She said nothing, as was customary in this room.
But the men who wanted some asked for drinks.
I pointed to my coffee cup, getting a nod from her.
“You never have drinks with us,” one of the other players, Robert, one of the country’s most esteemed neurosurgeons (who, by best estimates, made about two million a year) said.
“And that’s why I keep whipping your ass, Rob,” I said with a friendly smirk that had him laughing.
Across from me, Harrison’s lips tipped up but didn’t quite smile.
When his drink came, he’d ordered…
“You’re drinking… milk?” The question burst out of me before I could stop it.
A slow smile tugged at his lips.
“I like to win too.”
Okay.
That was hot too.
Suddenly, I didn’t care so much about the cards. I was replaying a conversation I’d just had with my cousin in my head. Mostly about hookups and how they could be fun if you were in the mood for them.
Harrison?
He looked like he might be a lot of fun.
Maybe I could call it an early night despite being on a heater, get a few drinks with a sharply dressed businessman, and invite him back to my room.
Suits weren’t usually my type.
I’d grown up around rough-and-tumble bikers. I tended to like my guys cocky, straight-talking, and unpolished.
But something about this guy told me that once you got him unbuttoned, he would be just as wild as the kind of men I was used to.
“Call,” I said, tossing the chips toward the center of the table.
“So, Layna,” Robert said, shuffling his cards around. “Between tournaments?”
“I had one last night,” I told him.
“Did you win?”
“Leo was there,” I said, getting a grunt.
I was a great poker player. But the reigning champion, I was not. Still, I did just fine. Better. I was extremely comfortable.
“Did he take your shirt?” Robert asked.
“Stop trying to picture me with my top off, there, Rob,” I said, getting a snort from another player. “I was happy with my winnings,” I added. “Then decided to hang back and double it.”
I glanced down at my pile of chips. I had another just-as-big stack sitting in a boot in my hotel room, waiting to be cashed in.
That little act of control was how I managed to beat the accusations of gambling addiction. I didn’t have to spend it all. In fact, I rarely did. I would only let myself lose a few hands before I called it a night.
Poker was my job.
