Texas Hold 'Em

by Christie Craig

  They didn’t talk, and it felt awkward. Was she still thinking about the gun? He walked back into the kitchen, brought the skillet to the table, and put their sandwiches on the plates.

  She set the glasses on the table and dropped into a chair. Then she met his eyes and neither of them said anything.

  Finally, she spoke. “Is something wrong?”

  “No. Why?”

  She looked at him. “You’re frowning.”

  “No, it’s…” He didn’t want to lie. “Sorry, I just got off the phone right before you came in.” He remembered the chips and guacamole. Popping up, he grabbed the chips from the pantry, then snagged the prebought guacamole from the fridge.

  “Bad news?” She reached for her wine as he opened the chips and pulled the top off the dip.

  There wasn’t a reason in the world for him to tell her the truth, but since he’d already told more than he normally told anyone, he decided what the hell. He dropped back in his chair.

  “Yeah. The woman who… who dares to call herself my mom is trying to nettle her way into my life. She wants us to talk.”

  “Wow. That would be… tough. I guess. But it could be good.”

  “Not good.” He held out the bag of chips. She took three and put them on her plate. He dropped a handful on his.

  She picked up one chip. “What does she want to talk about?”

  “Don’t know, don’t care,” he said.

  He cut his sandwich in half, and even with his anger popping off like fireworks in his chest, he realized this might be the opening he needed to move the conversation back to her dad.

  “If your dad hadn’t died, and he came to… talk, would you let him back into your life? Forgive him?” He handed her the knife to cut her own sandwich.

  She cut her grilled cheese. What she didn’t do was answer. She picked up half the sandwich, and cheese oozed out of the two slices of grilled bread.

  “Man, this looks good.” She took a bite and he watched her savor it. She closed her eyes and flicked her tongue out to catch a loose string of cheese.

  “You like?” He smiled for real for the first time since she showed up.

  She moaned. “Like? No. This is love. True love.” She talked around the melted cheddar, crisp bacon, and good sour dough bread lightly toasted and cooked in real butter. “I think I just died and went to heaven. Of course, I think I just gained an inch around my hips, too.”

  He glanced under the table and then came back up. “Your hips look fine.”

  She rolled her eyes. “How many pieces of cheese did you put in here?”

  “Only three.” He reached over and caught a piece of cheese that hung on her chin.

  “Sorry.” She grabbed a napkin. “You can’t take me anywhere.”

  Yeah he could, he thought. And first place he’d like to take her was back to heaven, but in a completely different way. A completely sexual way. And he could think of a dozen different things he’d like to do to match the expression the sandwich had netted.

  She looked at him, looking at her. And she pointed at his plate. “You’d better start eating. If I finish first, I can’t promise you I won’t steal yours.”

  “And just when I put my gun away.” He ate a couple of bites and watched as she continued with her meal.

  “Guacamole?” He nudged it to her after he’d used a chip and put two heaping scoops on his plate.

  “No, thank you.” She picked up her other half a sandwich. “I think my fat intake has hit the ceiling already. For the next two weeks.”

  “Don’t tell me you’re one of those women who worries about every bite you eat?”

  She made a cute face. “I’m short and that means I have to eat like a short person, but I think I got a tall person’s appetite. Not that I don’t eat bad stuff all the time. I’ll just have to do my aerobics video twice tonight.”

  “You’re not short.”

  She cut him a get-real look.

  “Well, I mean you are… short, but you’re proportionate.”

  “Now there’s a compliment I won’t forget.” Smiling, she put her sandwich back on her plate.

  He pointed a chip at her. “What I meant was… you look great.”

  She grabbed a chip off her plate and dipped it in the guacamole. She bit the end of the chip and sighed. “Oh, my. I might have to do the video twice and get on my elliptical.”

  He grinned. “If you want, I can take the rest of that sandwich off your hands.”

  She frowned. “Over my dead body.”

