Chapter 18
JANIE
Putting Maya to bed was always the highlight of my day.
She wasn’t much for physical affection these days, but at bedtime she still wanted to rest her head on my shoulder while I read to her from her favorite baby books even though she had graduated to chapter books a couple years ago.
I knew these moments wouldn’t last forever, so I soaked up every bit of it.
These were the memories I wanted to hold tight to—not the meltdowns and tears, the exhaustion and feelings of guilt and failure.
Although I planned to cling to the look on Jack’s face when he realized that he had been tricked by a little girl until my dying breath. Priceless.
Still grinning to myself, I padded to the kitchen for some chamomile tea, pulling up short when I realized he was at the table, with a deck of cards laid out in a game of solitaire. “Oh. Um, hi.”
He looked up. “Hi.”
I shifted my weight from one foot to the other. “I didn’t realize you were still up.”
“It’s eight-fifteen, Janie. I’m not that old.”
My gaze slid to the digital clock on the oven behind him just in time to see the numbers flip from 8:14 to 8:15.
No watch, no phone. Seriously, how did he do that?
Time was so slippery to me. I was always running late or trying to catch up.
Twenty minutes might pass and I’d think it was only two. But Jack? He just knew.
“I meant, I thought you were in your room,” I said, slightly disgruntled, as I filled the kettle from the tap and put it on the stove to boil.
“I’m out here most evenings until about ten o’clock. Which you would know if you weren’t always hiding in your room,” he teased.
“I’m not hiding. I’m…”
“Janie.” He gave me a look that said he saw right through my bullshit. “You’re hiding.”
Okay, maybe I was. Jack had been living here for ten days now, and I was still on edge about it. I wasn’t avoiding him. I was just avoiding being alone with him. Maya made a good buffer. As long as she was around, I wouldn’t be tempted to rip his clothes off.
“Whatever,” I muttered. “Do you want some tea?”
“That depends. Are you going to stick around and drink it with me, or are you going to hightail it back to your room like a scared little rabbit?”
“Is that your way of saying you want company?”
He chuckled softly. “I want your company, Ace. I’ve barely seen you since I moved in. I used to stop by the bar every afternoon just to play cards and hang out with you. Remember that?”
Was that really only two weeks ago? It felt like forever.
I missed it, truth be told. I missed that thrum of anticipation that shivered through me every time he walked through the door of the Painted Cat.
We had been on the cusp of something great.
I had felt it in my bones with every not-so-accidental brush of his hand against mine, every look, every tease.
I was glad he was here. I needed him here. Maya needed him here.
But damn. It was like being sucker punched in the face with a bucket of ice water.
I knew I couldn’t have him the way I wanted, but that didn’t mean we couldn’t still be friends, right?
I pulled two mugs down from the cabinet. “Deal me in.”
He scooped up the cards, knocking the ends against the table until they all lined up in a neat pile. “What are we playing?”
“Your choice.”
The kettle whistled. I poured the boiling water over the teabags and brought both mugs to the table, setting them aside to steep.
I looked at him expectantly. “So?”
“Poker.” His smile was slow and suggestive, but there was nothing lazy in the sharp gleam of his blue eyes. “Strip poker.”
I gave him my best I don’t fucking think so look. Being Maya’s mom, I’d had a lot of practice. “I’m not taking off my clothes in the kitchen with my daughter sleeping twenty feet away. No, scratch that. You’re not taking off your clothes in the kitchen with my daughter sleeping twenty feet away.”
He laughed. “We’re not taking off clothes. We’re taking off secrets.”
I was instantly intrigued. “What do you mean?”
“You lose a hand, you tell a secret. A real secret. None of this, oh, I don’t actually separate whites and colors in the laundry bullshit.”
“I don’t separate whites and colors. That’s not a secret.”
“Good. Then you understand the rules. You in?”
“This is dumb,” I complained. “I can’t bluff. I can’t read people for shit. You’re going to win every hand and the only person spilling secrets will be me.”
“Maybe. But all the skill in the world can’t fix a bad hand. A lot of poker is luck. I could lose.” He rocked back in his chair, balancing on the two back legs, hands clasped behind his head, smirking. “I have a lot of good secrets, Ace.”
God, that fucking smirk. He knew I couldn’t resist. I wanted to smack it off him. Or kiss it off him.
“You’re the luckiest person I know,” I grumbled, giving my teabag a good dunking. “Anyone else with wounds to match your scars would be dead by now.”
His grin widened. “Are you in?”
