Lucky in Love

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Lucky in Love Page 11

by Kristen Ethridge


  “For whom?”

  He pointed his thumb at the couple on the other side of the small room. “Well, them. But I think it’ll work out for us too.”

  She turned away from the pictures and looked at him.

  “I mean, I think we’ll be okay because they’ll be okay.” First, he was calling her “babe” and now he was calling them an “us”?

  Rookie mistakes, all of them.

  He wasn’t even half a day removed from his days as a professional gambler and he was tripping all over himself like he hadn’t done in a decade.

  Not smooth at all, McBride.

  Besides, it wasn’t like he was looking for someone.

  She smiled up at him, clearly picking up on his mistake. The peaches-and-cream vibe she gave off, from the array of dark gold in her curls, to her ivory complexion, to her honey eyes, to those soft lips and the slightly askew crocheted sweater that revealed the tank top that contained all her curves—it was distracting him in a way that none of his professional training had prepared him for.

  So, maybe he wasn’t exactly looking for someone.

  But maybe he’d found something he hadn’t been looking for.

  He wasn’t a professional anymore. But he knew some of those lessons would stay with him for the rest of his life. They’d become a part of his personality, they made up who he was. And the number one lesson of playing poker is finding a way to win with the hand you were dealt.

  Ryan’s thoughts continued to spin as they boarded the paddle wheeler. Sunset was on the way and he could feel the change in the air. Tonight, it seemed to signal more than just a natural course of the day. It felt like a sign.

  When he’d sat at the table, he’d always tried to read the signs around him. He’d been dealt a crazy hand of grandfather-planned-surprise-wedding-to-his-teenage-girlfriend. But he wondered if he could turn it into a winner for everyone involved.

  “Tell me something,” Lisa said as she stopped at the rail near the front of the boat. Her hands rested on the red-painted wood that bordered the white gingerbread beneath. “How’d you get the nickname Lucky Charm? Even the manager in the boutique called you that instead of Ryan.”

  “Most people do. It comes from my last name, McBride. It’s Irish, obviously, so when I started winning tournaments out of nowhere, some commentators said I must have the luck of the Irish. It evolved into Lucky Charm, and then it kind of stuck.”

  “I don’t think I’ve ever really had a nickname.” She watched the waves lap around the edge of the boat as the paddle wheel began to push them out across the lake.

  The night breeze picked her curls up and tossed them around her face and shoulders, like confetti in a parade.

  “Do you want me to give you one?” Ryan leaned one arm on the rail next to her and turned to face her. The last red rays of the sun gleamed behind her profile, lining her features with a burnished glow.

  Ryan knew he’d seen a lot of things over the years. Some good, some bad. Some incredible. But this was a moment he knew he wanted to hold onto for a lifetime. A gentle breeze, a striking sunset, and a quietly beautiful woman who’d captured the corners of an imagination he’d long thought was in hibernation—or worse.

  A wry smile feathered her lips. “I think I’m too old for that now. I’m just Lisa.”

  “No, you’re not.”

  She turned toward him, shifting the setting sun’s light to frame her hair. “Come on. I’m just a theatre geek. We don’t have teams or secret handshakes or anything like that.”

  “Well, we’re kind of on the same team now.” Ryan pointed back toward the dining area, where he knew Pops and Gina Mae had gone to sit down.

  “But no secret handshake.”

  Instinct took over, sending a little pang of fear through Ryan. He never acted on instinct. He acted on the odds which were most likely to result in victory.

  But with victory came surrender of the other side, and he’d never wanted anything more than the surrender of Lisa in his arms. And the odds said the most likely way to get there was to let his instinct run wild.

  “No secret handshake. Just this.”

  His instinct ran straight to Lisa’s mouth and the overwhelming need he had to taste her and touch that edge of light and shadow on her skin.

  Ryan leaned down as swiftly as the breeze that swirled around them. As he got the contact he craved, the slight intake of breath Lisa made caused him to pause.

  The adrenaline screeched to a halt in his veins, like a dam struggling to hold back a freak unexpected rainstorm.

