Chapter Eight #2
That got Finley moving. Inspiration struck when he spotted a pair of sunglasses on top of his dresser.
Several of the poker professionals wore accessories at the table.
Some probably wanted to look cool, but others wanted to hide their tells.
He snagged his shades and debated footwear.
He decided against his boots and padded down the stairs in his socks instead, which meant the rest of the crew didn’t hear his approach.
“This is some spread,” Dylan said. “Is it someone’s birthday?”
Finley pulled up short outside the dining room, where everyone had gathered to eat before the games started.
“Finley picked the menu,” Ivan said. “He put together a welcome for the new guy.” His voice was as soft as ever and devoid of emotion to anyone but Finley, who felt the unspoken insinuation in his marrow.
A soft thump reached his ear, followed by Rue’s exuberant, “Welcome, Kier.” He must’ve slapped Kieran on the back.
Finley had halfway convinced himself that Kieran wouldn’t show, but there he was.
Kier, huh? The aloof man didn’t strike him as someone who used nicknames.
Had Rue made that up, or was it a name Kieran had shared with him?
Finley hadn’t asked how his trip to town went, but it appeared the two men had gotten along well.
“Thanks, man,” Kieran replied softly.
“Wow,” Tyler said. “Finley’s coming to poker night? That never happens.”
“As surprising as that is, I’m more shocked that he hasn’t found his next ex-boyfriend yet,” Owen teased.
“Who had Finley still single after six months?” Tyler asked.
Ugh. He’d forgotten all about the crew’s stupid bet.
Finley knew the guys meant nothing with their comments, and it wasn’t anything they hadn’t said to his face multiple times.
He wasn’t hurt or angry, but he wasn’t sure how to enter without them knowing he’d listened outside the dining room like a creeper.
“Y’all can be assholes,” Rueben told them. “Pretty sure I would shut up and eat the food if I were you. My abuela used to say, ‘Rue, if you look a gift horse in the mouth, it might just haul off and bite you.’”
“She’s talking about Nellie,” Owen teased.
“Nah,” Tyler replied. “That she-devil doesn’t need a reason to bite.”
Bless Rue and his abuela-isms. Finley pulled his hood up and slid his sunglasses on before pushing off the wall. He entered the room right as Owen asked why salad had been added to the menu.
“Colon cleanse,” Finley replied, “because some of you are full of shit.” Owen’s cheeks turned pink, and he looked embarrassed. Finley offered a playful wink to let him know there were no hard feelings but remembered he wore the dark shades. He probably deserved to squirm a little anyway.
“Nah,” Tyler replied. “The meat lover’s pizza is dripping in fat, and it will grease the gears.”
Ivan chuckled and shook his head. “Pretty sure Finley meant you two idiots will shovel shit until the end of time for talking smack about him.”
Finley hooked an arm around Owen’s neck in a one-armed hug. “They know better. I don’t have a vindictive bone in my body.”
“Damn good thing,” Tyler said as he loaded his paper plate with everything but salad. “You could really make things difficult for the last boyfriend if you outed him.” Tyler looked up and smiled. “But you’d never do anything so cruel.”
“No, I wouldn’t.”
“I saw him today in town,” Rueben said. “He was protesting near the casino with a group of Salvation Anew members.”
Finley felt Kieran’s intense focus and turned to face him.
Yes, that’s right. I chased my last lover straight into the arms of religious fanatics.
Kieran’s expression was curious and pensive, but Finley didn’t expect him to voice his thoughts, especially about anything as personal as Finley’s relationships.
“What the hell are you wearing?” Kieran asked, his lips quirking at the corner.
Finley was grateful for the subject change and played dumb. He looked down at his body, though it was more difficult to do with his dark sunglasses on. “A ratty old hoodie and a pair of jeans.”
Kieran snorted. “I can see that. I’m talking about your hood up and the dark aviators, Eight Mile.”
Owen leaned closer to Ivan and said, “I was thinking more Unabomber.”
The Eminem reference made Finley want to smile, but he crossed his arms over his chest instead. “This might come as a surprise to you since you’re new, but I wear my heart on my sleeve, which means I’ll tip my hand with my expressions.”
Kieran arched a brow so high it nearly disappeared. “But you said you were pretty good at playing poker.”
This felt like a continuation of their flirty conversation in the laundry room.
