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“Fancy entertaining the old man, son?”
I shift my gaze from watching my sleeping son to my father waving an unopened pack of cards in my direction. Smiling in response, I lean forward and tug the blanket higher on Jesse’s body before moving across the aisle to sit opposite Dad.
“Poker?”
He nods at my question, opening the packet quickly and shuffling with a speed that belies his age.
“Let’s keep it interesting, though. My favourite Fender for your Ducati.”
I huff darkly. “That’s hardly a fair trade.”
“Are you afraid you’ll lose, mister rock star almighty?” He winks mischievously, devilment flashing brightly in his loving brown eyes. “Do we have a deal or what?”
Shrugging, I give him my hand. “Fine, but it’s your funeral.”
He deals both of us two cards in silence, and despite my eyes being fixed firmly on the cards, I can feel his gaze on me.
“Go on then. Spit it out.” I lift my head suddenly, meeting his concern-filled eyes just before they dart away guiltily.
“You know my feelings, Cade. I wear my heart on my sleeve, son. A trait you’ve inherited, clearly. It’s not a bad thing.”
He deals the Flop before pressing his mouth closed to hide a grin.
“You need to work on your poker face.”
He doesn’t miss a beat, deadpanning from behind his cards.
“You need to work on your forgiveness.”
I ignore his dig as I weigh up my options. A pair of twos in my hand with the Jack and Ace of Hearts alongside another two, giving me three-of-a-kind.
Keeping a straight face, I check. “I’m working on how I do things, Dad. It’s called maturity and learning from my mistakes.”
He checks, then pulls the Turn. Another fucking two.
What are the odds?
I check as my father focuses his eyes on me. “How’s about we make this a little more interesting?”
I narrow my eyes sceptically. “What do you have in mind?”
His familiar brown eyes dance with mischief as he quirks a bushy brow. “Winner’s choice.”
He laughs at my bewildered expression before elaborating. “The loser owes the winner one. Can be anything the winner demands, no questions asked. Full disclosure.”
I glance at my four-of-a-kind, knowing the odds arenotin his favour, then back at my father before inclining my head in assent.
“Okay, I’m game. Play the damn River.”
The ten of hearts is placed face up on the small table between us.
“Okay, let’s see then, old man.”
“Ladies first.”
I shoot my father a look at screamsbite me, but lay my cards on the table.
A low whistle sounds between his lips, and he settles back against his seat.
