Chapter 17 – nate
NATE
Ryan throws down the seven and five of diamonds and smirks at me. “Flush, baby.”
Fuck. I lost with a pair of pocket queens.
Most of our biweekly poker nights, I’m in the running for the top spot. But tonight, I’m playing like shit.
Luke lets out a low whistle. “You didn’t see that coming, Walsh?”
I grunt, dropping my cards down on the table.
I should’ve spotted the possible flush on the table.
Reluctantly, I shove my chips in Ryan’s direction.
He adds them to the already-wobbling stack of chips in front of him, his silver rings glinting in the light.
Then he holds up a shot glass, his World Series of Poker bracelet glinting in the light.
“Fill me up!” he demands.
As a poker pro, Ryan’s fully capable of kicking each of our asses. We had to institute an alcohol handicap to keep things interesting. When he wins a hand, he takes a shot. Otherwise, it’d be a massacre.
Luke pulls out an unlabeled bottle of something amber-colored. “Here. It’s a new blend I’ve been tinkering with for Twisted Devil. I combined traditional oak-barrel aging with cherrywood—”
Before he can finish, Ryan throws back the shot, making Luke grimace.
“That’s a quality blend! You’re supposed to sip that.”
“Then why did you pour it in a shot glass?” Ryan replies.
“I figured if you heard my whole spiel, you’d know this isn’t just well whiskey.”
Beau raises his hand. “Well, to be fair to Ryan, we’ve heard you wax poetic about everything from Pappy Van Winkle to Evan Williams.”
“Because the Evan Williams Bottle-in-Bond bourbon is way better than it has to be,” Luke mutters, crossing his arms.
Luke’s the head distiller for my favorite whiskey brand, Twisted Devil. With my stake, Luke was able to expand his backyard distillery into the fastest growing liquor brand in Canada. But I met him in school. He was the scholarship kid with big ideas and an ever bigger mouth.
None of the other guys would know each other if it wasn’t for me. I went to prep school with James, too, and I got friendly with Beau because his parents parked their food truck right outside the old UPS building when my father still ran things.
Following in their shoes, Beau built a cult following for the artisanal burgers he served out of the food truck window after he took over for his parents at eighteen.
He saved every dime until he was able to invest in Terrace, eventually expanding to a chain of night-clubs and several more higher-end restaurants across the city.
Ryan’s dad was my dad’s lawyer and we spent every summer from the time I turned sixteen until I moved out on his father’s yacht in the Caymans.
Honestly, I couldn’t stand the guy at first, but he grew on me.
He might be a terminal horndog who gets in everyone’s business, but he’s also the most loyal guy I’ve ever met.
He’s still the one who will randomly show up at the airport with a sign that says ‘congrats on your parole’ even though we all have private drivers and car service now.
James takes the cards from Luke and deals them out with machine-like precision. I keep my face relaxed when I peek at my hand. A three and a nine, a pretty shitty deal. For once, I’m grateful for it. I’ve been having trouble focusing all night, and it’ll be a relief to sit out a round.
I fucked up with Cat in New York. I know I did. I’ve been beating myself up for it ever since. Whenever she’s at her most vulnerable, I find some reason to swoop in.
Hours after she was shamelessly sexually harassed by an executive, I was shoving her against a window and pulling up her skirt so I could finger her. Fuck, I would have done worse than that if we hadn’t been interrupted.
I know she regrets it. I could see it in her face the second she heard room service knock on the door.
She got carried away in the moment, chasing what felt good.
But in her post-orgasm clarity, she saw what a bad idea it was.
Even though we haven’t discussed it, I suspect she knows I’m not looking for a relationship.
It’s been three weeks since the disastrous trip, and I still feel a stab of guilt whenever I see her.
I’ve purposefully scheduled business trips to get me away from my own office for a few days, just to have an escape.
At least it’s sped up the timeline on acquiring Edmonton Security, a company I’ve had my eye on for a bit.
Even if I care less about my business than I ever have.
Instead of contemplating strategies when I have a free moment, I daydream about the noises she made when I made her come.
“Hey Nate, are you in or not?” Beau demands, interrupting my thoughts.
Looking up, I realize that I’m the only one who hasn’t thrown in my ante. I toss my cards onto the table. “I’m out.”
James prods my elbow with his. “What’s up with you? You’ve been distracted all night.”
Fuck. James is the quietest of us all, and by far the most observant. But he’s also the coldest and sometimes cruelest motherfucker I know, so if he’s the one asking, he’s legitimately worried.
“It’s nothing,” I say quickly.
“It’s a girl,” Ryan says. “The Toronto Tea says you were getting all cozy with some woman in New York.”
“You read that fucking gossip blog?” I scoff.
“Hell yeah, I do!” Ryan leans back in his chair, hands behind his head, totally unashamed. “Whoever writes it, they’re obsessed with printing stories about us. They’re hysterical.”
“They’re mostly bullshit,” Luke says.
“That’s what makes them funny. Nothing brightens up my Monday like reading about how James knocked up Margot Robbie and Jennifer Lawrence in a coke-fueled threesome.”
James rolls his eyes. “Ridiculous. Jen and Margot are costarring in a movie for Sequel. Some jerk snuck pictures of us at a business dinner, and suddenly it’s all the Toronto Tea can talk about.”
“See? He reads it, too!” Ryan points at James.
“No, I don’t,” James replies coldly, like the ‘The Villain’ the Toronto Tea likes to refer to him as . “My publicist assembles clippings from everyone who writes about me. It’s business.”
“So, who’s the woman?” Luke asks. When I glare at him, he shrugs. “What? After all that build-up, I’m curious.”
Four pairs of eyes are fixed on me. Even James looks mildly interested, the traitor. If I try and put off answering any longer, it’s only going to make them grill me harder.
“You know Caitlin Daniels, the waitress at Terrace Steakhouse?” I sip my whiskey, trying to look disinterested. “We talked about her looking for work while she was staying with me, and I hired her as my assistant. That’s why you’ve seen us together. Nothing exciting.”
“But she has a job,” Beau says. “With me. I know for a fact she’s not underpaid.”
“She’s too good a person. She gives away probably half of what she makes to this homeless shelter where she volunteers.”
Ryan barks a laugh. “So she’s basically a saint, and way too good for you.”
I narrow my eyes. “I’m her boss.”
“So you haven’t noticed how hot she is,” Beau says.
When I scowl at him, he grins. “What? I’m her boss too, but that doesn’t mean I don’t have eyes.
Cat’s got that sunshine vibe, you know? Always smiling.
Got those big doe eyes and even bigger heart, but I can tell kitty’s got some claws, too?
Am I right? Man, she’s exactly your type. ”
“I don’t have a type.”
“Please, we all have types,” Ryan says. “James goes for ice queens because he doesn’t have a heart, Beau wants the girl next door, but without the strings attached, and Luke likes a challenge. Someone out of his league. A little spitfire. Isn’t that right, Luke?”
“What’s your type, then?” James asks before Luke can answer.
Ryan smiles. “Hot girls. All flavors. My mind is open. And if you don’t want Cat, maybe I’ll take a shot.”
“No,” Beau and I say in unison, and Ryan raises his hands in mock surrender.
“Fine, fine. Let’s get back to the game so I can take all your chips.”
When the other three guys are drawn into a hand, James leans toward me.
“Tell me,” he murmurs. “You and your assistant—are you sure you know what you’re doing there?”
No.
I have no idea what the fuck I’m doing.
I don’t even have to say it out loud. James sees the answer in my face and grimaces.
“Careful, Nate. There’s trouble down that road.”
“Don’t I know it,” I mutter.