Josh shot him a grateful look.
Jack sat with his back to the wall, angling his chair to keep an eye on the entrance. Like a cop. Or, he thought, looking around the table, a guy recently returned from a war zone. Luke and his Marine pals had already commandeered the chairs on the other side, facing the door. Guarding their backs, watching the entrance. Clearly, they’d had the same idea. The same training.
Matt dealt the cards.
Sam, Jack thought as the game progressed, was his only competition, the only one watching as the others picked up their cards, the one who understood that you played your opponents and not your hand.
Matt was shrewd but conservative, betting the cards he was dealt, never taking the big risks that rake in the pot. Tom’s expression never changed, but he had a significant tell, glancing at his stack of chips on every strong hand. Josh threw everything he had into the game, betting, bluffing, and losing with boyish enthusiasm. The Marines had skills. In a Muslim country, cards were pretty much the only acceptable vice to while away the long hours of tension and boredom. But they drank more than the others, and young Danny Hill kept texting his wife.
“Sorry,” he said, looking up. “This is the first night I’ve been away since we got back.”
Luke was a fine player, alert and careful, but his heart wasn’t really in the game.
When Jack bluffed him with a pair of threes, Tom rolled his eyes to the ceiling. “Shit, son, didn’t I teach you better than that?”
Luke grinned, unapologetic. “Guess I’ve got other things on my mind.”
Matt smiled. “Understandable.”
Sam, who was sitting out this hand, set another plate of sandwiches on the table. “I’ve got orders to keep you away from the inn until eleven. Deal.”
Eleven, Jack thought. He’d told Lauren it would be an early night. Buteleven?
Get over it, Rossi. You’re not in Philly anymore.
Not too late at all, Lauren said in his head, her warm eyes glowing, her lips curving, and his dick surged behind his fly. Like he was Josh’s age again, when every random thought gave him a hard-on.
Jack dropped his gaze to his cards, shifting in his chair, giving himself a moment to recover.
“You betting? Or playing with yourself?” Tom wanted to know.
Jack grinned and tossed the required bid into the pot.
Rafe Slater, one of the Marines, reached a long arm for another beer from the bar, offered a bottle to Luke.
Luke gave a quick shake of his head. “I’m good for now.”
“Jesus, pal, you’re getting married in four days. You can’t be whipped already. Gotta drink up while you can.”
Jack knew, because Luke had told him, that Kate Dolan’s old man was a hard-drinking Marine who took his career frustrations out on his wife and daughter until he died. Obviously Luke didn’t intend to provoke bad memories in his bride by stumbling home to her reeking of alcohol.
But this was his bachelor party. It wouldn’t hurt to keep an eye out.
The last hand ended near midnight when every man but Jack and Sam was out. Jack got a queen on the final deal and won with an ace-high straight.
Sam shrugged philosophically as he turned over his two pair. “You got lucky tonight, pal.”
That was the plan.
Jack smiled and pushed the pot across the table.
Luke looked down at Jack’s winnings and raised his eyebrows. “What’s this?”
“Wedding present,” Jack said and stood. “Who needs a ride?”
“We’re good,” Matt said.
Josh grinned. “I’m designated driver.”
