Chapter 9
CHAPTER NINE
ABBY
I blow on my tea, cooling it before taking a sip, and try not to fidget, aware of Grayson’s gaze on me. His attention must be good, right?
Better than indifference, at least.
It’d been a stroke of luck when he asked to hang out at my place rather than call it an early night, and I’d done the first thing I could think of when we got here, which was to ply him with his favorite snack.
I’d baked the loaf of banana bread last night, trying to come up with a way I could organically give it to him without it being obvious I’d made it specifically for him, knowing he loves it. And here an opportunity has fallen into my lap.
Everything went well during game night, too. I’d not so sneakily suggested the teams, making sure Elena was not on Grayson’s team, and I was. Do I feel a bit guilty about that? Sure. Would I do it again? In a heartbeat.
“We made a pretty good team for game night,” I say.
He nods in response. “We did.”
He’s still looking at me, almost like he’s trying to figure something out, but I don’t know what the question is. I’m not sure if he does either.
“You know, when Harper said game night, I thought she meant card games. Her, me, and Kristen usually play poker together.”
His brows raise. “You three play poker?”
I act mock affronted. “You think I can’t play?”
That crooked grin I was hoping to tease from him makes its appearance. “Only one way to find out. You have a pack of cards around here?”
I set down my tea. “Wait, you want to play now?”
He shrugs. “You got something better to do?”
He’s right. And why in the world am I not jumping on the chance to keep him here longer?
I get up and find the deck of cards and poker chips I keep on my bookshelf in the living room, then return, handing him the deck.
“Wow, you’ve got chips, too?” he asks, eyeing me speculatively. “I underestimated you.”
I should tell him I’m not that good, that it was Harper that brought the chips over, but I hold my tongue. There’s something exciting about him seeing me in a new light.
“I have a lot of hidden talents you haven’t seen.”
Oh my God, did I actually say that out loud? It sounded an awful lot like flirting. And I’m not a flirter. Especially with Grayson.
I open my mouth to take it back, then shut it just as quickly. How can things ever change between us if I don’t push for it? Force him to see me differently?
He smirks in response, something like interest in his gaze as he settles in his chair. “We’ll see about that. I’ve got a few tricks up my sleeve, too. Texas Hold ‘em?”
I nod, praying he doesn’t notice my blush as he shuffles and deals while I distribute poker chips, the number meaningless since there’s no real money behind it.
I take the two private cards he deals me and glance at them. A ten and a four.
“You have a good hand?” he asks. “Don’t think I missed that smile.”
I was smiling at his response to my quip, not my cards, but I keep that to myself. I shrug one shoulder. “Who knows? Maybe I was bluffing.”
His grin grows. “Right.”
I put in two chips for the blind and Grayson calls it, matching my chips.
“Let’s see what the cards have to say.”
He reveals the first three community cards—the ace of hearts, seven of diamonds, and ten of spades.
My heartbeat picks up as I look between my private cards and the flop. Looking good.
“You’re not a good bluffer.”
I quickly school my expression. “Maybe it’s all part of my strategy.”
Grayson checks but doesn’t bet, and I put in four chips.
He laughs in response. “Bold move. But I’ll play along.”
He calls my bet and tosses his chips into the pile forming in the center of the table, then deals the next card—the king of clubs.
Hmm, that doesn’t help me.
“Not your card, huh?”
Damn it. I guess it’s a good thing he wasn’t paying attention all those years or he would have known—
He raises the bet by six chips and I narrow my eyes, unsure if he’s messing with me or has great cards. In for a penny, in for a pound, though. I call.
He deals the final card. It’s the two of hearts. Neither of us can make a flush or straight with this board, so it’s up to what’s in our hands. I attempt to maintain my poker face, even though my pair of tens isn’t as strong as I’d like.
Grayson raises again, this time by ten chips. Good Lord. Then again, he’s always been one to go all or nothing.
Unlike me.
