“Nope,” Killian says immediately. “You’re off duty, woman. Have a seat.”
“He’s right,” Sebastian adds. “We’re big boys. We can get our own drinks.”
“Yeah, sit,” Orry says, nodding toward the open chair. “Join in. Shepherd can spare some chips.”
“I don’t really know what I’m doing when it comes to poker.”
“Doesn’t matter,” I say, placing my hand lightly on her lower back. “I’ll teach you.”
Jake snorts. “The blind leading the blind.”
“Shut up, Jake,” I mutter, guiding Sutton toward the chair that was somehow placed next to mine while we were outside. Seb winks at me, letting me know it was him. At least my brothers are good for something. Well, Sebastian, anyway.
He’s always been my favorite.
Sutton slides into the seat, her body angled slightly toward me. I catch a whiff of her scent—something citrusy mixed withthe faint smell of whiskey from the bar—and it takes everything in me not to lean closer.
“Alright,” Killian announces, shuffling the deck with practiced ease. “Let’s show Sutton how we do poker night.”
“You mean poorly?” Bennett suggests with a laugh.
“And with excessive trash talk,” Bishop adds.
“And questionable snack choices,” Kyler chimes in, gesturing to the pile of half-eaten beef jerky, an open box of Twinkies, and pretzels scattered across the table.
Sutton glances at me, a small smile playing on her lips. “So, this is what professional athletes do on their nights off? Eat gas station snacks and trade money?”
“Hey, these are premium gas station snacks,” Killian protests, holding up a bag defensively. “I’ll have you know these are artisanal beef sticks.”
Sutton plucks one from the pile, examining it critically. “Ah yes. Gas Station Gourmet, indeed. Very exclusive.”
The guys laugh, and I can’t help the pride that swells in my chest watching her effortlessly slide into our chaos. She’s different here than at the bar. She seems a little looser, her guard not completely down but lowered just enough that I can see glimpses of who she is when she’s not bracing for impact.
“Alright,” I say, sliding half my chips toward her. “The basics are simple. Best five-card hand wins.”
“I know that much,” she says, arranging the chips in neat stacks. “I’ve seen movies.”
Jake snorts. “Oh, we’ve got a pro here.”
“Watch it,” I warn him, but Sutton just smirks.
“Deal me in,” she says, leaning forward slightly. “I’m a fast learner.”
Killian raises an eyebrow at me across the table, and I know exactly what he’s thinking. I shake my head subtly, thoughSutton catches it. Her eyes flick between us, that sharp bartender instinct kicking in.
“What was that?” she asks.
“Nothing,” I say quickly.
“Bullshit,” she counters, her voice low enough that only I can hear. “You two just had an entire conversation with your eyebrows.”
I smile at her perceptiveness. “Haynes family telepathy. Years of practice.”
She nudges me with her elbow, her eyes narrowed playfully. “Spill it, quarterback.”
“He’s wondering if I’m going to let you see my cards,” I admit quietly. “Which would technically be cheating.”
“And are you?” she whispers, leaning closer, her breath warm against my ear.
