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I shook my head. He looked at Diego, who did the same. “You finally paid me after losing at poker a couple of weeks ago.”
“Oh, are we having girls’ card night soon?” Harley asked, gesturing in Daphne’s direction.
“Just the girls?” Diego asked as he looked at Harley.
“Yes, you guys did guys’ night for a while, so it's girls’ night because there are more women in the staff house now.”
The door to the hallway opened again, this time with Gemma appearing. “Girls’ card night,” Daphne called over.
“Where?” Gemma asked as she walked over, stopping between Harley and Diego and leaning over to press a kiss on his cheek.
He slid his arm around her waist and pulled her close. “Can I come?”
“No,” Gemma replied with a smile.
“It's at the staff house whenever we do it,” Harley offered. “Cat’s been practicing with Grant.”
“I'm good at poker,” Daphne said.
“You are?” Diego asked.
She nodded. “Oh, yes.”
“Let's just play for fun,” Gemma interjected.
“Why don’t you invite the guys?” Diego persisted.
“No,” Harley said, narrowing her eyes.
He rested his forehead on Gemma’s shoulder as she chuckled. He lifted his head and gave her a lingering kiss. I looked away. The intimacy and closeness between them were so obvious. My heart clenched as I reflexively glanced toward Harley. She was looking down at her plate. Her eyes lifted, colliding with mine, and I experienced a jolt. It felt as if the air between us sparked. She looked down quickly, and I grabbed another roll, taking a big bite.
Fuck me. It was getting harder and harder to be around her in front of our friends.
ChapterNineteen
HARLEY
The following evening, I got back to the staff house before Grant, which wasn't unusual. I usually got here first. Sometimes I had dinner at the lodge, but I often came back and worked after eating a little early. I needed the quiet to focus.
I was in the kitchen making some tea when my heart felt funny. I ignored the sensation, pouring a generous dollop of honey into my tea and taking a swallow. As I turned to walk across the kitchen, I felt light-headed and fuzzy and knew what was about to happen. I felt myself slipping.
I came to a few minutes later. I glanced up at the clock. Eight minutes had passed since I walked into the kitchen. I felt shaky and wanted to rest on the floor, yet I was galvanized to get myself up. Grant might arrive at any minute.
On unsteady legs, I scrambled to my feet, scanning the floor. My tea had fallen. The mug was broken, and tea had spilled on the floor. Blessedly, I hadn't landed in the spilled tea or
any of the shards from the mug. I hurried to the sink, grabbing the paper towels from the corner of the counter. A moment later, I was sweeping up the glass when I heard the front door open.
“Fuck!” I hissed to myself.
“What?” Grant called.
“Oh, nothing,” I called in return.
Of course, the man had long legs and crossed from the living room area into the kitchen in maybe one second. He stood in the archway between the rooms, surveying the kitchen floor. I had the dustpan in hand. His eyes landed on the shards of the mug.
“What happened?”
“I dropped my tea. I walked too quickly, and it sloshed over. It was hot, so I dropped it,” I lied.
