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Zara dealt their first hand while he counted out twenty pretzel sticks for each of them. As soon as she laid down the door card, she smiled when his was lower than hers.
“Your bet,” she told him.
He smirked. “I’m aware of the rules.”
“Just making sure you know you’re dealing with a professional.”
There. Maybe if she kept throwing verbiage out like that, he wouldn’t be so determined to cross territory they could never return from.
Braden raised the bet, but Zara didn’t think he had anything worth raising for. She’d call him on his bluff. He had a poker face, that was for sure. No doubt he’d used that same straight, stoic look in the business world. As the oldest son of the late Patrick O’Shea, Braden had big shoes to fill, and being the powerful man he was, he’d have no problem at all, Zara knew.
By the time the last card was dealt, Zara was looking at a full house with aces on top. Not the best hand, but still better than whatever he was lying about.
“I’ll raise you,” she told him, throwing in three more sticks.
When he flipped his cards over, Zara gripped her cards and simply stared. Seriously? She’d dealt him a flush? There hadn’t been a gleam in his eye one time during the entire game, and she’d thought he’d been bluffing.
Narrowing her eyes, she tossed her cards down as he raked in his pretzels. The kitten chose that time to dart over and walk right through the cards and the pretzels as if he owned the place. He swatted at a pretzel and kept swatting it until he was moving too close to the logs. There was a screen around the fireplace, more for looks, but she still didn’t want the little guy rubbing against it and singeing his fur.
Zara reached out, stretching to grab hold of him and his pretzel, then deposited him on the other side of her away from the heat.
“I believe it’s my deal,” Braden stated with a smirk. “Hold tight. We’re about to take this to a whole new level.”
She tipped her head in a silent question.
“We’re playing for answers now,” he told her as he reached down, grabbed a pretzel and popped it into his mouth. “Whoever wins the hand can ask the other player anything, and they have to answer.”
Still eyeing him skeptically, Zara asked, “Just questions? No touching, no clichéd strip poker?”
Shuffling the cards, he smiled. “I’ll touch and strip if you want. Hell, that can even be one of your questions. Up to you, so ask what you want.”
Mercy, the man was incorrigible, and she was finding that she loved every second of his quick wit, his flirty side and the fact he made no secret that he wanted her.
Thankfully, she won the next hand with a pair of kings, beating out his jacks. Zara reached to push the cards back in order to shuffle them as she pondered her question.
Staring down at the cards as they shuffled and fell into place, she asked, “If you believe in marriage and family so much, why are you still single?”
That sexy laugh filled the room. “I’m so glad you didn’t ask something as boring as my favorite color or movie.”
Risking a glance, she looked him in the eye. Okay, fine, her eyes may have lingered a little longer on his bare chest, but they eventually hit his eyes, where she saw amusement staring back at her.
“Well?” she asked, raising her brows as she started dealing.
“Haven’t found the right one.”
He studied his cards, offering nothing else with his response. Zara gritted her teeth. If he was going to be vague, then so could she when the time came...though she didn’t intend to lose.
As she stared at her cards, though, a pit grew in her stomach. Unless she was dealt something spectacular in the next round, she was going to be answering a question, and she was almost afraid to see what he’d come up with.
The second he realized he won, he dropped a question she definitely hadn’t expected.
“Why do you choose assholes to date? Because of commitment issues?”
Zara refused to be rattled. “That’s two questions, so your round is disqualified.”
Just as she reached for the cards, Braden’s hand covered hers. As if knowing he was naked beneath that blanket weren’t enough to sizzle her mind, his warm touch only added fuel to the proverbial fire.
“I’m not disqualified.” Gently squeezing her hand, he turned her palm over and laced their fingers, holding their joined hands up between them. “Tell me why you only date jerks.”
“How do you know I date jerks?”