  Lisa lifted her arms and laid them over his shoulders, and the flood of his heightened awareness of her and only her crested the top of the dam and broke free. He kissed her hard, and as she slid tentative fingertips through the edge of his hair on his neck, he pulled forward and kissed her deeply.

  It felt like the Fourth of July instead of the day before St. Patrick’s Day. Lisa pulled a little closer to Ryan and sparks of fireworks lit in every space and hollow where their bodies touched and the thick yarn of her light sweater pressed tightly between them.

  He wasn’t calculating odds, counting cards, or looking for signs. Ryan’s eyes were closed and his mind was processing only the feel of her in his arms and the hasty sound of her breathing just below his ear.

  The ringing of a loud brass bell nearby crashed through the moment with the sharp finality of watching an opponent rake your pile of chips into his own. There was nothing you could do except know the moment was gone.

  But Ryan knew this moment would be with him in his mind for a long time to come.

  Lisa stood rooted to the deck, not following the crowd inside for dinner.

  “You’re not playing me, right, Ryan?” She looked at him, then back out toward the water, where what was left of the sun was now nothing more than a dusky haze atop the surface.

  Her words stung, like a razor blade that just barely misses the prescribed angle while shaving.

  “That wasn’t a game, Lisa.”

  “So do you know what we’re doing here?” Her eyes seemed to plead with him for an answer.

  “I think I’m spending the evening with a beautiful woman because I enjoyed her company a great deal last night.” He couldn’t decide if it was a good idea to reveal that or not. As the words came out of his mouth, he felt a little exposed, and he wasn’t used to that.

  But he could see that the full truth mattered to Lisa. And if the full truth was too much, she’d be on a plane in a few days, anyway.

  Unless...

  The thought parked in Ryan’s head before he could fully form it.

  He looked at Lisa, now dusted with the shadows of the oncoming evening instead of the copper sunset that had just highlighted her only a few minutes ago. The sun seemed to have set quickly tonight. Even more quickly, it seemed that their relationship had changed.

  Ryan hoped it was changing for the better.

  He forced himself to complete the half-thought in his mind. He hoped it was changing for the better because he didn’t want Lisa to get on a plane in a few days. He wanted her to stay here, to get to know her better, and to see if his hunch that there was something between them that went beyond the situation they’d been thrust into by their love-struck grandparents.

  “Ryan, you don’t have to say that just because we’re forced together in a slightly crazy situation.”

  “I’m not. Do you not believe I’d want to spend time with you?”

  Her brow furrowed as she tried to place her words. “I think you’re the Lucky Charm of Las Vegas. Everyone knows you and everyone seems to want a piece of you. I don’t quite understand what a teacher from Texas would bring to the table to compete with your everyday world.”

  “Maybe I’m tired of my everyday world. Maybe I want something different.” Ryan paused for a second and stared out at the same small dips and swells of the water that Lisa was focused on. “Maybe there’s no maybe about it.”

  “I know you said that you were tire
d of being on the poker tour and you wanted to do something with more meaning. But Ryan, don’t you think making too many changes at once is a little dangerous?”

  “I’ve spent the last ten years on the edge. Every time I sat down at a table, Lisa, I could lose everything at the turn of a card. What’s dangerous for most people is everyday life for me.”

  He wished she’d look at him, but she kept her eyes steady on the lake. “Can you promise me this isn’t some elaborate bluff?”

  “My bluffing days are over, sweetheart,” he said solemnly.

  Lisa turned and faced him. “I want to believe you.”

  “Lisa, your stories last night helped me see that I’d made the right decision. There’s more for me out there, and you helped me know that when I questioned the announcement I’d made. Your concern for your grandmother made me really stop and think through this situation with Pops and it led me to the conclusion that I have to support him in the decisions he makes for his life, not expect him to conform to what’s convenient for mine. You gave me a clarity I couldn’t find on my own for not one, but two, major decisions I needed to make in my life.”

  Ryan reached out his hand and gently cupped it around Lisa’s forearm. At his touch, she pulled her gaze up and turned her head toward him.

