by Ava Miles
“This was very thoughtful, Rhett,” she said, walking with him down the path.
“You might take my arm,” he said, extending it out like an old-world gentleman would. “The moon might be all bright and silver, but it’s hard to see any rocks or ruts on the path.”
She took his arm and liked the feel of it a little too much. It made all the uncertainty and self-torment of these last hours fade away. They strolled down the path. The barren fall branches looked like a million arms reaching to the sky in the moonlight, eagerly awaiting the sun’s return in the morning. And the moon’s fullness reminded her of a woman’s belly close to birth.
“When I’m out walking in places like this at night,” Rhett said, “I miss the singing of the cicadas back home. We didn’t have air conditioning when I was a sprout, so I’d keep my windows open, hoping for a breeze. Many a night I fell asleep to their chorus.”
She thought back to their earlier conversation, the one that had stirred her up so. The words wouldn’t leave her, and she sighed, not sure what to do.
“You’re thinking about our chat earlier,” he said, “wondering how my poker personality fits with a man who has fond memories of open summer windows and cicadas. One who likes taking moonlit walks.”
Pausing, he turned to her. The moonlight touched the angles of his face, making him seem larger and his hair more golden. He’d left his cowboy hat in the car, she realized. Until this moment, she hadn’t really looked at him.
“Abbie, maybe I’m all of those things,” he said. “I’m all of my experiences, just like you’re all of yours. We don’t have to put the different parts of ourselves into nice, neat boxes, each tied off with a bow. Perhaps we should just let them have some line to run, like a kite on a breezy Sunday.”
She’d never flown a kite a day in her life, but she understood what he meant. She and Mac talked about giving Dustin enough freedom so he wouldn’t feel boxed in, but not too much that he’d get out of control.
Out of control. Had she been? Surely, making up excuses to leave the family suite to see Rhett—like she had earlier—wasn’t responsible behavior. Neither was sneaking out to see her secret lover after everyone was asleep. How was she supposed to raise her son to be responsible if she wasn’t?
“I’m not a wildcat,” she found herself saying.
He made a sound under his breath. “I didn’t mean for that to put your back up so, and I want to take it back, but I just can’t.” Tipping her chin up to him, he smiled. “There is nothing wrong with being a passionate woman, Abbie. The passion inside you has finally emerged, and I feel privileged to be a part of that. I hope it’s something you’ll cherish about our time together. When you let all that passion out, you’re more beautiful than that moon up yonder, and she’s a mighty spectacular sight.
“Maybe what we’re both teaching each other is how to be somewhere in the middle,” Rhett mused, starting to walk again. “I’m a little calmer than I was before being with you, while you’re a little less starchy being with me. Not a bad tradeoff, to my mind.”
“Starchy?” She couldn’t help but laugh. “Oh, Rhett, was I that bad?”
“When was the last time you wore something that hasn’t been dry cleaned?” he asked her.
She frowned, thinking. “I hate admitting this, but it was your Eli Manning jersey.”
“Of course it was, sugar,” he mused. “When are you finally going to admit how well I know you?”
Suddenly he paused again and put his hands on her shoulders, drawing her closer. His head loomed in the moonlight, and she knew he was going to kiss her. Her hands curled around his back without thought.
“Fact is, honey,” he drawled, lowering his mouth slowly, “you know me just as well as I know you.”
His mouth bussed her lips softly, and she angled closer to deepen the kiss. The gentle brushes weren’t enough. She clutched his back, urging him on. He tugged on her bottom lip, and a sigh escaped from her mouth. Yes, she thought. Oh, yes.
The moonlight washed over them, casting its own kind of magic. She opened her mouth, and they took the dance to another level, his tongue swirling around hers.
When he pressed back, she rested her head against his chest. “Moments like these…I wish time could stop.”
“Me too,” he said, and there was a hitch in his voice. “Will you come back to my room and make love with me?”