My stare was withering. “Obviously.”
“Excellent.” The front legs of the chair met the tiled floor with a gentle thud. “Five card draw.”
“We need chips. The only kind I have is chocolate.” I grabbed the bag from the pantry, dumped the chocolate chips into two small glass bowls, and brought them to the table. “Pretend they’re even.”
“Works for me.” He pushed the card deck toward me. “You deal. Then you’ll know it’s fair.”
“Exactly.” I pushed it back. “If I’m going to lose, I need a scapegoat and I prefer not to direct my ire inward. It’s uncomfy.”
Laughing, he gave the cards one last shuffle and then dealt.
I studied my hand. Crap. Of course it was crap. An ace, a three, a seven, a jack, and a nine. Nothing remotely matched. I heaved a sigh before I remembered I wasn’t supposed to be making this easy on him. My gaze shot to his. He was already watching me, his lips tilted in a wry smile.
“Make your bet, Ace.”
I tossed down three chocolate chips. “Why do you call me that?”
“It’s a secret,” he murmured, matching my bet. “Win a hand to find out.”
I blew a raspberry at him and slid him four cards, keeping only my ace. I got back two jacks, a four, and a five. Dammit. I groaned. A pair was better than nothing, but shit. If I’d kept that jack, I’d have three of a kind—not great, but decent.
“Raise,” I said, adding three more chips to the pot.
He snorted. “After that groan, you don’t really expect me to fold, do you? Call.”
I turned over my cards. He turned over his.
All diamonds. A flush.
His eyes glinted at me. “Take off a secret, Janie.”
I didn’t have a lot of secrets. Really just the one big one. I chewed the inside of my cheek. Maybe I could break it down into smaller bites. That was fair, right? No one removed both shoes at a time playing strip poker.
“What do you want to know?” I asked carefully.
He didn’t even have to think about it. His response was instantaneous. “Why do you work at the Painted Cat? I saw your diploma in the closet with the Legos. You have a degree from Georgetown University in public policy. Why aren’t you using it?”
I lifted a shoulder and reached for my tea. “Those are two different questions. Pick one.”
“Why are you working at the Painted Cat?”
I was actually relieved. That was the easy one.
The other question…well, it opened a whole other an of worms. “It’s the only place in Aspen Springs without any ties to my parents.
They own most of the real estate on First Street.
They’re the bank’s biggest client. They donate more money to the schools and library than everyone else combined.
There’s literally nowhere in this town that doesn’t owe my parents something, even if it’s only a favor. ”
He stared at me, aghast. “They wouldn’t let anyone hire you?”
“No, it’s not that. I’d definitely get any job I applied for—they’d make sure of that. And then that job would come with strings, and they would absolutely pull those strings. I refuse to be their puppet.” Even when it’s in my best interest.
He stared at me, his fingertips white where he gripped his mug. A muscle ticked in his jaw.
“But they don’t have anything to do with the Painted Cat.
They don’t own the building or the land.
Brax bought it free and clear. He doesn’t even have a mortgage.
He said something about an investor, but as long as it’s not my parents, it doesn’t matter to me.
It might not pay a lot, but at least it’s really mine. No strings. They can’t touch me there.”
“But you still talk to them. Even though they pull this shit. Even after everything with Maya.” That muscle in his cheek popped again.
“Well, yeah. I mean, they’re my parents. They love me, even if the only way they know how to show it is by exerting control. And they love Maya. So.” I shrugged. “It is what it is. They came through for me when I needed them most. That counts for something.”
He opened his mouth, but I shook my head. “No more questions. I gave you my secret. If you want more, you have to win another round.”
Which I was absolutely not going to let happen. I couldn’t cheat any better than I could lie, but I could toss my cards on the table and storm away like an angry toddler, and by god, I would do it if I had to.
Something of that must have shown up on my face, because he bumped his foot against mine. “Play fair, Janie.”
Making a face at him, I shuffled and dealt. A queen, three eights, and a ten. When he bet five chips, I matched him and traded my ten for another queen. Full house.
“Great,” I mumbled. “Now you’re going to think I cheated.”
“Janie.”
I peeked up at him over my cards. “What?”
“Jesus. You really can’t bluff.” He pinched the bridge of his nose, then shook his head and tossed his cards down. “Fold.”
“Wait, does that mean I win? You have to take off a secret?”
“That’s how this works.”
I reach for the chocolate chips and pop a couple in my mouth. “I didn’t cheat, you know.”