“You think you’ve got me beat, huh?” I chew at my bottom lip, stalling. I could fold now and cut my losses. Grayson wouldn’t raise so much unless he has a decent hand.
He smirks again. “I know I do.”
But this week is about putting myself out there. Taking chances.
“I think you’re bluffing.” I call his bet and match his chips.
We reveal our cards, but my pair of tens can’t beat the king of hearts and king of diamonds in his hand. No wonder he bet so high.
“Looks like I wasn’t bluffing,” he says, scooping up the pile in the center of the table.
No, guess not.
I sit up straighter in my seat. “How about we make things more interesting?”
He gives me a lazy smile as he stacks his chips in neat columns. “Sure. What do you have in mind?”
I swallow, knowing it’s now or never. Take a chance .
“How about strip poker?”
The poker chips he’s setting on the last of his columns clatter to the floor, his gaze swinging to me.
“Didn’t think you had it in you to suggest something like that,” he finally says.
I inhale a deep breath but stand my ground. Fake it till you make it. “I can be full of surprises.”
His grin goes crooked in that way I love. “And hidden talents, right? Well, let’s see how far you’re willing to go then.”
The knot forming in my stomach loosens at his agreement. I don’t know what I would have done if he refused, but it looks like my bluff paid off.
“Don’t expect me to take it easy on you,” he teases, shuffling the deck again.
“Likewise.”
He laughs. “Oh, so you let me win the first round?”
I hold up my hands. “I can neither confirm nor deny.”
He strokes his jaw, then bends to look under the table. “If you take one shoe off, we should be even.”
I do a quick mental calculation. Shirt, jeans, bra, panties, two socks, and two shoes. Presumably he’s not wearing a bra, which leaves me with one extra item of clothing.
I toe off one of my shoes and kick it behind my chair. Leo takes offense to that and stalks out of the kitchen. It’s near the time he winds down for the night, anyway.
“Anything else?” I ask.
“Hmm. No betting. And no folding.”
So only luck then. Even if I’m dealt a bad hand… I’ll have to strip.
But so will he.
“Deal.”
He grins again as he passes out our cards. “You ready to lose more than just your chips?”
I gather my two cards. “Oh, don’t worry. You’ll be the one losing.”
I have no idea where I’m pulling this banter from, but I like it. I like being Flirty Abby. Bold Abby.
So different from Shy Abby, the way I normally am around him.
And even more, I like the way he seems to be flirty right back. I’ve seen that side of him with other women, but never with me. Sure, we agreed a few days ago that we’d flirt to sell the ruse to his mom, but that meant in front of others.
Not alone.
Grayson deals the first three community cards and I hide my excitement when I realize I have a two-pair already of queens and nines.
I glance up at him, but his poker face is excellent. I have no idea if his cards are good or bad. Really, though, is there a downside to winning or losing? If I win, I get to see him, and if he wins, he gets to see me.
Does he want to see you?
I stop short at the small voice inside my head. I hadn’t thought that far ahead. What if I undress and he doesn’t care? Or worse, is repulsed or embarrassed or something? This idea could majorly backfire.
“You have a tell,” he says.
I put an end to my mental criticism and paste on an intrigued expression. “What’s that?”
“You blush.”
The ever-present heat in my cheeks intensifies. I almost tell him it’s rude to point that out, but bite my tongue instead. “Okay, but what you don’t know is if it means I have a good or bad hand.”
He opens his mouth to respond, then shuts it. “Damn.” He chuckles. “You’re right.” He toys with the deck. “Ready for the next card?”
I nod.
It’s the three of hearts, which doesn’t help me at all, but doesn’t hurt either.
“So what does the blush mean?”
I swallow, avoiding his eye. I have no idea how he’s just now realizing I blush around him constantly. Maybe he wasn’t paying attention before.
It seems he is now, though.
“It means you should turn over the final card.”
“Okay, keep your secrets. But I’ll find out before the night is over.”