“Yes,” she said, because she wanted to with all of her heart. Because she wanted to silence the voice in the back of her head reminding her they couldn’t stay in the moonlight forever.
Chapter 9
Whether it was the moonlight or the intense lovemaking with Abbie afterward, Rhett found himself jittery as he started the poker tournament the next morning. He nodded to the other players at the table, trying to tune out the crowd, but it didn’t much work.
Abbie was watching—or would be—and it rattled him something fierce.
Walking toward the table, he’d been acutely aware of his flamboyant outfit and the theater he and his girls were putting on. The fans loved it, but when some of the female fans raised their tiny sleeveless T-shirts so he could autograph their bellies like he’d done a million times before, he found himself as uncomfortable as a schoolmarm with hemorrhoids.
He pulled it together enough to advance as the victor from his first table, but he caught the narrowed gleam in Vixen’s eyes as he headed over to join her and Raven.
“Get your head in the game,” Vixen whispered, smiling fakely all the while. “That took way longer than it should have.”
“You’ve been off all morning, Rhett,” Raven added, her dark wig nearly bigger than her head. “Abbie isn’t here yet, so you can forget about her.”
They’d never mentioned Abbie to him, even though they were smart enough to read between the lines. He’d wondered if they would bust his chops about it.
“I’m pulling it together.” Then he shook his head. “Correction. I have pulled it together. The next table is going to be a piece of cake—and the next and the next until I’m at the winner’s table being declared the champion.”
He played steadily, busting out the other players at his table with controlled efficiency before moving on to the next. Keeping his eyes away from the crowd helped. He’d seen Abbie enter the room midway through his last game, so he no longer needed to scan the space for her.
When he took a break, he stayed away from everyone but Vixen and Raven. They told him where he’d slipped up, something he already knew, but they also told him his complete focus on the table was its own tell. Usually Rhett would wave at the fans after winning a hand, his devil-may-care charm ever apparent.
“I don’t feel like waving at anyone,” he spat out. “It’s not happening today.”
“Fine,” Raven said, rubbing him on the back, sticking with her role even though he was struggling with his own. “But you might wave at the crowd at an opportune time if the game gets tight. Use it to your advantage. It might throw off your opponent.”
Or it might alert his opponent to the fact that he wasn’t waving as much as usual, Rhett thought. The psychology of poker was more an art than a science. “I’ll be all right, girls. Don’t worry none. The seat at the final table is mine.”
Four hours later, he’d won his place outright. Mac was there too, along with three other regulars. At this level, poker was a small world. He nodded to the other players and took his seat.
The next few hours were draining, but he kept his focus on the game. His stack of chips was steadily growing, and two players had already busted out. There were only three of them left, but he knew they’d have a while to play yet. Mac didn’t often go for wild betting swings at the table—that was Rhett’s M.O.—but Tennessee Travis, the third player, could go either way. So when the man went all in on the next hand, Rhett held his breath. He had a pair of kings, but he wasn’t sure it was a good enough hand if Travis was confident enough to bet it all.
When Mac won the hand, Rhett br
eathed a sigh of relief. He was still in the game, but his stack of chips had been severely depleted. He nodded to Travis as the player excused himself from the table.
“Just you and me now, Maverick,” Rhett said.
“It’s not the first time,” Mac replied, his three-piece suit still crisp after a full day of poker.
“You never sweat, do you?” Rhett asked, knowing everyone in the room was listening to them, watching them. “My pits are as wet as a popsicle at a Fourth of July picnic.”
“Thank you for sharing,” Maverick said, rolling his eyes.
“Are the players ready?” the dealer asked.
They both nodded and set their wills against each other once again. Rhett’s stack took another hit in the next hand, and he knew Mac was going to knock him out if he didn’t pull an ace out quick. The opening he was looking for presented itself in his next hand, and he decided to make his stand.
“I’m all in,” he said when it was his time to bet.