  “Fine, but save room for ice cream. Pecan cheesecake. And I picked up some of that Chocolate Shell.”

  “Kill me now,” she said.

  The conversation moved around for the next twenty minutes. He helped himself to ice cream and talked her into a very small bowl. Which she ate slowly. He hadn’t missed the fact that she never answered the question about her dad. But he knew better than to pry.

  At the first break in the conversation, he leaned back, pushed his empty plate and ice cream bowl aside, and said, “Tell me about your brother.” He didn’t even feel like a lout asking, because he wasn’t just digging for information, he was genuinely concerned.

  She smiled, and affection flashed in her eyes as she did a lap around her bowl with her spoon. “Well, he’s a royal pain in the butt sometimes, but… he’s a good kid.” She popped the spoon in her mouth and licked it clean.

  “Do you want more?” he asked, watching her eat. Getting hot watching her work the spoon.

  “No.” She dropped the utensil in her bowl.

  He recalled her telling him that her aunt had died. “He’s a lot younger than you, right?”

  “Six years.”

  He picked up his wineglass, then stood up and snagged the bottle from the counter. “I’d offer you more, but I promised that—”

  “No. This is all I need.” She put her hand over her glass, which still held some wine.

  He settled back into his seat and topped off his glass. “What’s he taking in school?”

  “It was a toss-up between law or hotel management. I wanted law, he wanted hotel management. But since I know how important it is to do something you love, I gave in.”

  “So you really love taking care of cats?” he asked, hoping he didn’t sound cynical.

  “Yes.” She sighed, and he could tell she meant it. “Neutering is the most fun,” she teased.

  “Ouch!” He grinned. “So, Luis… that’s your brother’s name, right?” And when she nodded, he continued, “So how old was Luis when your aunt died?”

  “He was fifteen and I was twenty-one.”

  “Did you take over custody?”

  “Of course,” she said. Wasn’t that what family was supposed to do? Take care of each other?

  He sipped his wine and studied her. She was easy to look at. “That must have been tough becoming a parent of a teen. And you were in school, too. Did he give you hell?”

  “Depends on what you mean by hell. Did I find him drinking beer when he was underage a couple of times? Yeah. Did I find his stash of Playboy magazines? Yeah. Did I have to push him to do better in school? Yeah. But he’s smart, supersmart. And sometimes he’d make a B on a report card, not because he didn’t ace the test, but because he wouldn’t do his homework. But really, other than one time being led astray by some not-so-good people and almost following the wrong path—which, thank God, he didn’t do—he’s been good.”

  Austin turned his wineglass in his hand. “Not to bring up a bad subject, but this afternoon when I overheard—”

  “Eavesdropped,” she corrected, and shot him a look of discontent.

  “Okay, when I eavesdropped. It sounded like you were worried he’d gotten himself into trouble again.”

  She nodded. “Yeah, well, he assured me that wasn’t the case.”

  He paused, unable to come up with a way to bring up the subject, so he just blurted it out. “Do you want to tell me more about this Cruz guy?”

  She
looked up at him disapprovingly beneath her long lashes. “No. Why end a perfectly good dinner with that?” She pulled out her phone. “Oh, my, it’s almost nine. I should help do these dishes and then head back.”

  “You turn into a pumpkin at nine?”

  “Yeah, and you don’t want to see it. I get the same look on my face as when I’m neutering.”

  He grinned.

  She started gathering dishes.

  “You don’t have to do this,” he said.

  “Please. It’s the least I can do.” She walked into the kitchen, opened the dishwasher, and started loading them up. He enjoyed the view as she bent over, too.

  He moved in beside her and started putting the chips and guacamole away. Stepping by the sink to stand beside her, he decided to give it one more try. “I know a few good detectives. I bet they could run some checks on this Cruz guy and—”

  “No,” she said. “I’m handling it.”

  “How?” he asked.

  She glanced back at the table. “Are you done with your wineglass?”

