Poker Face: A Small Town Romance (The Beaufort Poker Club Book 1)

by Maggie Gates

  “I’m not fucking around with us, Mad. Hell—I’ll give you all the fucking keys to my apartment in New York and my condo in L.A. if you wanted them.”

  Maddie’s head snapped toward me, “You bought a house here.”

  “Yeah, I did.”

  “And you want me to move in with you?”

  “Yeah. I do.”

  “Luca, I—”

  “Madeline,” I groaned as I ran my hand back through my hair. This woman could be so infuriating. How the hell didn’t she see it? “I don’t know how the fuck to say it so you hear me. I fucking love you.”

  Maddie put her hand on top of mine and wrapped her fingers around the key. “I hear you.”

  “And?”

  She smiled sheepishly. “And I love you.”

  “And?”

  “And I want to go see your big ass house.”

  “And?”

  “Maybe we’ll take the whole moving-in thing kinda slow?”

  “And?”

  “And I’m sorry for freaking out on you?”

  “And?”

  Maddie looked confused. “And… I don’t know what else.”

  I chuckled, “I know—I was just seeing how far I could push it.”

  She smacked my arm and opened her door. “Jackass.”

  “C’mon, Tesoro,” I grinned as I rounded the hood of the car and took her hand. “Let me show you around.”

  36

  ———

  MADELINE

  I had no words. The house was a dream.

  Beautiful hardwood floors in a dark brown that reminded me of well-tempered chocolate, windows that covered almost every wall, and a kitchen that rivaled the one at work. The main floor reminded me a lot of the beach rental—a big A-frame that looked out over the bay. Luca wasn’t lying; I could see my houseboat and Steve’s house from here.

  Sandwiching a stone fireplace were two built-in bookshelves that were begging to be stocked full of paperbacks. A leather sectional couch that could hold the entire staff of the restaurant filled out the living room. It was clean and masculine, but the natural light and near jungle of plants made it soft. There were four—or maybe it was five—guest bedrooms. I lost count. Luca made comments about converting one to a home office, but the rest tastefully furnished. The basement was a full-on man cave, and honestly, I was a little jealous. Good thing Luca said it would be perfect for poker night. It reminded me of a prohibition-era speakeasy. He had gone with dark walls with pendant lights and installed a wet bar and butler’s kitchen for easy entertaining. He had instructed the builder to convert a closet into a wine cellar, and if I had any doubts about whether I was in love with him, Luca sealed the deal when he showed me a bottle of the same vintage he had sent me when he surprised me with a grocery order.

  “One more thing to show you,” he said as he took my hand and dragged me back up the stairs. We left the man cave and went back into the living room. Luca led me around the massive butcher block island in the kitchen and around a tight corner. He opened the door that I assumed to be the pantry. Instead, there was a steep staircase that was barely wide enough for Luca to squeeze his broad shoulders through. I followed him up, and my jaw dropped.

  It was light and airy—an oasis. Maple floors in a light cream color covered the massive master bedroom. A king-sized bed was pushed up against the wall that was opposite the view of the bay. White linens and pillows were piled high on it. Dark wood beams stretched across the apex of the ceiling. Rays of sunshine peeked in from the skylights. “Oh my god,” I whispered as I pushed open the French doors that were off to the side and stepped out onto the widow’s walk. I’d always dreamed of a house with a widow’s walk. I could see across the bay to the sound, and over the barrier islands to the ocean.

  Luca came up behind me and wrapped his arms around me like Jack and Rose in Titanic. “What do you think?”

  It wasn’t often that I was speechless, but Luca took every word out of my brain.

  He brushed my hair aside and pressed a kiss to the side of my neck and hummed, “You like it?”

  “Luca, it’s—”

  “Ours. Just ours. The rest of the house—my family, your friends—they can all come visit and hang out. But up here is just for us. No one else.”

  I let out a slow breath. He had me spinning and I didn’t know what to do with that.

  “Mad, you’re my girl.”

  I turned around and wrapped my arms around his neck, gently stroking the buzzed hair at the base of his head. “How long are you gonna be in Texas again?”

