Chapter Ten #5
Eamon's shoulders shrugged as he tapped the bar with two fingers.
"Harry is like that skinny dog that hangs around the dumpster.
The people here aren't exactly philanthropic, but they felt bad enough to throw him scraps.
Besides," he said, passing Savvy a drink with a wink even though she'd told him she didn't drink much.
"No one will judge you if you get silly.
Though," he went on, passing me a drink with a smirk, "you better keep an eye on her if that happens.
Faye might just sneak off with her. Anyway, Harry was actually a pretty decent player.
Everyone else is better, but he was good enough not to lose his shirt considering how high the pots can get here at times.
Going to the Mallicks was an interesting move. "
"They get the job done without hurting innocents in the process," I told him, not caring how pointed I was being.
I expected an apology.
That was the correct response to the situation.
But it was also a show of weakness.
And, I was getting the feeling, Eamon Awan was the kind of man who showed absolutely no weaknesses.
"Business is business. But there can be some regrets. Enjoy your evening," he offered, toasting Savea with his glass before moving away, disappearing completely in seconds.
"No way is Peyton going to believe me about him," Savvy said, shaking her head, moving to stand in front of me to keep eye-contact.
"He's definitely interesting."
"I'm sorry I wowed," she told me, rolling her eyes at herself.
"There's gonna be men you're gonna wow at, Savvs. I know it doesn't mean anything."
"I was just surprised," she insisted, moving closer, hand toying with my belt.
"You got possessive around Faye."
"She was eye-banging you," she insisted, eyes getting a little small.
"She was eye-banging you too."
"In a platonic way," she told me. "I'd make a terrible escort," she added, cringing.
My hand slid down her spine, settling at her lower back, pulling her close. "Dunno, sweetheart, I've been pretty impressed in that department."
"Shh," she hissed, looking around self-consciously.
"Hey," Aero's voice called, making her jerk away, looking over toward the table. "We're going to play some poker. You guys want to be dealt in?"
"One hand?" Savvy asked, clearly caught up in the atmosphere. And, well, who could blame her. If you were going to play your first official hand at poker, where better than at a table with businessmen and women, a local madam, and who the hell knew who else.
"Can we play as one?" I asked, leading Savvy closer. "She's never played before."
"Oh, she can be taught things too?" Faye tsked. "Men just love teaching women stuff," she announced to the table, making the redheaded woman nod.
"Helpless with heads full of air," the redhead agreed, collecting her cards.
"One of my girls has officially been taught how to play pool thirty-seven times as of last night. It was a new record."
"What'd she win?" Aero asked, rearranging his cards as I pulled Savvy down on my lap, helping her arrange her hand.
"Those Saint Laurent Opyum pumps," she informed the table to a bunch of nods, leaving us the odd-men-out.
Savea's shoes came off the shelf at a department store.
And not the fancy kind. She wouldn't know a Saint Laurent from a Payless heel.
And it was yet another thing I liked about her, her lack of fuss, her appreciation for less superficial things.
She told me as she flipped through dresses that she generally chose her clothes based off what fabric was less likely to show animal hair.
"Raise," I whispered in her ear when it was her turn, watching as she smiled, grabbing the chips, pushing them toward the center of the table.
"I have no idea what I am doing, but this is fun," she told them, getting warm smiles from everyone, yes, even the cool Faye.
Maybe she actually did win the first hand.
It was possible no one had anything better than a three pair.
But, I suspected, they let her win.
Like they had likely let Harry win on occasion.
To lift them up.
To make their day.
The money meant nothing to them.
But no matter how hard and jaded you might be in your life, you had to warm up at Savvy squealing, slack-jawed as she reached across the table to drag all the chips toward her, shoulders dancing a bit as she put them in stacks.
"Hey, Kingston?" she asked, leaning back against me, head turning into my neck.
"Yeah?"
"I was thinking..."
"About?" I asked, shaking my head when the dealer waved in front of us, asking if we wanted in.
"Fixing up the farmhouse," she told me, voice low, a little slower than usual, thanks to the triple shot of tequila just barely splashed with something sweet Eamon had given her.
"We can work on that," I agreed.
"I mean... maybe... when it's done... Padfoot and Petunia would really like the yard, I think."
"Are you asking me to move in with you?" I asked, arm around her belly giving her a squeeze.
"I mean... if you think it's too..."
"It's not," I cut her off.
"Okay," she said, and I could hear the smile. "Then, yes, I'm asking you to move in."
It was official.
Helen was going to get to continue her winning streak.