  Her ponytail shifted over her shoulders. This close he caught another whiff of waffle cones. He reached up and caught a strand between his fingers and brought it to his nose.

  She cut her eyes up to him again. “Are you smelling my hair?”

  He chuckled. “I’m trying to figure out if that’s what smells like… like waffle cones.”

  “Waffle cones?” She pulled her hair from his hand.

  “Yeah, like toasted cookie with extra vanilla.”

  “That would be my shampoo.”

  “I like it.” He leaned in closer.

  She reached back and brought the water gun around. “Remember the rules.”

  “I never was much of a rule follower.” He bumped his shoulder with hers.

  “You’re going to be a wet non-rule-follower.”

  “You wouldn’t do that again, would you?” He loved the humor dancing in her eyes.

  She shot him, right in the chest. He grabbed the squirter attached to the back of the sink. She turned to run, but the spray got her between her shoulders. She squealed, turned, and shot him again. He gave her another squirt right in her face this time.

  “Okay, I give up. You’ve got a bigger gun.” She held up her arms, emphasizing her breasts, and damn if he didn’t want to pull her into him. “Drop your nozzle,” she said.

  “Drop your gun,” he countered.

  She squirted him and turned to run. But the tile was wet and she lost her footing. He grabbed her, but she fell and he lost his balance. They went down together on the wet tile. Both of them laughing. She landed on top of him. And holy hell, she felt good there.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  THEIR EYES MET. The humor sobered. “We’re being silly.” She started to get up.

  He caught her. Not enough force to stop her, but enough to let her know he didn’t want her to leave. “No. We’re having fun. And I haven’t had this much fun in… in a long time.”

  She put her hands on his chest to push up, but she hesitated. “I have to go.”

  “One kiss,” he said without thinking.

  “I already kissed you once.” She didn’t push away.

  He raised his head, his lips a breath away from hers. “Then one more,” he whispered. His lips met hers. Soft, supple, and so sweet. She was the one who deepened the kiss. She was the one who moved up a few inches, so the position was more comfortable. He rested his back on the hard cold tile.

  Her hips fit against his. And when her body did that light shift upward, he went hard in zero flat.

  She pulled her lips from his, lifted her head, and glanced at him. Her wide eyes looked dazed and her lips well kissed. “That’s two.”

  “We could go for three.” He held his breath.

  She leaned down and this kiss was different. No holding back. It was her in pure abandonment. On her part. And on his.

  Her hand, soft and hesitant, slipped inside his T-shirt and moved up over his abdomen.

  Up, when he ached for it to go down. He reached down, unhooked the top of his jeans, and lowered his zipper to ease the pressure.

  Then his hands moved up and under her shirt, all the way up, and slipped the soft cotton over her head. She held her arms up to make the removal easy.

  Now sitting up, straddling his pelvis and his hard-on, she reached back and unhooked her bra. His breath caught as the straps slipped down and breasts were bare, and beautiful.

  Reaching up, he traced her dusty rose–colored nipples. “You’re so beautiful.”

  Then sitting up, he rested her on the floor and settled on top of her. With his weight on his elbows, he kissed her lips and then moved down to her breasts.

  Gently, he suckled her nipple and slipped his hands down and unsnapped her jeans. The zipper eased down as he slid his hand inside.

  He found her wet and soft. His chest clutched with want.

  His dick throbbed.

  His phone rang.

  Their eyes met.

  “Shit!” he said. What the hell were they doing?

  She took a deep breath and her eyes widened, and he knew she was thinking the same thing.

  She pressed a palm on his shoulder. “I shouldn’t have… I should… go.”

  He rolled off her. His phone continued to ring.

  She leaped up, snagged her shirt, and slipped it over her head. Then she took a bolt to the door.

  “Leah?” He shot up and caught up with her right before she walked out. “Don’t… leave mad.” He raked a hand through his hair, and he smelled her scent on his hand. His dick hardened to new levels.

  She turned around. “I’m not. I just can’t. I can’t do that… this.”

