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It didn’t take them long to get their fill of food, though Ivan stopped Finley before he could stow the leftovers in the refrigerator. He leaned closer and said, “I’ll give you a hint. Tyler is an emotional eater. When the cards aren’t looking good, he’ll grab a slice of pizza and munch on it.”
“Thanks,” Finley said. “Any other tips you care to share?”
“A card shark like you shouldn’t need them.” Ivan chuckled as he walked away because he knew Finley was full of shit. The foreman resumed his seat and picked up his cards. “Five-card stud. Jacks or better to open. Progressive.”
“Anything wild?” Kieran asked.
“Deuces,” Ivan replied.
The foreman’s laughter at Finley’s expense didn’t last, and he tipped an imaginary hat to Finley after he won the first three hands. It was mostly the luck of the draw, but it didn’t take him long to discover the other players’ tells. Tyler ate when he had a shitty hand but didn’t want to fold. Owen stroked a finger over his brow when he had good cards but still needed one or two to make them great. Ivan shifted in his chair when he got the card he wanted. Dylan didn’t bother to hide his reactions. He snickered when something good happened and groaned when his luck took a downward turn. Rue drummed his fingers on the table when he was bluffing. Kieran was the only opponent who didn’t give his thoughts away, and he didn’t need to hide behind a disguise. Each of the first three hands came down to the two of them, and he knew it was only a matter of time before Kieran started winning some chips back. Turned out he was right because Kieran won the next three.
“Too rich for my blood,” Owen said, tossing his few remaining chips onto Tyler’s pile. He saluted Finley with a piece of cold pizza. “Want to join us again next week?”
Finley smiled. “I’m going to the art festival in Last Chance Creek on Saturday.” Since he was studying Kieran closely, he noticed a slight tick near his mouth. Was that in response to his answer? Did Kieran like art? Did he wonder who Finley was going with?
“That lasts all weekend, right?” Tyler asked. “Can’t you go on Friday and do poker on Saturday?”
“Are you that eager for me to wipe the floor with you again?” Finley asked.
Owen swallowed another bite and said, “We’re in it for the food.”
Finley promised to think about it, then returned his full attention to his hand. Interest waned when the food ran out and the same two players battled for the win each time. One by one, the guys shuffled out of the room in search of better entertainment or bed. Ivan held out the longest, probably acting as chaperone, but even he waved them a goodnight and lumbered down the hall to his bedroom around midnight. And they played on. The stack of chips between Kieran and Finley was even. Neither of them seemed brave enough to risk going all in. Was it because they preferred to play it safe or because their night would end if one of them won it all? Tension built in the room with each hand. Their fingers brushed when dealing cards, their feet bumped under the table, and they stared at one another when not studying their cards. Finley had lost the glasses and hood halfway through the night because he couldn’t see worth a shit and Kieran amped up his body temperature, making his head itchy and sweaty.
Kieran chewed the corner of his mouth while looking at his hand. Finley had thought it was a tell at first, but the assumption had cost him a ton of chips. He focused on his hand and didn’t worry about anything else. Neither had a pair of jacks to open the first round, a pair of queens to open the second, nor a pair of kings to open up the third deal. The next hand required a pair of aces to open the betting, and Finley only had one—the ace of hearts. He also had the ten and queen of hearts, which was a good start toward a royal flush, but it wouldn’t do him a damn bit of good if Kieran couldn’t open the bet. He could technically open with a bluff, but it was pretty damn risky.
He looked up and found dark eyes locked on him. Finley didn’t have a clue if he planned to open or not. Saying nothing, Kieran scooted a tall stack of chips to the center of the table. It was the boldest move he’d made all evening. Maybe he was ready to call it a night. Finley could either place an equal bet or fold. He looked at his cards again. The chances of landing a royal flush were slim, but he reminded himself they weren’t playing for real money. Finley pushed the same size stack of chips to the center and followed it with another.
Kieran pursed his lips and studied his cards. Their eyes met again as Kieran matched his bet.
Finley picked up the deck of cards and said, “How many?” Kieran removed one card from his hand and slid it facedown across the table. Finley swallowed hard, realizing his chances didn’t look good. He dealt the card to Kieran before removing the two off-suit cards from his hand. “The dealer takes two,” he announced. He snapped the top two cards off the pile in front of him and held his breath when he lifted the corners up for a peek.Holy shit.He had the jack and king of hearts to make a royal flush. It became nearly impossible for him to squelch his excitement.
He glanced up and caught Kieran watching him intently. The man didn’t reveal a single thought in his expression or body language. How was that possible? The longer they stared at each other, the harder it became for Finley to remain still and quiet.
“You look so damn smug right now, Eight Mile,” Kieran said. “I should fold.”
Finley placed his elbow on the table and leaned forward. “Why don’t you?”
Kieran pushed the rest of his chips into the center of the table, leaving Finley with only one choice. He added his remaining stash to the kitty and smiled at Kieran and said, “That’s that.”
“Or is it?” Kieran asked.
Finley cocked his head to the side. “Are you suggesting an additional bet?”
Kieran bit his bottom lip and nodded. Finley nearly broke out in a sweat, and his mind raced with the dirtiest wagers he could think of. Win or lose, he wanted to be on his knees for Kieran. “I’m game for anything.” He sounded breathy and bratty.
Kieran swallowed hard and shifted slightly in his chair. “Loser takes the winner’s kitchen duties for a week.” Finley huffed out a sigh of disappointment, earning a smirk. “Too risky?” Kieran asked.
“Too tame,” Finley countered. “But I’ll take it.”
Kieran kept his cool as he laid his cards down to reveal a full house.
“Not bad,” Finley said, then showed his royal flush.
Kieran’s lips parted in surprise. “I don’t believe it.”
“Doesn’t make it less real,” Finley said as he leaned forward and raked in his fake loot. “’Cause I’m damn good.”
“Yeah, you are.” Kieran’s voice was husky and raw, and Finley swore he heard that coyote howling again.