Mac’s steady gaze met him across the table—his eyes were as green as Abbie’s, but Rhett wouldn’t allow that thought to shake him. His friend was pressing in on him, trying to make him give something away. He blandly stared back.
“All right, Rhett,” Mac said, “if that’s how you want to play it.”
The dealer turned the last card, and Rhett stared at the queen. He’d beat Mac with a full house.
“Whoa!” he said, putting his hand to his forehead. “I did it!”
“Winner and champion, ladies and gentlemen,” the announcer called. “Rhett Butler Blaylock.”
Rhett stood up from the table and pumped his fist in the air. “Yes’m. Whew!” He met Mac halfway around the table and shook his hand. “Almost had me there, Maverick.”
“You’re as sly as a fox when cornered,” Mac said, shaking his head. “Great game, Rhett.”
“You too,” he said as Vixen and Raven sauntered toward him. Raven was holding a bottle of that fancy French champagne she favored, and she opened it, competently, like she did everything, as they approached him.
He hugged the two women and lifted them clear off their toes, laughing like a loon. Every victory was sweet, and he celebrated each one like it could be the last. Grabbing the champagne from Raven’s hand, he chugged it. The bubbles exploded in his mouth, which made him laugh more. The girls were grinning at him, and then he was putting his thumb on top of the bottle and shaking it.
“Don’t you dare!” Raven exclaimed, trying to escape.
But he did. After spraying them with champagne, he dumped the rest of it over his head while their shrieks echoed in his ears.
“Y’all are so funny sometimes about being tidy,” he drawled.
“Rhett, Rhett, Rhett,” the fans were chanting, and he turned toward the sound, thrusting his hand into the air.
“Yes!” he cried, walking toward the crowd.
He paused when he saw Abbie standing at the front of the gathering with Mac. Dustin was hugging his uncle, and from where Rhett stood, it looked like Mac was comforting his nephew more than the other way around.
Abbie seemed to feel his eyes on her and looked over. He felt Vixen and Raven put their arms around his waist, one on either side of him, and he started to stride toward Abbie, eager to share his victory with her.
Her face flinched right before his eyes, and in that moment, he knew she was seeing the wild and crazy Rhett Butler Blaylock, not the lover she had allowed to touch her in the moonlight. It was obvious she didn’t like what she saw.
He walked in the other direction.
Chapter 10
Abbie stewed all night after Rhett nearly outed their relationship on live television and in front of Dustin and Mac.
She’d seen the joyous look on his face and her heart had hammered in her chest at the realization that he was making a beeline to celebrate—with her. Not with Mac or Dustin. Her.
His hair was soaked from the champagne she’d seen him spray over his poker babes before dumping it on his own head.
Dustin had laughed like a loon at the sight and said, “Whoa, I wish I could spray hot chicks with champagne.”
Her illusion had shattered.
Rhett had meant what he’d said last night. He was who he was, both on the poker circuit and with her. But she couldn’t keep seeing him. Her son idolized him, but he wasn’t a good role model. And the sight of Rhett walking over to her, his poker babes wrapped around him, she’d realized he wasn’t a man she wanted to stand next to in public.
In that unguarded moment of victory, he’d obviously forgotten he wasn’t supposed to look at her that way or seek her out exclusively. But he must have seen it on her face, the way her skin had tightened up in fear, because he’d walked away.
She’d almost sagged against Mac in relief. But her heart had burned with pain, something she hadn’t expected to feel so keenly. She’d been falling in love with the man Rhett was with her. But since he wasn’t that man all the time, she was going to get her heart broken.
Fortunately, he hadn’t responded to her late-night text when she’d bowed out from seeing him after a long day. She needed to compose her speech for when she would see him next. It was time for this sexual sojourn to end, no matter how much it hurt.
If she waited any longer, it would only hurt more.
The sun was rising, the sky streaked with pink and orange light when she texted him again, this time asking to see him. They were leaving later today, and she wasn’t sure how she’d sneak away.
