Not when I was still so screwed up.
“I have an idea.” There was a new tone in Juliet’s voice, something almost daring. “Let’s play Blackjack.”
“More cards?” I quirked a skeptical brow. “Really? My ass is already blistered from the spanking you’ve given me tonight.”
“Oh, but this time, I suggest a twist.” She rested her elbows on the table and leaned forward, giving me a perfect view of her tits pressed together beneath the V dip of her neckline. “We’ll play Strip Blackjack.”
“Strip Blackjack?” I was fascinated, and my dick, rising to attention beneath my sweatpants, was even more intrigued. That was annoying. I didn’twantto want Juliet. I might be tolerating her more nowadays, I might have grown to grudgingly respect her, but I still didn’t really like her. We didn’t have much in common. But try reminding my libido of that. For some reason, having a pretty female prancing around my house, shaking her tits and ass in my face, had led the less-evolved part of my brain to fantasize about her.
I jerked my attention back to her reply.
“Yep. It’s like normal everyday Blackjack, but if you lose, youreallylose. Like an article of clothing.”
“Huh.” My head was spinning a little. I hadn’t had sex in a long time, and I’d had just enough to drink tonight that even if my judgment was slightly impaired, my performance wouldn’t be. “Do you think this is a good idea?”
A wicked smile curved her tempting lips. “I think it’s the best idea ever.” She reached for the cards again, gave them a perfunctory shuffle, and then dealt the first hand: one card each face-down, one card each face-up.
She set the pile between us and peeked at her hidden card. “Well?”
I lifted my bottom card, too. “Hit me.”
She took the card from the top of the pile and laid it in front of me.
Damn.“I’m burned.”
“Huh.” She flipped over her cards. “Nineteen. House wins.”
“Oh, so you’re the house?” I cocked my head.
“I’m dealing, aren’t I? Yep, I’m the house.” She pointed at me. “Lose something. Some piece of clothing.”
I pushed back from the table a little. “You’ve got the advantage here, JC. I’m only wearing my sweats and a T-shirt.”
“Oh, really? I hadn’t noticed.” She wagged her eyebrows. “Wait a minute, does this mean you’re not wearing anything under your sweatpants?”
I felt my face heat up. “Uh, yes. With my knee, it’s too hard—” I heard what I was saying. “I mean, it’s too difficult to maneuver boxers over the knee. So I’m commando pretty much all the time now.”
“Wow. You’re lucky I didn’t know that before now. I might’ve been even more tempted than I’ve already been.”
I choked on the beer I’d just opened and begun to drink. “Um, what?”
Juliet raised one finger and twirled it. “Take something off, Noah. Are you wearing socks?” She bent down to peer under the table. “Nope. So . . .” She twirled her finger again. “Off comes the shirt.”