  He decided to lay it all out there. If she turned him down, at least he’d know and he could get used to the idea that she’d be leaving soon on a plane. At least he’d know and he could pick up the uncertainty of his new-found retirement and go from there.

  “It’s a beautiful night and I’m here on this boat with a beautiful woman. I can’t let Pops have all the fun. I’d like to take the other Fleming on a date right now. Would you please be my date tonight?”

  Lisa swallowed and Ryan watched the set of her jaw and the contraction of her slender throat. He felt a chunk of ice slide to the pit of his stomach. Clearly, she wasn’t interested.

  He couldn’t blame her for still wanting to focus solely on what was right for her Nana.

  “I suppose I can trust you. Those two chaperones wouldn’t let you try anything out of line.”

  Ryan shook his head and the ice melted with the warm relief that kicked in his veins.

  “No. I only bring the finest chaperones out to impress the ladies. I require an average vintage of ninety years.”

  Lisa smiled, and Ryan knew he could look at her face like this all night.

  Nana and Bill had been feted with a table for two near the dance floor. The cozy round table had been set with special china and crystal. The candlelight reflected off the facets of the crystal and glowed on the glaze of the china, making the setup look fit for a fairy tale.

  The crew had reserved a table near the window for Lisa and Ryan. Lisa had hoped to sit with Nana and Bill, but to see the looks on their faces as people stopped by their table and congratulated them warmed her heart over and over and over again.

  “They look so happy, don’t they?” Lisa spoke out loud, but the words were almost as much for her as for Ryan.

  “You could be too, you know.” Ryan poured a glass of wine from the bottle the server sat at the edge of the table. The red liquid swirled around in the glass and rippled gently with the rocking of the paddle wheeler as it chugged on its journey across Lake Mead.

  Lisa tried to keep the sigh inside.

  “I heard that.” Ryan took a thoughtful sip of his wine. “Why do you disagree?”

  “I don’t know.”

  The waiter brought a narrow silver tray lined with a blue napkin and tucked full of crusty sourdough rolls. Ryan took a roll, placed it on a small white plate, and handed it to Lisa.

  “I think you do. Look, Lisa, I don’t expect you to marry me tonight, but we’re in this together for the long haul. You are the primary caregiver for your great-grandmother. I’m the primary caregiver for my grandfather. They’re getting married.” He pulled apart his roll and swiped creamy butter on the exposed fluffy bread. “We’re in this for the long haul at one level or another, you know? You can be honest with me. I promise.”

  It was nothing more than a reflex, a long-conditioned reaction to keep from being hurt, but Lisa shook her head mildly.

  “You can’t?” Ryan’s tone of voice held a hint of surprise.

  Lisa thought about what her body language had just conveyed. “It’s been a long time, Ryan.”

  “Since what? A date?” He leaned slightly forward in his chair.

  “That too.”

  “And?” He wouldn’t give up. He was reading her as clearly as if she wore a neon Vegas sign.

  “Trusted.”

  “Trusted. So you don’t think you can trust me?”

  Lisa stabbed at squares of lettuce with her fork, trying to collect her thoughts under the guise of eating. “It’s not that.”

  “It’s something. Look, Lisa, you’re a good actress, but you’re not that good. Changes are coming for each of us in our families. But I can’t help you—and you can’t help me—if you’re not honest with me.”

  She swirled the cabernet in her glass and then took a long sip of liquid courage. “I just don’t trust too many people. I don’t have a reason to.”

  “Nana’s not a reason?” He was making this hard and it was making her mad. She didn’t want to have this conversation. She didn’t want to open up to Ryan McBride. She wanted to look at his eyes, pretend as if for a few daysthat someone in her life didn’t have an ulterior motive, then get Nana back home to Dr. Reynolds.

  And then take care of herself.

  Alone.

  Without worrying anyone, especially Nana.

  Or herself, if she was extending this honesty thing all the way.

  “Nana’s the best reason. But I don’t even know you, Ryan.”

