Fair Game (The Rules #1) (2 page)

It’s a good look for him.

Damn it.

“I’m done.” Dane throws his cards down in disgust and gets up from his chair, moving so he’s sitting on the bench behind Joel. He claps a hand on Joel’s shoulder in a good luck gesture and plucks the beer out of some random chick’s hand, downing it before he grins at her.

I feel Kelli tense up and I can’t blame her.

Sitting up straight, I peek over Shep’s broad-as-a-mountain shoulder to see exactly what he’s holding. And oh my God, he’s holding something amazing. When I was little, my grandpa taught me everything I know about poker and blackjack. My gambling knowledge always impressed Joel even when I tricked him with that irritating game of fifty-two pickup one time. He fell for it completely.

Thanks Grandpa.

Shep Prescott’s hand is about as good as it gets. As in, he’s holding a full house with tens and jacks. Talk about luck. I can only guess by the way Joel is still sweating and muttering unintelligible words under his breath that he’s got nothing. Or he’s the best bluffer ever.

I’m guessing the first option.

“You in?” Shep asks, his deep voice rumbling from his chest, low and intimidating. Joel looks up, his teeth still sunk in his lower lip and I notice all at once how incredibly young and foolish he appears. He’s wearing a faux vintage Mountain Dew T-shirt he got at Target a few days ago with the gift card his mom sent him and his dark hair is buzzed short. Like he’s ready to join the armed services or something. His face is clean-shaven and a little pale though there’s a faint ruddiness to his cheeks. He looks like a baby compared to Mr. Suave Calm and Cool with the broad shoulders and sexy hair. I’m afraid he’s about to get his ass kicked.

“Uhhh…” Joel draws out the sound, his gaze flickering to mine. I’m shaking my head no, slicing my finger across my neck, anything to get him to fold so he doesn’t get suckered and lose everything. He’s already close enough to losing it all as it is.

“What the hell are you doing?”

Everyone in the room goes silent. Kelli nudges my side with her damn pointy elbow again and I stop gesturing when I realize that Shep Prescott is talking…

To me.

I lift my head to find him glaring at me in that stupid mirror, his dark eyes almost black, his mouth thin. Oh, he looks pissed.

“Are you
cheating?
Is that why your boyfriend brought you here?” he asks when I don’t say anything.

“Um.” I have lost all coherent thought. I’ve also lost the ability to speak.

This isn’t good.

“Forget this fucking hand.” He throws his cards face down into the middle of the table, right on top of the pile of chips, various dollar bills and even a small mountain of quarters that were part of that round’s pot. Everyone playing had already dropped out, one by one, even Dane, until it was just Joel and Shep left. Some had even abandoned their chairs, moving on to grab more beer or play at another table. Or to leave the party with their tails tucked between their legs and their wallets empty.

Not Joel. He’s holding out to the very bitter end. And now I’m getting him into some major trouble.

“Come here.” Shep turns to look at me, his hard stare pinning me in place. I can practically feel his anger coming at me in big, hot waves. All my snarky comments, all my earlier bravado evaporates. “Sit by me,” he commands, pointing at the empty chair beside him.

I stand on shaky legs and approach the table, ignoring Joel, ignoring the snickers from other people watching the spectacle unfold. Without even looking at Shep I fall heavily into the chair beside him, keeping my spine stiff, desperate to put as much distance between us as possible.

But it’s no use. I can smell him. And he smells…fucking incredible. There are no other words for it. A combination of pine and lemon and dirt…okay I know that doesn’t sound very appealing but oh my God, I’m tempted to lean in close and sniff his neck.

I don’t, of course. Instead I grip the edge of the table and allow myself to look in Joel’s direction. The expression on his boyish face is nothing short of misery. I’m starting to wonder if he had a good hand after all. Possibly better than Shep’s? Did I ruin everything? Oh God, if I did, would Joel ever forgive me?

“Don’t look at him,” Shep murmurs, his voice so close to my ear I gasp and turn my head to find his face directly in mine. I can see everything. Every pore in his skin, every little hair in his thick brows, every inky lash that rims his too dark, all seeing eyes. “I want your eyes on me and me only.”

Swallowing hard, I try my best to ignore the anger slowly building inside of me at his threat. But it’s no use. “Are you kidding me?” Who does this guy think he is? So he’s worth a fortune. So he’s ridiculously good looking. So what?

He offers a lopsided smile as he gathers all the cards and starts shuffling like he’s some sort of pro straight out of Vegas. “Nope. I catch you looking in his direction during this next hand and I’ll kick his ass.”

My jaw hangs open as I absorb his words. “You really are an asshole, aren’t you?” I whisper.

The lopsided smile grows. “You’re looking at a top of the line asshole, baby,” he says.

I roll my eyes at the
baby
mention. I hate it when guys call me baby. Though…huh. No guy has ever called me that before. Not even Joel. Considering Joel is only my second semi-serious boyfriend and we’ve been going out for about six months, I guess that’s not saying much but still.

The baby bit should offend me. But it doesn’t. Neither does that smile.

What the hell is wrong with me?

“We’ll play another round of five card draw, just you and me.” Shep jabs his index finger in Joel’s direction. “The pot stays as is. But we’ll still raise. Consider this game,” he pauses and I hear the smug amusement enter his voice, “high stakes.”

Someone groans. I think it might’ve been Joel. Not that I’m allowed to look at him or anything.

“Your girlfriend here.” He touches me. Freaking Shep Prescott risks losing a limb by actually sliding his arm around my shoulders, his hand gripping my upper arm firmly. I can hardly move, what with the way he’s holding me. “You two make eye contact for even a second and you automatically lose.”