  “Why?” He knew his reasons why he shouldn’t, but he didn’t understand hers.

  “I’m… I’m not ready.”

  He fought the need to straighten things in his crotch. “Your ex hurt you that bad?”

  “Yeah.” She nodded. “Him and a few others before him.”

  “Cruz?” he asked, and instantly wanted to catch that asshole and make him hurt.

  “No, well, maybe. But… I really have to go.”

  He watched her step out, but then she turned back. The look of passion in her eyes had faded. She paused as if she wanted to say something, but was hesitant.

  “What?” he asked.

  Her big brown eyes blinked. “The question you asked me, the one I didn’t answer. The one about my dad and if I would have wanted him back in my life.” She paused. “Before he died, I used to dream about him showing up, wanting that very thing. I’m not sure I could have really forgiven him, but it would have been nice to know he tried. But he didn’t. He didn’t try. At least your mom is trying. You may not be able to forgive her, but one day you might not be able to forgive yourself for not listening. So my advice, not that you asked for it, is to just listen to her.”

  Roberto finished the book at ten that night. Reclining on the sofa, he looked at his phone. He wanted to call Sara. Wanted to tell her he’d read the book and agreed with her. Men should read romance novels.

  It validated men’s drive for sex, but left him with the realization that the true satisfaction came with emotion and sex. Men needed the emotion women brought to the table, or to the bed… or in this case, the hot tub. Sure, there were some touchy-feely scenes that certainly resonated more with the feminine point of view, but the fun was seeing how the male characters responded to those scenes. And damn if in the end, even the emotionally packed scenes were, well… enjoyable. It made him realize what was important. Not the job, not the material things. It was the people in your life.

  And it made him think about sex. It wasn’t written like porn, it was like a Hallmark card, but with sex. It was wholesome but still sexy. He hadn’t felt his dick twitch so much in a long time. As if the damn thing was coming back to life and making demands.

  He closed his eyes and imagined Sara reading those scenes. Did she respond to them the way he d
id? Then he wondered why Anna hadn’t ever encouraged him to read romance novels. She’d read them all the time.

  Because you were too busy trying to get through school and make a living at the same time. What he wouldn’t give to go back and change things. To have spent more time with his family and less time trying to make a dollar and get through school. Sure, it had been for their future, but with the future robbed from him, the price felt too high.

  Regrets. Funny how much you could regret doing the right thing.

  He could still remember Anna running home crying. I saw… I saw something crazy. She’d been shaking so hard, he’d been afraid she would drop Bobby. I was putting gas in and a car pulled up and then one guy got out of the car. He had a gun. I dropped the gas nozzle and got in the car. I had to get Bobby away. But I looked back and I saw like a flash. I think he shot someone. And the bad thing is, I knew him, I went to school with him. His name is Rafael DeLuna. He was always getting in trouble then.

  “Wait! You actually saw this guy shoot someone?”

  She’d started crying. Roberto had done the right thing. He’d held her for a long time and then called their neighbor to watch Bobby so he could drive Anna to the police station. She told them what she’d seen, about how she’d left the parking lot because she’d been so scared.

  They stayed at that precinct for several hours. They’d even shown her pictures of several guys and she’d picked DeLuna out. Supposedly, he already had a record for some stuff.

  A couple days later, the cops dropped by and told them that they’d brought DeLuna in for questioning, but he’d had a solid alibi. He’d been at a girlfriend’s house. They wanted Anna to look at some more photos. She argued that she knew what she’d seen. She’d been certain.

  Less than a week later, Anna and Bobby were gone. They said she’d driven across the train tracks right in front of a train. He knew better. Anna was the safest driver he knew. Hell, her cousin had been hit by a train and lost his leg when she was young. Trains scared his wife. She never crossed a railroad track without stopping and checking several times. Even Freddie, Anna’s brother, didn’t believe it.

  She wouldn’t have crossed a train track with a train coming.