  He smiled, teeth sharkishly grinning in the midst of the dusting of beard across his chin and cheeks. “So what do you want to know? We’ve already discussed my nickname. And we never need to go there again. If I never get called Lucky Charm again, that’s a good thing.”

  Lisa took the opportunity to turn the spotlight off her. “Why? It’s kind of cool that people know you and they like you.”

  “Well, it’s cool if you’re a multicolored marshmallow or a leprechaun on a cereal box. Not if you’re a thirty-three-year-old man. Ladies aren’t generally impressed by leprechauns.”

  “The lady in the boutique said you used to date some European supermodel. So I guess someone was impressed.”

  “She was a poker player, not a supermodel. And it was all part of the game.”

  The waiter removed the salad plates and replaced them with a plate artfully styled with a small steak, several grilled shrimp, garlic mashed potatoes, and some roasted carrots shining with a light honey glaze. Lisa silently prayed that drool didn’t begin to snake down her chin.

  “The game? Isn’t it funny how everyone’s playing a game?” She took a bite of candied carrot, letting the sweet taste overpower some of the savory conversation.

  “Are you?” Ryan polished off the grilled shrimp in quick succession between the beats of conversation. “I’ve played all sorts of games for a long time. Games at the table, games of popularity. All that business. I’m looking forward to just being me for a while.”

  Lisa still didn’t know how to give Ryan the answer he was looking for.

  She didn’t even know how to give herself the answer.

  “Who is that?”

  Ryan didn’t waste any time taking a bite out of the filet mignon. “A guy who lived the dream and then woke up. Who are you, Lisa Marie?”

  “A girl who tried to live the dream, but it turned into a nightmare.”

  She clamped her mouth shut. She’d said too much and the fear of the honesty gave her a paralyzing case of conversational lockjaw.

  Ryan didn’t reply and Lisa decided to keep looking down and focus on what she could control.

  Carrots and mashed potatoes.

  It was a sad commentary, she realized. A good-looking man who ha
d been considerate to her wanted to get to know her better, and all she could do was stare down carbohydrates.

  “I don’t want to pretend anymore,” she said softly, chasing a carrot around her plate with the fork. “I don’t want to be an actress. I just want to be me.”

  “So I’ll ask again. Who is that, Lisa Marie Fleming?” Ryan’s voice was soft but insistent.

  Lisa looked up. She knew the expression on her face was blank, like the laundered white tablecloth covering their table. It embarrassed her to have nothing to give.

  She felt the flush in her cheeks and the sweat just under the skin of her fingertips.

  Ryan stood up from his chair and came over next to Lisa.

  She opened her mouth to speak. Ryan pressed a strong finger against her lips. She could taste the faint hint of butter and honey.

  “Sssh.” He kept the finger in place. He lowered it, trailing the edge over the curve of her lip and tapping her chin once. “Why don’t we just not talk?”

  Ryan held out his hand and kept a steady gaze on Lisa until he got what he wanted.

  The sticky feeling in the swirls and grooves of her fingertips came alive like microscopic lines of cinders the instant she put her hand in Ryan’s. The contours of his hand cradled hers and he tugged gently as she scooted her chair back and took a small step.

  A silver-haired woman in a blue lamé-trimmed pantsuit stood behind a small glittery DJ booth. She tapped the microphone for attention twice. “We’re going to get the dance portion of our dinner cruise started with the traditional Anne Murray. This one is for all the lovebirds on board.”

  “We can’t pass up the traditional Anne Murray. Just come with me, Lisa. You don’t have to say anything. I promise.”

  As the familiar sounds of the Canadian singer’s most famous hit began to fill all the corners of the paddle wheeler, Lisa let Ryan lead her to the parquet dance floor. Purple and blue spotlights flicked back and forth, casting a violet tint on Ryan’s arm as he wrapped it comfortably around her waist.

  “Could I at least have this dance for tonight, Lisa?” Ryan asked, echoing the theme of Anne Murray’s words.

  Lisa nodded and felt a shy smile on her lips. Ryan’s arms felt solid, strong. Just like they’d felt on the deck earlier when he’d pulled her in for that kiss.

 

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