“Not a problem,” Joel says, his voice shaking the slightest bit. I wish I could look at him. If I could I’d be telling him to grow some balls and man up.

“So we’re ready?” Shep releases his hold on me, his fingers streaking across my back as he moves away and settles back in his seat. I send him my most evil glare but it doesn’t even faze him. He simply resumes shuffling his cards, slouching in his chair as he does so, his legs going wide so his knee bumps against my thigh.

Ignoring the sizzle that shoots up my leg, I scoot away from him as best I can but he stops me in my tracks.

“You leave, he loses,” Shep murmurs, so low I’m sure no one can hear him but me. “Don’t forget that.”

“Considering you won’t let me, I don’t think you need to worry,” I say with a little snort that I immediately regret. Way to impress him.

But you don’t want to impress him. You think he’s an asshole.

Yeah. I need to remember that.

T
he girl with the sarcastic mouth just made the night infinitely more interesting. I’d been bored out of my skull knowing I was going to win. The pot was small, maybe five hundred bucks. Big fucking deal. The last dude sitting at the table was a nervous little freshman who hadn’t backed down which surprised me. I figured he either had a better hand than me—almost impossible—or he was an excellent bluffer.

Also fairly impossible.

Then the girlfriend had to go and gesture behind me. She saw my hand. The little fucker brought his hot girlfriend to cheat and I hadn’t even noticed. And I always notice that crap. Instead of making sure she was on the up and up while I stared at her in the mirror I put up for the sole purpose of catching cheaters, I caught myself checking her out.

Nice tits. Good skin, if a little on the pale side. Long red hair pulled up into a ponytail and freckles scattered across her cheeks and nose. Freckles pretty much scattered everywhere. Not my normal type but what did me in—besides her tits because they look damn good in that black tank top she’s wearing—was her mouth. Bee stung lips. I can only imagine those lips wrapped tight around my…

“Are you going to deal or spend the entire night staring at me?”

I blink her into focus. She’s a feisty little thing too. What’s she doing with this freshman loser sitting across from me, looking ready to pass out at any given moment? I like her voice, despite all the shitty things she’s been saying about me.

And I’ve heard every single comment since she settled in behind me.

Ignoring her, I deal our hands and check my cards, careful to keep my expression neutral. A pair of queens and three junk cards. I won’t discard until he does first. I’m the dealer so that’s protocol and I don’t want him to know that I only have a pair.

“What’s your name?” I ask the girl.

She crosses her arms in front of her, plumping up her chest. I catch a glimpse of lime green lacy bra peeking above the neckline of her tank. Interesting. “Bitch Face,” she answers serenely.

I laugh. This chick is something else. “Fitting. I’m Shep. Though you already know.” I lower my voice. “Since Mommy has a treat for me and all that.”

Her cheeks go crimson. Busted. But she doesn’t say a word in her defense, which I find admirable.

I turn my focus on her boyfriend. “Hey. Asshole.” He lifts his gaze, pale blue eyes staring into mine. He looks petrified. He should be. “What’s your name?”

“J-Joel.” He clears his throat, his gaze falling to his cards once again. He shifts them around, moving two from one side to the other. Then he plucks one from the five and tosses it out face down. “I need one more please.”

Hell. What kind of hand does he have? I’m pretty sure I’m fucked. “You gonna raise the pot or what?”

He meets my gaze once more, trying to school his expression but I see the flash of triumph. He has a good hand. Fucker thinks he’s gonna win. “Uh, I’ll raise you fifty.” He tosses in the last of his chips.

“Fifty?” I cock a brow and toss in a matching fifty then deal him a single card. “That’s all you got?” I rapidly exchange out my cards, discarding the three junk ones and taking three new ones. I don’t turn them over. Not yet. The anticipation is half the fun especially when I’m fairly sure I’ll lose this round.

Damn it.

“Clearly.” The kid waves a hand in front of him, where zero chips remain.

“Hmm.” I lift my cards, cupping them in my hand so Bitch Face won’t see them. She’s as still as a stone sitting next to me but I can hear her breathing, can feel the tension radiating off her in heavy waves. She doesn’t like this. She’s nervous for her boyfriend especially because she can’t look at him. Her body is angled toward mine and I chance a glance at her before I study what I have.

Holy hell. I dealt myself two more queens. Four of a kind.

Beat that fuck stick.

“Let’s make this interesting,” I say, staring at Joel once more. His expression lights up. Everyone who’d heard of, or who’d come to our little gambling venture in the past know that’s the game changer statement. It’s the cue that the round is about to take a wild turn.

More like it’s one of us—my friend Gabe, my cousin Tristan—bored out of our minds and ready for an adventure. We like to win big. But by winning big, you need to lose big too. That fifty-fifty chance is what always gives me a thrill. I’ve lost more than I’ve won but that doesn’t really bother me.

“What do you have in mind?” Joel asks, impressing me. He’s played this game before. That’s the pat question we want them to ask. I don’t recognize him but I’m guessing he might’ve played a night I wasn’t here, or at someone else’s table.

It doesn’t matter. He understands what’s about to happen and that’s all that matters.

“Let’s see.” I set my cards down and drum my fingers on the green felted table. We run a semi-professional operation here. Gabe owns the house. Well, his family owns the house. We converted it a little less than two years ago, turning the living and dining room into a mini casino a few miles off campus. Blackjack tables, poker tables, hell we even have a roulette table though I hate playing it. Roulette is a game of total chance. The odds are shit.