Chapter 3
Chapter Three
I am officially the card-dealing samurai. I’ve gotten so good these last two weeks that I can multitask while I work and scope out the action. And it’s like watching Casino Real World.
Right now, the sweet brunette swing-shift waitress is flirting with the tall, dark-haired cashier behind the cage, while two other waitresses—who I’m pretty sure have a thing for each other—chat by a row of slots.
Over in Gen’s lounge, two youngish executives with loosened ties troll for women. Their game is that they are there for an end-of-the-day drink, but I can tell they’re looking for a hookup.
One of them has been tracking Gen’s every move, and it’s making me nervous. I don’t get a good vibe from him.
I deal my next hand and glance into the East Bar, where Gen’s safely ensconced, chatting up Mason.
My heart warms at the sight. I’m like a proud mama duck watching her duckling venture into the world.
Gen and Mason have been casually flirting for a couple of weeks. Well, okay, I can’t tell if the banter is friendly or flirty, but at this point I don’t care. Gen’s laughing and smiling more, and that’s all that matters. This is the happiest I’ve seen her in months.
Jaeger swaggers up to Mason’s bar, and my heart pumps an extra beat.
Am I going to have this reaction every time he’s around?
He’s in a black T-shirt and dark jeans, and my mouth goes dry just looking at him—
“Hit.”
Crap, I missed a customer signal. Too much casino-watching.
The woman glares and I quickly deal a card, shoving my head back in the game. But when I can no longer stand the suspense, I glance at Mason’s bar.
Jaeger is smiling at Gen, his forearm on the counter, body angled toward her. I can’t look away. Corded muscles in his arm flex under his weight, his hand casually curled.
Damn those hot hands. Visions of them grasping my flesh and skimming over my body hijack my mind.
Eric hasn’t called, and Jaeger’s effect on me is inconvenient. I was hoping Eric would visit and remind me why we’re together, because I’m not feeling the love.
I shift my feet, gaze shooting now and then to the trio at the bar. Gen laughs at something Jaeger says and jealousy spears my chest.
This is ridiculous. I want Gen to have male attention. Why does this particular guy’s attention have me so upset?
He was my brother’s friend, and for all I know, he’s still in touch with Tyler. I should call Tyler and get the scoop.
Two of my customers rise, gathering their chips. They’ve lost the last three rounds.
I can predict with ninety-nine percent accuracy when a customer will leave. Three rounds of losses have a fifty percent probability, while five or six rounds guarantee they’ll be moving along. Tonight I’m hot. No one stays at my table for more than a few hands.
My last two customers—middle-aged mother types—have managed to break even for a half-hour. The longest stretch so far.
Dealer shows a ten. Not looking good, ladies.
The woman with frosted blond bangs scrunches her nose. She whispers to her pal, her fake pink nails shining in the overhead lights as she cups her mouth. With a nod from her friend, she swipes the table, indicating a hit.
I deal her an eight of hearts and her lips press together in a subdued smile, but her eyes dart warily to my ten.
Her friend hits as well, then holds.
I flip my hidden card. Ace.
House takes all.
Again.
I’m even winning when it comes to getting Gen hooked up, so what the hell is wrong with me? What is it about Jaeger that has me on edge?
My tight ponytail is giving me a headache. Holding my hands over the table, I clap them together, and show my palms to the ceiling—and the creepy people watching from the surveillance system—before tugging the strands loose near my temple.
The pressure on my scalp eases, but the sledgehammer inside my head persists. Flashing my hands again, I show I haven’t pulled any cards from behind my ears and deal another hand.
A new customer sits at my table while I’m looking down, and the fine hairs on the back of my neck tingle.
Jaeger is seated in front of me, his shoulders practically taking up two seat widths.
My heart ricochets inside my chest like a pinball. I can’t control the smile that tugs at the corners of my mouth.
Stop smiling! I compress my lips in a straight line.
Jaeger doesn’t say anything at first, but when it’s his turn to hit, he swipes his hand and says, “What are you doing after work tonight?”
The first thing that comes to mind is that he’s hitting on me. Well, he’s hitting—for me to deal him a card—just not hitting on me. I need to stop thinking about him like a guy I might be interested in. I’m not interested in any guys. I have Eric.
I pass him his card. “Not much. Why, what’s up?”
Peering at the cards on the table, he says, “You and Gen feel like joining me and Mason for a Tahoe sunrise tradition?”
Sounds promising.
Jaeger, or it could be Mason, probably wants to see Gen tonight, and Jaeger’s checking in with me because she and I are a package deal.
I’m thinking champagne on the beach… He has skills, if this is how he’s going to play it.
“I’m game. What did Gen say?” I flip my hidden card and add a six to my seven. I deal myself another card.
A king? Dealer busts.
And just like that, my winning streak breaks.
The frosted sisters lost as well, and have already abandoned the table. Jaeger’s eighteen is the winning hand.
“She says she’ll go if you do.” He scrapes up his winnings.
See, I tell myself, he’s just checking in with me. He asked Gen out first.
But I search his expression anyway, only he’s not looking at me.
All I see are the tips of his lashes, a full bottom lip, and a square jaw line framed by broad shoulders.
I can’t tell if he’s making sure I’m going so Gen feels comfortable, or if he wants me there.
Which is stupid. It doesn’t matter whether he wants me there or not. Gen’s the available one.
Why the hell am I thinking about this at all? “We get off at three. What time do you want to meet?”
Jaeger shoves his chips into his pocket—and I’m staring at the corded muscles along his forearms again.
Dammit! Can’t the guy wear something other than flesh-baring T-shirts? What is this, a strip club?
“I’ll pick you up at the front entrance at three thirty.”
I force my gaze up.
“Wear something comfortable.” His eyes dip, only for a moment—a glance that takes in my polyester uniform as if it were revealing.
My uniform is the same one every dealer wears—unisexed—and it’s not attractive. But that glance was proprietary. And hot. Shit.
Jaeger merges with the crowd, and my pit boss hands me a new stack of cards. I force myself to focus on my kickass riffle shuffle, and not the beautiful man striding away from my table.