Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 103008 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 515(@200wpm)___ 412(@250wpm)___ 343(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103008 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 515(@200wpm)___ 412(@250wpm)___ 343(@300wpm)
Maybe this is what he does on his days off.
Being here, where no one knows where I am, not even Gideon because I forgot to call him—oops—Brix is practically off the clock.
It’s warm here inside Trav’s big boy’s room. It’s like a man cave but classier. It has a professional poker table, a bar in one corner, and a fireplace that’s heating up the room.
Reluctantly, I slip Brix’s jacket off my shoulders. I liked wearing it even if it’s four sizes too big. It smells like his spicy cologne.
“Yo, Pop Star,” Iris says. “You know how to play?” He shuffles a deck of cards so fast I have to wonder if he was a blackjack dealer in a past life.
“A little. I mean, not really. I guess?” I shrug. “Poor sheltered pop star again.”
That is what we call bluffing.
“We’ll be gentle.” Iris winks.
“Beer?” One of the other guys appears beside me with a bottle.
I take it even though I don’t like beer. I don’t want to turn all Evah on them, but beer has so many calories and doesn’t even taste that great.
When I was put on my diet back in those Eleven days, I’d always ask myself the worthiness of the calories. A piece of cake was not worth two hours on a treadmill. Caramel Frappuccino with whipped cream and extra caramel topping? Fill me up and put me on an elliptical machine. Right now.
If I can make this one drink last all night, my trainer won’t kick my ass tomorrow during our session.
After I make Brix taste it first. I shove it in front of his face and stare at him expectantly.
He takes a sip, handing it straight back to me with a sarcastic smile. I didn’t realize sarcasm came in a facial expression until now.
We play five-card draw, and the first few hands, I waffle and pretend I don’t know what I’m doing. I mostly fold, even when I have a decent-ish hand. I’m waiting for the pot to grow nice and big before I make my move. I want to play smart.
And when the opportunity comes up, and the pot is a decent size, I try to keep my face passive.
Iris, Brix, and I are the only ones left in.
“Maybe you guys should fold and give it to me?”
Brix folds immediately. “I’m out.”
Iris glances at his teammate. “Really? Giving in to him that easily? There’s something about his innocent face I don’t trust. He’s totally bluffing.”
“What’s bluffing?” I ask and cock my head.
“Okay, fuck it, I’m out too.” Iris throws his cards down.
“Thanks.” While I start dragging my winnings toward me, I feel Brix’s intense stare.
“What did you have?”
“A pair of queens. Good, no?”
Iris gapes. “A pair of … a …” He clears his throat. “Yeah … great hand.”
When I do have something good, I push it hard. Bet big right off the bat.
Iris is quick to raise, probably thinking it’ll be easy money. The others play too. All of them are staring at me to see what I’m going to do.
“Call.”
Someone else raises, so we go around again. We lose a few, but Iris, me, and the one who’s called Map … or Atlas … Globe? Whatever his name is—the one who was a SEAL—is still in.
“Two pair,” Iris says. “With aces.”
“Full house.” The ex-SEAL puts down his cards.
“Damn. Those are both really good hands. I only have four tens.” I lay my cards flat.
Brix bursts out laughing. “He’s totally playing you all.”
“What? Did I win?”
“You’re cute as hell, but I know when you’re lying, remember?” His finger trails down my cheek, and I have the sudden urge to lean into it.
Then I remember where we are.
He pulls his hand away, way too soon for my liking.
“You let everyone know my tell?” My voice is croaky, but I can blame it on being pretend angry right now.
“I’m so confused,” Angel says.
“He has to have played poker before,” Brix accuses.
“Fine. I have. A lot. Do you know what it’s like for five guys to be on a tour bus for sometimes twelve hours at a time? It’s boring.”
Everyone snickers.
“Yeah, we know a little about being stuck in places for long stretches of time,” Angel says.
“Oh. Duh.”
One of the others, I forget his name, says, “Plus, when you’re trying to avoid going out to local scenes because you know they’re not your … preferred company, you hide behind game nights with ‘bro-dudes.’”
“Bro-dudes,” I murmur.
“Fuck buddies.”
I try not to let my surprise show, but it must.
Trav leans forward. “Gideon never told you why I started this company, did he?”
“He hasn’t told me much at all. I thought you were a security firm. Like a rent-a-cop place. Not … rent-a-badass.”
Everyone laughs at me. I haven’t decided if they think I’m funny or naïve. Probably both. Most likely the latter.
“Harley, we all identify as LGBTQ—”