Finley wasn’t sure what surprised him most—that they’d picked up where they’d left off or that they were doing it in front of everyone else.
God, that sounded dirty. “No, I told you I was damn good. And that’s because I take extra measures. ”
Kieran narrowed his eyes as if he could smell the bullshit Finley was peddling across the room. After a moment, he shrugged and said, “Guess we’ll see.”
“Guess we will.”
“What’s happening?” Tyler whispered to Owen.
“If he has to tell you, then you don’t need to know,” Ivan informed him.
A round of snickers met the foreman’s reply, and Kieran tore his gaze away to glance around the room.
Finley couldn’t tell by his expression if he’d picked up on the subtext of the exchange.
The last thing he wanted was for Kieran to feel uncomfortable around him.
Finley felt like he should say something to divert attention when Dylan took care of that with a perfectly timed remark about the food offerings.
“Mmmm. Is that chicken bacon ranch pizza? And what’s the kind with white circles and leaves on it? Looks like abstract art or something.”
Finley shook his head and walked over to the guy who had a mad crush on his sister.
“It’s called Margherita pizza. The white circles are melted slices of mozzarella cheese, which is usually higher quality than the shredded stuff.
The green leaves are fresh basil. It just so happens to be Harry’s favorite pizza,” he said.
Dylan looked at him with a hopeful puppy expression. “Will she be here tonight?”
“She has a date,” Tyler replied. “Don’t worry about it, Dylan. She’s as unlucky in love as her brother.”
Dylan’s cheeks flushed with heat, and Finley felt sorry for the guy. “Why would you say that? It’s nothing to me.” Yet he added two pieces of Margherita pizza to his plate and a heaping serving of salad.
Finley pushed his sunglasses down his nose and pinned Tyler with a dark look.
“Harry is having a girls’ night with some friends in town.
She’s not on a date.” He didn’t want to give Dylan false hope, but he’d seen the furtive glances Harry sent Dylan’s way when he wasn’t looking.
“I don’t see anyone beating a path to your door, Ty.
Maybe we cut the chitchat about our dating lives and eat so we can get down to business. ”
“Sounds good to me,” Rueben said.
It didn’t take them long to get their fill of food, though Ivan stopped Finley before he could stow the leftovers in the refrigerator. He leaned closer and said, “I’ll give you a hint. Tyler is an emotional eater. When the cards aren’t looking good, he’ll grab a slice of pizza and munch on it.”
“Thanks,” Finley said. “Any other tips you care to share?”
“A card shark like you shouldn’t need them.” Ivan chuckled as he walked away because he knew Finley was full of shit. The foreman resumed his seat and picked up his cards. “Five-card stud. Jacks or better to open. Progressive.”
“Anything wild?” Kieran asked.
“Deuces,” Ivan replied.
The foreman’s laughter at Finley’s expense didn’t last, and he tipped an imaginary hat to Finley after he won the first three hands.
It was mostly the luck of the draw, but it didn’t take him long to discover the other players’ tells.
Tyler ate when he had a shitty hand but didn’t want to fold.
Owen stroked a finger over his brow when he had good cards but still needed one or two to make them great.
Ivan shifted in his chair when he got the card he wanted.
Dylan didn’t bother to hide his reactions.
He snickered when something good happened and groaned when his luck took a downward turn.
Rue drummed his fingers on the table when he was bluffing.
Kieran was the only opponent who didn’t give his thoughts away, and he didn’t need to hide behind a disguise.
Each of the first three hands came down to the two of them, and he knew it was only a matter of time before Kieran started winning some chips back.
Turned out he was right because Kieran won the next three.
“Too rich for my blood,” Owen said, tossing his few remaining chips onto Tyler’s pile. He saluted Finley with a piece of cold pizza. “Want to join us again next week?”
Finley smiled. “I’m going to the art festival in Last Chance Creek on Saturday.” Since he was studying Kieran closely, he noticed a slight tick near his mouth. Was that in response to his answer? Did Kieran like art? Did he wonder who Finley was going with?
“That lasts all weekend, right?” Tyler asked. “Can’t you go on Friday and do poker on Saturday?”
“Are you that eager for me to wipe the floor with you again?” Finley asked.
Owen swallowed another bite and said, “We’re in it for the food.”