My face is practically scorching now. His comment makes it sound like we’ll be spending the whole night together. Which we’re obviously not.
What do I think will even happen at the end of this game? One of us will be nude and then… What? He’ll take one look at me and be seduced? Flip the kitchen table over and come at me like a rutting bull?
Or maybe cross over to me and gently pull me out of my seat, his hand softly cupping my jaw, gazing deep into my eyes. Telling me he’s never noticed me before, but now… now he finally sees what he’s been missing all these years. His gaze filled with lust, traveling down my face until it lands on my mouth, his lips parting in response. Then leaning in until we’re a whisper apart, anticipation crackling in the air.
“Last card,” Grayson says, and I snap out of my daydream, the hot flush over my entire body now.
Shit. I need to stop reading so many romance novels.
He turns over the king of spades and I glance at my cards again. I’ve still got my two-pair—a pretty strong contender.
“You look nervous,” he says, and I’m pretty sure there’s a teasing note in his voice. “Afraid I’ll keep up my winning streak?”
I don’t respond, instead laying out my hand. “Two-pair. Queens and nines.”
He winces as he reveals a ten and a six. He has nothing.
My shoulders sag in relief. Yeah, I talked a big game, but the thought of actually stripping…
Grayson grabs the back of his shirt and pulls it over his head, his muscles shifting and contracting. His chest is broad with a light dusting of hair, shoulders wide and rounded, biceps thick. His pecs lead down into defined abs that disappear at the edge of the kitchen table.
Have I seen Grayson shirtless before? Maybe swimming or something? Even if I had, that would have been years ago as a teenager. Nothing compared to now, as a man. A handsome, muscular, sexy—
“Want me to turn around for you? Do a little spin?”
My gaze flicks to his, mortification spreading through me as I realize I was visibly ogling him.
Mirth dances in his eyes, a smirk over his mouth as he waits for my response.
I swallow past the thickness in my throat and honestly say, “I mean, if you want, I won’t stop you.”
He laughs at that, but doesn’t do it. Instead, he picks up the cards and shuffles the deck.
“So no starting with socks and shoes?” I ask, trying to defuse the situation.
“Nah. I figure if we’re doing this, I gotta commit, right?”
A weak chuckle escapes me. I definitely won’t be starting with my shirt. That’ll be one of the last things to go.
The rounds move quickly as we continue playing, since there’s no betting or folding. With it being entirely luck-based, we’re pretty evenly matched half an hour later. We’re both barefoot by now, and I’m left in my shirt, bra, and panties. My jeans were abandoned two rounds ago when he beat me with a pair of aces. And while normally I’m a little chilly in my house, I’m practically sweating now, nervous about both losing or winning this next round. If he wins, I take off my shirt. If I win, he’s left in just his boxers.
“Final card,” Grayson teases, drawing it out in slow motion. He seems to be having a great time, at least, cracking jokes and making quips throughout the game, but especially this last round. I’m not sure if he’s doing it because he feels like it, or specifically because he can sense the growing tension in me.
He finally flips the card over onto the table, and my belly goes loose and light. It’s a four, giving me three of a kind.
I lay my cards out and he groans. “Damn it, Abbs. My ego is a delicate thing.”
He grins to let me know he’s kidding, then stands, unbuttoning his jeans. There’s a dark trail of hair revealed beneath his belly button, disappearing into the edge of his boxer briefs.
Okay, not a boxers man, apparently. The black cotton is snug around his muscular thighs, as well as his…
I look away before he catches me staring again.
“Could be my last round,” he comments as he shuffles and deals. “You’ve got, what?” He takes a quick peek under the table at my bare legs. “Three left?”
I nod and grab the two cards he deals me, internally groaning when they’re both low cards—a two and a five of different suits.
The flop and the turn don’t help any either, and by the time we get to the river, I know I’m screwed. I have nothing playable, not even a high card.
He wins with a measly pair of threes.
So now I have to decide—will I get rid of my shirt or my panties?