  “Too long,” he murmured. “I’d rather be here.”

  ✽✽✽

  Hot Guy from the Gym in L.A.: Miss you. Call you when I’m out of this meeting. Let me know if you’re free to talk.

  I hadn’t exactly changed Luca’s name in my phone since California. I liked it better this way. The one-eighty of who I thought he was the day we ran together at the gym in Los Angeles to who he was to me now was still a little mind-blowing. He wasn’t the hot, cocky playboy who hit on every girl in sight. He wasn’t the asshole judge. He wasn’t the cruel boss I thought he was going to be. Past the harsh, tattooed exterior, he was soft and loving. I couldn’t hide the fact that I was head over heels for the man, so I stopped trying. I’d been in a shitty mood ever since he left to go to Texas, and it had everything to do with the fact that I was sleeping alone.

  Luca had been gone for four days, and I was flogging myself for how much I missed him already. I guess that’s what happens when you’re in love. Every day, I drove by the house to water all the plants and lock everything up, but I slept at my place. It felt weird to be in that big house without Luca. The first day he was gone, I dragged Hannah Jane over with me. Of course, she fawned over every square inch of it. I’d given her the grand tour except for the hidden master suite. That was mine and Luca’s alone.

  Goosebumps cropped up on my arms, and I closed my eyes as I remembered the one night we spent in it. I had to brace my hands against the headboard to keep Luca from driving my body into the wall with each thrust. Every dark promise, every dirty praise—he drew me further and further under his spell.

  My phone buzzed again, but this time it was a selfie of Luca and a cow.

  Hot Guy from the Gym in L.A.: This one looks tasty.

  The next photo he sent was him and four other men—the Griffith brothers. Luca had gone down to a little town in Texas to see about opening a restaurant on the Griffith Brother’s cattle ranch. It was going to be a carnivore’s destination eatery. Grass-fed, dry aged steaks from cattle raised right there on the land. Everything on the menu would be locally sourced. He wanted to model the building after Revanche—exposed brick, indoor and outdoor dining, and a view that couldn’t be beaten

  I couldn’t argue—it was a damn good business plan. Luca seemed confident that he wanted to get in on this project, so when he told me he would have to extend his trip by a few days to work out the partnership agreement, I didn’t think anything of it. I had him more often than not. Who was I to complain?

  “Hey, babe,” I said as I trapped my phone between my ear and shoulder and emptied my locker for the night. “How’s it going down there?”

  Luca’s voice sounded exhausted. “It, uh, it’s good. Negotiations are tough, but I think it’s coming together. How was your day?”

  “Busy. Slammed service, lots of weddings this weekend. I had to sit in on a few catering consults with Scott for next year.”

  “You sound tired.”

  “I could say the same about you.”

  “I miss you,” he sighed. “Damn, it’s been like a week, and I feel like a middle schooler pining over the weekend because he can’t see his crush until Monday.”

  I giggled as I locked the restaurant door behind me and walked to my Jeep. “Well then, maybe you should come home.”

  “You know, I like the sound of that.”

  I slid in behind the wheel and shut the door. There was something sad in the
sound of his voice that tipped me off that there was something he wasn’t telling me. “But?”

  Luca sighed, “But I’m gonna have to head back to New York right after I get things squared away here.”

  “Oh.”

  “Yeah.” He groaned and muttered something under his breath, “This sucks, Mad.”

  “How long are you gonna be in New York?”

  “Few days. Investor’s meeting.”

  “And after that?”

  “Then I can come home to you.”

  I backed out of my parking space and headed toward Jokers. I didn’t feel like going to Luca’s house or to my houseboat. I was tempted to go back inside and keep working. I switched the phone to my left hand. “I’ll be counting down the days.”

  “You and me both, Tesoro. I love you.”

  “I love you too.”

  “Hey—” Luca cut in before I hung up.

  “Yeah?”

  “Call me when you get home, will you? Just so I know you’re safe.”

