Well, clearly what she’d thought had been irrelevant.
By some miracle her hands didn’t falter in the next deal. Muscle memory was a wonderful thing, she supposed. She should’ve been focused on the game and the other players, yet one question screeched incessantly through her mind: why was he here?
“What brings you to the Silver Aces this evening, Mr. Jameson,” she said, oozing professional courtesy. If they’d met on the street she might have tackled him. She indulged in a quick fantasy of wrapping her hands around his throat until that sexy half-grin disappeared.
“Mr. Jameson? That’s my dad’s name. You always called me Wyatt.” He smiled at the other players. “We went to high school together.”
That earned both of them a round of vaguely curious murmurs and glances from the others at the table. Evelyn called for opening bets, motioning to him as she would any other overly-chatty player and moving the game along. The casino only made money when the cards and money were flowing, and the casino was her priority, not unanswerable questions.
This time Wyatt lost. She mentally gave Lady Luck a high five. Normally winning or losing only troubled her if a player was rude or belligerent about it. Not this time. As soon as shereached the relative privacy of the breakroom, she was going to give in to the whoop of delight swirling inside her.
Her thoughts might be mildly inappropriate, but no one would know or care. Especially not Wyatt. If he’d cared about her at all, he would’ve taken a minute to say goodbye before walking out of her life.
Her replacement walked up, timing the changeover perfectly. “That’s it for me, gentleman.” She smiled at each of the men around her table, including Wyatt, as she gathered her tips, including the chip from Wyatt. “It’s been a pleasure and I wish each of you the best of luck here at the Silver Aces.”
Doing the job well was far more important, and more mature, than indulging her childish vindictive streak and sticking out her tongue as she walked by her old flame.
Her father hated that she spent the off-season in the casino but without the seasonal work, they would’ve lost the business five years ago. She’d long ago stopped pointing out that her expansion ideas would put an end to her days of dealing poker. That line of thinking only created more resentment, one thing her personal life didn’t need more of, so she cut it short.
There was a petty victory cheer and a dance of joy in her immediate future just as soon as she exited the casino floor.
“Evie?”
She flinched at the sound of the nickname that was used so rarely these days. Of course Wyatt had followed her. Of course he would revert to that old familiarity, sweeping her back to the days when they’d thought they were unstoppable and love would last forever. She walked on, refusing to turn around.
“Can we talk?”
“No.”No, no, no!The hurt and angry teenager standing guard at the wall she’d build around her heart screamed. He didn’t deserve another minute of her time.
“Please?” He fell into step beside her.
Slot machines chimed and jingled all around them. Lights flashed and a ticker high on the wall showed the odds on the upcoming heavyweight boxing match in Las Vegas as well as a tennis tournament in Shanghai.
All of that overwhelming stimulus and yet her senses were dialed in on Wyatt. The natural feel of him striding beside her and the enticing scent of his skin drew her back. Why? After eleven years, neither of those factors should be familiar. They were both different people, two adults on paths that should never intersect.
As the past threatened to swamp her, she considered whathadchanged. His youthful athletic build had filled out. That short beard sculpting his jaw made her fingers tingle with the urge to touch. There was a subtle hitch in his gait that she couldn’t quite pin down. He was in a casino, for crying out loud, and playing poker with the skill of a man who did so regularly.
That stopped her. She gathered her composure and schooled her expression as she faced him. She was still on the floor, and therefore still required to maintain an upbeat, positive experience for every guest. Her feelings were irrelevant. The security cameras catching this exchange from every possible angle would only see a valued customer speaking with an employee. Wyatt hadn’t taken a threatening position or been rude. She had to respond properly.
“Of course we can talk.” She smiled. Cool, detached. “What would you like to discuss, Mr. Jameson?”
Flags of color stained his bold cheekbones and his lips flat-lined, framed by the fashionably scruffy beard.
“Evie—”
“Ms. Cotton,” she corrected. “Please. We pride ourselves on our superb and always-appropriate customer service, Mr. Jameson.”
“Would you stop?” He crowded her without moving a muscle. “It’s me.”
Yes, that was exactly why this entire encounter pushed the needle well beyond bizarre. “Are you with the weather service now or something?” It was the only plausible explanation she could think of for Wyatt’s appearance in a Deadwood casino.
“What?” He shook his head. “No. There has to be somewhere we can speak privately.” His voice rumbled over her, abrading her senses as effectively as his whiskers might. If she gave him the chance to get that close. Which she couldn’t do here. Or anywhere.
While holding the professional smile, she shook her head slightly. “Not here.”
For her ‘here’ included the casino, the shops, the restaurants and Deadwood as a whole. She wouldn’t go anywhere with him. Couldn’t. Being this close, recognizing the flare of heat in his blue gaze, made her want to forget everything he’d put her through and hit a reset switch.
She knew better, had to cling to logic and reason, even if her body was a traitor and didn’t care about the way he’d crushed her heart. Yes, he looked good enough to eat and the slight hitch in his step somehow added to the swagger.