Sneak.
She hated that word, and she hated the part of her that had fallen for its allure. The part he’d described as wild.
Her phone vibrated immediately.
Come on over. I’m awake.
Usually he partied long into the night after a massive poker win. Was he still enjoying his victory? She decided to put it out of her mind.
She dressed in a conservative navy suit and tan heels, then let herself out of the suite and made her way to his room. When she knocked, the door immediately opened.
He stood in the doorway, still in his clothes from the night before.
“Is the party still going?” she asked, scanning his face to see if he was drunk.
“Nope,” he said, letting her inside. “I didn’t do much of that, but I couldn’t sleep none. Appears you had the same problem from those blood-shot eyes of yours.”
He didn’t reach for her. Only turned around and walked to the sitting room without waiting for her. He was angry with her, and her gut tightened all the more as she closed the door and followed him. She’d hurt him, which she hadn’t wanted. The knowledge only confirmed her decision.
“Rhett, I didn’t get a chance to tell you congratulations.”
She came to a stop behind the oatmeal-colored couch while he walked over to stand in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows.
“You played brilliantly,” she added when he tucked his fingers in his belt.
“Thank you, Abbie,” he said in a crisp tone. “It’s never easy to beat a friend like Mac, but it’s part of being on the circuit.”
“He never holds it against you,” she said, not knowing what to do with her hands, so she rested them on the back of the couch.
“I figure that’s not why you’re here,” he said. “Seems the moonlight serenade I arranged for you didn’t linger for very long, did it? Well, I suppose that was to be expected, given how different you think we are.”
Her breath caught in her throat at his coolness. He’d never acted like this with her, not in all the years they’d known each other. “We are different, but that’s not what makes this hard. Rhett, we both knew this couldn’t lead to anything.”
“I suppose we did,” he said, rocking on his heels. “And when a lady says the…arrangement has come to an end, a gentleman doesn’t argue with her. I’ll only say that we’re still friends—just like you wanted—and that I enjoyed every minute of it.”
She pressed her hand to her mouth as she considered h
is words. He was making this very easy, but then again, he had more experience with this sort of thing. “Of course we’re friends. That will never change. You know how important you are to Mac and Dustin.”
She refrained from including herself in the list. How was he going to treat her after this? Cool like today? And how was she going to treat him? Could she look at him in her kitchen and not remember what it had been like to come in his arms?
“And you’re always welcome in Arizona,” she added, “although Mac is talking about looking for a place to build another hotel.”
“In Colorado,” Rhett added, nodding. “Maverick has always been more than a poker player. Only Mac can wear an Italian suit on the circuit and not get laughed at.”
Abbie forced a smile, hearing the slight dig in his words. She just couldn’t tell if it was at her or himself.
“Rhett, I’m sorry if I hurt you last night,” she whispered. “I was afraid—”
“I’d pluck you up off the ground in front of the crowd and kiss you senseless,” he finished for her. “You were right to be afraid. I plumb lost my mind. But we won’t have to worry about that again, will we? Parting ways is likely for the best.”
She let her gaze catalogue the angles of his face, the line of his jaw, and the way his golden hair curled against his forehead. “I don’t know what exactly one says in this situation.”
“What do you want to say?” he asked sharply.
She met his eyes. They were as golden as his hair, and she felt a little stab in her heart at the memory of how they’d always sparkled a little brighter after they made love—a brilliance of color that was only for her. “I want to say thank you. I…until you, I’d never enjoyed…you know.”
“I’m glad,” he said quickly. “I enjoyed it as well, Abbie. You take care of yourself, you hear.”
Her throat tightened. He made it sound like it was going to be a long while until they saw each other again. She supposed that might be true. And even if they did see each other, they wouldn’t have any reason to spend time alone. She would never wear his Eli Manning jersey again or walk with him in the moonlight.