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Jude: I just got back to the room, and you’re not here. Is Mike Tyson’s tiger in the bathroom? Should I start checking the roof now?
I laugh, typing out an answer that’s slightly more grounded in reality than Hollywood.
Me: I’m losing all your free casino money.
Technically speaking, I’m up about five hundred.
Jude: HA. Did you leave a trail of cookies to help me find you, or should I just ask you where you are?
Me: At our lovely casino’s poker room.
Jude: Hold up. You’re playing poker in the Venetian?
Me: Texas Hold’em, to be exact.
Jude: Babe, no offense, but do you know how to play poker?
Pfft. Of course, I know how to fucking play. I’m almost offended that he asked me that question, but then I realize it’s that kind of thought process that’s going to allow me to steal all of these old dude’s chips.
So, I keep that mind-set and shoot a rambling text back.
Me: I mean, I know that a straight means that all the cards have to go in order. And a flush means that all your cards have to have the same cute symbol at the top. Like, all the hearts need to match. Or all the spades. Personally, I like diamonds the best.
Jude: LOL. Sounds like you’re all set, then.
Me: Does being back at the room mean you’re done with your meeting?
Jude: Yep. And I’m on the prowl for my sexy little Girl Scout.
Me: Well, I’m pretty sure you can find her in the Poker Room. She’ll be the one wearing a pair of jean shorts and a T-shirt that says “The Secret Club.”
Jude: Wait…those cutoff jean shorts where I get to see the bottom curve of your ass?
I furrow my brow. This is the only pair of jean shorts I brought with me, and, to be honest, I don’t recall my butt cheeks actually hanging out of them.
Me: Uh…pretty sure you can’t see my ass in these.
Jude: I did.
Me: When?
Jude: When you were bending over this morning to get something out of your suitcase.
I shake my head on a silent laugh. I swear, sometimes, he’s like the pervy, underwear-stealing stalker I didn’t even know I wanted.
Jude: I’ll be there before you can say the Girl Scout Promise.
Jude
Right in the middle of a table full of big, burly, poker-playing men, I find Sophie.
She looks so damn tiny compared to the rest of the table, but she also looks crazy hot. Her legs are crossed beneath a pair of cutoff jean shorts, and her badge-covered T-shirt stretches across her breasts in the most tantalizing way.
Ten fucking badges she’s earned thus far. And if all goes well, I’ll get her to earn another ten before we leave this town.
When she meets my eyes, her lips crest up into the kind of smile that creates one of my own, and I pick up the pace to close the distance between us. Once I’m standing directly beside her, I press a kiss to the side of her cheek.
“How’s it going, babe?” I ask as I pointedly make eye contact with all the men at this table, even the tall, gangly dude in the casino uniform and name tag that reads Dealer.
It’s not so much that I’m marking my territory, but more that I’m making sure they understand that if they fuck with Sophie, they’re going to have to fuck with me.
Most men at the tables in the high-roller poker rooms at any of the big Vegas casinos are chill, but every once in a while, you get a real asshat who thinks he can push people around. Even if those people are women.
Luckily, no one gives off a dickhead vibe, and I move my focus down to Sophie’s chips.
“Babe,” I whisper into her ear, “I thought you said you were losing. That doesn’t look like losing.”
If my count is correct, she’s up a few hundred from what I handed her this morning before I left to meet with Electric’s investors over breakfast at The Palm.
She just shrugs, and her mischievous body language makes my bullshit detector go ding-ding.
I narrow my eyes at her, and when she shoots an awkward but adorable wink in my direction, I know, without a doubt, something is afoot. I’m not sure what it is, but I’m pretty sure Sophie is up to no good.
More curious than ever now, I press another kiss to her cheek and step back and let her play the cards the dealer just dealt to the table.
Three of the men immediately up the ante, and two of them fold.
When it’s on Sophie to decide, she peeks at her cards once more, and it almost looks like she might throw in the towel, but when she playfully shrugs one shoulder and lets out a little giggle, she ends up matching the bet and hanging in the game for the dealer to show the flop.