  Something warm and fluttery broke loose in my chest. No one except my mom had ever said that to me before. And it had been a long time since my mom had said it. “I will.”

  “Love you.”

  “Bye,” I sighed as I yanked the steering wheel and practically careened into the parking lot at Jokers. I got out and shivered as the October breeze blew off the coast. I should have put on a jacket, but what was the point when I had whiskey to warm me up?

  The yellow of the lights mixed with the blue neon beer signs cast a friendly glow inside. I took my usual spot at the bar and flagged down Bridget. I looked around as she made her way over and spotted Steve and Mel sitting at a booth. “What’s that about?” I asked Bridget as I nodded my head in Steve’s direction.

  Bridget shrugged, “Came in about an hour ago and had dinner.”

  “They came in together?”

  She nodded. “What are we drinking tonight?”

  “Jack. In a glass. Neat. I don’t even care what kind of glass—just whiskey in some kind of container that’s easy to refill. Lord knows I’ll probably finish the bottle.”

  “That bad, huh?”

  “I miss him,” I grumbled.

  Bridget laughed as she grabbed the bottle of Jack Daniels off the shelf and poured me a healthy serving. “Babe, that’s a good thing.”

  “Doesn’t feel like it.”

  “Well,” she said as she swiped the terrycloth towel across the bar and tossed it in a bucket of sanitizer. “You know what they say about bartenders—We’re cheaper than therapists.”

  I snorted into my glass, “Pretty sure that’s what alcoholics say.”

  “Han told me the new house is a fucking mansion.”

  I nodded and sipped on my drink, “He wants to have everyone over for poker night the next time he’s in town.”

  “Sa-weeeeet!” She cheered. “I’m so down for that.” Bridget gave me a hard assessment and added, “Why don’t you seem thrilled that your man actually gets along with your friends? You know that Kyle actually got mad when I invited him to come to poker night a few weeks ago? Said he wouldn’t be anywhere that Chase was and he didn’t like me spending so much time with other guys.”

  “You and Chase have been friends for a long ass time. If something was gonna happen, it would’ve happened already.”

  “That’s what I told him. He just gets jealous… It’s kind of sweet. I guess I like having someone who really wants me. Kind of like you and Luca, you know? It feels good.”

  “I guess,” I shrugged as I tipped the glass back and finished it off.

  “Another round?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” As Bridget turned to grab the bottle, my phone lit up on the bar. A number I didn’t recognize flashed on the screen. Figuring that maybe it was Luca calling from a different phone, I answered. “Hello?”

  “Is this Madeline Dorsey?”

  Not Luca. Probably just some stupid spammer who was going to tell me I won the lottery, but the deposed king of Nigeria needed the winnings. “Speaking. Who is this?”

  “Chef Dorsey, this is Aiden Crawford—we met at the James Beard Awards last month.”

  I choked on my whiskey and furiously waved down Bridget and mimed that I was going to take the call outside. I saw her slide my glass behind the bar as I stepped out into the parking lot. “Of course. What can I do for you, Mr. Crawford?”

  He chuckled on the other end of the line, “I, uh, I’m sorry for ambushing you like this. Usually I’d go through your employer, but—”

  “But my employer is Luca?”

  “Mixing business colleagues and personal contacts can be tricky.”

  I crossed my arms over my chest to ward off the nip in the air. “What exactly is this about, Mr. Crawford.”

  “Aiden, please.”

  “Aiden.”

  He cleared his throat and said, “I’m calling on behalf of a friend of mine who’s opening up a new restaurant in the city. They want you, and I said I’d make a call to see if you were interested.”

  “The city as in—”

  “New York City. You’re bound for big things, Chef Dorsey. It’s time you started looking outside of that little town of yours.”

  “Listen,” I said with a short laugh of disbelief, “I’m flattered, but I’m not looking for another job right now.”

  Aiden chuckled, “I figured you’d say that, but I feel the need to mention that François Toussaint is the one headhunting you. He’s putting together the pastry team. French cuisine with a modern twist. You’d be his sous chef.”

