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The big guy narrowed his eyes. “Why tonight?”
Finley tried for a casual shrug, but it felt more like a nervous twitch. “First you bust my balls for never playing, and now you’re going to give me the third degree when I relent?”
“Third degree? It was a single question.” Realization dawned slowly on Ivan’s face before his handsome features morphed into a scowl. “The new guy is going to be there, and you want to make a good impression.”
“Do not,” Finley scoffed. He shifted his gaze to the menu in his hand and mentally prepared an order.
“Mmmhmm.” Ivan’s tone said it all. “It’s fine with me if you want to fancy up poker night for the hot guy, but don’t forget to order the stuff the rest of us like too.”
Finley snapped his head up to meet Ivan’s gaze. “Pepperoni, pineapple, and anchovies.” Ivan’s lips curled into a sneer, and it was impossible to tell which annoyed him more—the pineapple or the anchovies. “I wouldn’t dream of forgetting the standard meat lover’s or supreme pizza. I just thought I’d add some wings, garlic knots, and a few other options.”
Ivan pursed his lips and rocked his head from right to left. “I wouldn’t turn up my nose at either of those options. Kind of annoyed I hadn’t thought of it myself.”
“Harriet, the hostess with the mostest, isn’t your sister, so you’re excused.”
The big man arched a brow, and Finley prepared to have his first bluff called that evening. Instead, Ivan said, “I want to try the atomic wings.”
Finley tapped his temple. “Already on the list.”
“Let me know how much I owe you,” Ivan said.
Finley was going to protest and insist on paying for the extra food, then thought better of it when he saw Ivan’s scowl. “Okay,” he said.
The foreman shook his head and walked away. “I’ll pick up the order so you can have extra time to primp for Romeo,” Ivan called over his shoulder.
Finley tried to come up with an appropriate rebuttal, but he hadn’t thought of one by the time Ivan’s bedroom door shut with a firmclick,making his friend’s displeasure known. He rolled his eyes and placed the order, texted the amount and pickup time to Ivan, then retreated to his room to find something to wear. Fifteen minutes into the search, Finley realized he was treating poker night like a date and returned the pressed Western-style shirts to his closet. He yanked a faded gray hoodie off the hanger and closed the door—literally and figuratively. No more debating outfits or his motives. In the shower, he spent his time replaying video clips he’d watched on YouTube instead of easing the ache between his legs. Finley caught himself reaching for the cologne on top of his dresser and stopped.Poker night. Not a date.But his heart sank when he caught his reflection in the mirror. Finley’s eyes shimmered with excitement and anticipation that had nothing to do with playing cards. No wonder Ivan had called his bluff. He didn’t have cartoon heart eyes popping out of his head, but he might as well have.
“No. This is not a date, and I’m not romantically interested in Kieran.”I just really want to fuck him until neither of us can see straight.No, Finley shook his head, half expecting his reflection to have a life of its own like inMary Poppins. No doubt his body double would nod vigorously or laugh at his ridiculous claim.
“Yo, Finley,” Tyler called from downstairs. “Food’s here. You already look pretty enough, so get down here.”
Finley and his reflection scowled at one another. He was not pretty. His jaw was too square and his bone structure too prominent. The only remotely lush or soft feature was his mouth, and he had received plenty of compliments about it from his romantic partners. Finley had even seen Kieran’s focus drop to his lips a time or two when he spoke. That he reached for his lip balm had zero to do with impressing Kieran; his lips looked dry. Nothing more. Finley couldn’t sit around the table with the guys until he got his emotions in check. He tried to summon a topic that would take his mind in the opposite direction of lust and attraction. He either was too tired to think of something or he just didn’t want it badly enough because his mind drew a blank.
“We’ll eat without you,” Owen yelled up the stairs.
That got Finley moving. Inspiration struck when he spotted a pair of sunglasses on top of his dresser. Several of the poker professionals wore accessories at the table. Some probably wanted to look cool, but others wanted to hide their tells. He snagged his shades and debated footwear. He decided against his boots and padded down the stairs in his socks instead, which meant the rest of the crew didn’t hear his approach.
“This is some spread,” Dylan said. “Is it someone’s birthday?”
Finley pulled up short outside the dining room, where everyone had gathered to eat before the games started.
“Finley picked the menu,” Ivan said. “He put together a welcome for the new guy.” His voice was as soft as ever and devoid of emotion to anyone but Finley, who felt the unspoken insinuation in his marrow.
A soft thump reached his ear, followed by Rue’s exuberant, “Welcome, Kier.” He must’ve slapped Kieran on the back.
Finley had halfway convinced himself that Kieran wouldn’t show, but there he was.Kier, huh?The aloof man didn’t strike him as someone who used nicknames. Had Rue made that up, or was it a name Kieran had shared with him? Finley hadn’t asked how his trip to town went, but it appeared the two men had gotten along well.
“Thanks, man,” Kieran replied softly.
“Wow,” Tyler said. “Finley’s coming to poker night? That never happens.”
“As surprising as that is, I’m more shocked that he hasn’t found his next ex-boyfriend yet,” Owen teased.
“Who had Finley still single after six months?” Tyler asked.
Ugh.He’d forgotten all about the crew’s stupid bet. Finley knew the guys meant nothing with their comments, and it wasn’t anything they hadn’t said to his face multiple times. He wasn’t hurt or angry, but he wasn’t sure how to enter without them knowing he’d listened outside the dining room like a creeper.
“Y’all can be assholes,” Rueben told them. “Pretty sure I would shut up and eat the food if I were you. My abuela used to say, ‘Rue, if you look a gift horse in the mouth, it might just haul off and bite you.’”
