Chapter 15
Sean
‘It’s worse than I thought. These idiots genuinely think they’re going to wipe the floor with you.’
‘Ah, well, we’ll see, won’t we? They might win a few hands.’ Cherry leaned on the cooperage door and, with barely any attempt to shield her actions, roved her gaze up and down Sean. ‘I might be the one distracted.’
‘You might be?’ She had insisted that the poker game with his workmates happen at the cooperage straight after work.
Something about testosterone firing up her game.
But Sean wasn’t half as concerned about her being fired up as he was about his colleagues.
A lot of the lads were like dogs in heat, and although he knew her head wouldn’t be turned by them, he didn’t want Cherry feeling uncomfortable.
He didn’t want anyone salivating over his wife.
Because she was still his wife.
A wife in tight-fitting Wranglers, Converse and an equally tight black t-shirt.
‘Their distraction is our win,’ she stated emphatically as if her win would be his too. She could be right. Sean was keen to witness his workmates “poker king” egos brought down a peg or two.
Thankfully, the cask warehouse – a lowly lit store stacked with whisky barrels and smoky corners – where they would hold their game was cool and still, which should keep the testosterone at a decent temperature.
‘Mmm, I love the smell in here.’ As they entered, Cherry breathed in the temperate air long and deep. It was far too arousing.
‘You like the smell of manky wood and sweaty blokes.’
‘I’d call it oaky and manly. Where are these “idiots” we’re playing?’
‘They’ll be here. They went to get something to eat.’
Moments later, the deep sound of male laughter and the salty and sharp vinegary smell of chips permeated the cask warehouse, and Sean saw his colleagues through Cherry’s eyes.
There was Billy MacDonald, a young apprentice with floppy black hair and a bravado that made Sean cringe, because he recognised it from his own younger years.
Tommy Donaldson was of a similar age to Billy, shy but cocky in familiar company.
Sean would have to watch him. Albie Donaldson was Tommy’s brother and worked as a painter and decorator in the local area.
And there were a couple of lads – Kyle and Rhys – around Sean’s age, who hopefully knew how to behave themselves.
‘Did anyone bring the cards?’ Sean asked as everyone settled themselves on stools around the table.
‘What? We thought you’d be bringing them.’ Billy’s eyes rounded.
‘Why would you assume that, Bill?’
‘Uh, ’cause your missus is a pro.’
‘A pro.’
‘Aye, like a professional, I mean. No’ a prostitute.’
Sean had to fight to keep a straight face.
‘Aye, alright, Billy. Thanks for clearing that up.’
Kissing. Poker. Sex. Sean knew what Cherry was like at one of those and suspected she’d be as skilled at the others. Tonight, she’d leave them all in the dust, like the day she’d walked in here with a sandwich.
And he wasn’t wrong. But it happened so subtly that it was easy not to notice it happening at all.
As Sean dealt the cards, Cherry disarmed them by warming into chatter about coopering, holidays, whisky.
And once the hands were being played, she gave out tips, such as telling Billy to cool the hard betting on every single hand. ‘It’s not bingo,’ she told him.
Amidst the chat and tips, she won hand after hand. At one point, she trapped Tommy by comparing his tone of voice when talking about his summer holiday to that when talking about his hand and worked out he was bluffing. It was a clever move.
Sean tried to work out her style but concluded that it was impossible to follow. She was like a cat – friendly and rubbing against you one minute, detached and staring you down the next. You thought you were her friend, then realised she was playing you.
Cherry never offered Sean any playing advice in front of the others, possibly not wanting to emasculate him. He’d take her advice anytime, anywhere. This was her domain, and her commanding the hell out of it was hot as fuck.
That didn’t mean he would submit to her when he had a strong hand.
That time came when Sean faced Cherry heads up with king-jack, suited. Twenty-four percent win rate, he remembered. And the flop came ten, nine, two, so he just needed a queen for a straight.
Cherry checked, suggesting she could have a straight as well. Or possibly something bigger.
But he decided she didn’t and checked back.
The turn brought a queen and his desired straight. Sean stayed calm. Confident but not cocky. Not giving away his cards.
Cherry tested him with a small bet. It was a no-brainer to call it.
When the river brought the four of hearts, she bet even bigger. Still, he raised significantly.
In silence, Cherry studied him. Then slid all her chips in.
Sean met that raise then flipped over his king-jack. When she smiled, he thought he’d lost, but she turned over a pair of queens showing that she had three of a kind. Not enough to beat his hand. Her smile was for him – for beating her.
Calmly, Sean raked in the pot.
Cherry leaned back, admiration breaking through. ‘Well played, Butler.’
‘Thanks.’ It was poker, not real life, but maybe she’d see that he listened, he learned and there was more to him than she originally thought.
‘We could play strip poker,’ Billy suggested as the night was drawing to a natural close.
Sean leaned back in his seat. ‘Oh, could we now, Billy, aye?’
‘Aye, how no? Cherry, you’d be up for it, right?’
‘Ha!’ Sean answered before Cherry had a chance to. ‘Remind me how many hands you’ve won tonight, Billy.’
Billy shrugged. ‘A few.’
‘Right. Maybe sit and think about that for a minute. Instead of playing strip poker here, why don’t you go home, sit in a chair in your bedroom and take all your clothes off?
Because that is the same result you would get playing here with my wife.
And, in case you’ve forgotten, Billy, Cherry is my wife.
Do you understand? She’s also a professional poker player, so the chances of your wee dream coming to fruition are slim to fucking none.
I’d have thought you’d have realised that by now. ’
‘Aw, awright, I get the message.’ Billy squirmed in his seat. ‘Just wisnae sure if it was a real marriage or one o’ thae random Vegas ones where folk are aff their chops and get married by mistake.’
Sean’s jaw flexed. ‘It’s a real marriage, Bill.
’ He could say this knowing it was the absolute truth.
Their marriage had never been about anything other than pure obsession with one another.
‘And we got married in New York, not Vegas, stone-cold sober and very much on purpose.’ Sean glanced at Cherry, who winked at him and softened him back into his usual good humour.
‘Billy, let me give you some advice, man to man and all that.’ Sean leaned forward in his seat. ‘If you want to play strip poker with someone, my suggestion is to go to the pub and find some lassies who are single.’
‘Aye, alright.’
‘But make sure you’ve space for their guide dogs around the table.’
Everyone laughed except Billy.
‘Alright, alright, keep yer wig on.’ Billy put his palms up. ‘It was only a suggestion.’
‘The idea is very sweet, Billy,’ Cherry said, drily, ‘but there is only one man I will play strip poker with and he’s sitting right next to me.’ Then, in case there should be any confusion to whom she was referring to, Cherry scored her fingernails down the back of Sean’s neck.
Fuck, that felt incredible. Was she doing it to prove a point to Billy or for him? Either way, she’d need to stop, or he’d be in trouble. He couldn’t get a hard-on in front of his workmates. That would be a real comedown from the power dynamic he’d established with Billy.
‘Let’s play a few more hands, then call it a night,’ Cherry added. ‘I might even let you win, Billy.’
The hypnotised look on Billy’s face mirrored how Sean felt every time he talked to his wife. She had a way of making you feel you were winning by simply noticing that you existed.