  Holy fucking shitballs. François Toussaint was a culinary god. He was a master pastry chef who had put together not one, but three pastry teams that had earned Michelin stars. It was like Coach K asking if you wanted to not only be on Duke’s basketball team, but if you also wanted to be the team captain.

  “I’ll take that silence to mean that you’re interested,” Aiden said.

  “I, uh—I mean…” How could I not be interested in the offer of a lifetime? Luca had an apartment in New York. His head office was there, his family was there. Would leaving Beaufort really be such a terrible thing? I felt guilty keeping Luca tied to Beaufort. Sure—he bought a house here, but he had houses everywhere. “Can I think about it?”

  “Of course. I’m just making the call on behalf of Toussaint. I don’t have numbers or dates, and I’m sure that’s something you’d need before making a big decision like this. I’ll have my P.A., Blaire, get you connected with the hiring manager.”

  “Thank you. That sounds great.”

  “And Madeline, if I may—it might be easier to stay where you are, but the easy choice might not be the right one.”

  “Thanks for giving me a call. I really appreciate it. I’ll look out for a message from Blaire.”

  “Have a good night.”

  “You too.” I hung up and blew out a breath as I leaned against the chipped siding of the bar. I scrolled through my messages, hoping to see one from Luca. Nothing. I tapped his name and waited patiently for the call to connect, but instead of picking up, Luca sent it to voicemail. There was a quiet ding as an email from Blaire Staunton popped up on my screen. She had forwarded the hiring offer from François Toussaint. The starting offer nearly knocked me on my ass. The base salary was way more than what I made killing myself working overtime at Revanche. It was enough that I could breathe easy when it came to paying for mom’s care. Hell, I could actually start squirreling away part of my paycheck in that retirement account that mocked me every time I looked at the balance. Even with the cost of living being higher in New York, it wouldn’t matter.

  François Toussaint wanted me on his team.

  The door to the bar opened as a few men stumbled out and I caught sight of Bridget, Melissa, and Steve huddled up together, laughing. Dammit. I’d miss them like hell. When I worked in New York City after college, The Poker Club hadn’t been as tight as it is now. They were my makeshift family. Was that loss worth the pri
ce?

  I didn’t know.

  37

  ———

  LUCA

  “This is Maddie! If I didn’t pick up, it’s probably because I’m working and you should know better than to call! Text me instead!”

  I growled as I got Maddie’s voicemail again. Three weeks. Three mother fucking weeks. After the delay in Texas that backed up to my quarterly investor’s meeting, to a last-minute appearance in San Diego, and then back to New York to finalize another deal, it had been over three weeks since I’d seen her.

  At first it wasn’t bad—we talked a few times a day, but after the first week, it dropped off to once a day. Then we started talking every other day.

  Then it turned into voicemails back and forth. Between the scheduled meetings and bits of public image maintenance—or interviews, as Astrid called them, I didn’t have any free time.

  Celeste Montgomery had reached out to see if we could sit down again. She needed a little more for her article since she spent the entirety of our first meeting flirting instead of listening. Not that she’d ever admit that. Celeste said the magazine had given her a bigger spread for the article and she had more space, so she wanted to meet at my New York apartment to see me at home.

  Of course, Astrid had to open her big mouth and tell her about my recent real estate investment in Beaufort. Astrid had a key, and Maddie wasn’t sleeping there while I was away, so I gave Astrid and Celeste permission to have it photographed for the article.

  The beep from Maddie’s voicemail snapped me back to the present. “Hey, beautiful. Just calling to let you know I’m on my way. I’m about an hour outside of Raleigh. Be there this evening.”

  I tossed my phone into the passenger’s seat and cursed the fact that I hadn’t checked the staff schedule at Revanche to see if she was at work or not. Knowing her, she was. I set the cruise control, and I hopped on the bypass just outside of Goldsboro and sunk back in the seat. Maybe it was good that Maddie and I had some space. It was going to be the norm if this thing between us was going to be a long-term relationship. And I wanted it to be. That didn’t make it any easier, but at least I knew we could handle it.