by Black, Regan
Evelyn suppressed a smile as the winner gathered his chips. He took his time stacking the chips into his tray and then finally slid out of his seat, tossing a mock salute to the losing players.
Groans and complaints erupted from the remaining players. Everyone wanted a chance to change their luck.
“Know when to quit, that’s my motto,” the winner said. “There’s a song about that right?”
“More than one,” she replied.
With a wink, he slid a hundred-dollar chip her way as a tip.
“Thank you. It was a pleasure having you at the Silver Aces.” Evelyn delivered the standard response politely when inside she was doing a dance of joy.
When the remaining players were settled again, she pulled the freshly shuffled deck from the automatic shuffler and prepared to deal the next game. She didn’t need a clock to know her break was due after this game, her aching feet and back kept time for her. Tonight, she was looking forward to getting to the break room so she could check her phone. She wanted to make sure her dad was all right and, with luck, there would be an email from Tate with new post-storm options for tour times.
“Pardon me. Is it too late to slide in for this hand?”
She shot a quick glance at the poker room host and confirmed the customer was in the right place. Giving the man a nod to take the seat, she waited for him to post his minimum bet and then she dealt him in.
“Evelyn Cotton,” he said as the players checked their cards. “Wow. It’s really you.”
That voice filtered through her senses, a sweet memory and brand new at the same time. Her head snapped up and she was immediately caught in a bright, laser-blue gaze. Those familiar eyes seemed to freeze time, stopping it short and pitching her backward.
Wyatt Jameson.
This was the last place on earth she’d expect to see him. Of course she’d given up on ever seeing him again, period. What had she done so wrong that fate or luck or whatever dumped him at her table? Her gaze swept over the room. Surely there had been another dealer with an open seat.
Somehow, she forced her attention back to the game. Verifying bets on the first round were complete, she turned up three cards in the middle of the table. For the first time since she’d gone solo as a dealer in this room her stomach churned with something just shy of panic.
“How have you been?” he asked after placing his second-round bet.
“Fabulous.” The audacity of the man to walk in here and act as if they were old friends who’d simply lost touch.
She dealt the turn, adding the fourth card to the middle of the table. Reading her players, she gave a nod acknowledging one player raising the bet and another player folding. Wyatt added chips, staying in the game.
With an effort, she wrenched her gaze from his. She hadn’t seen those stunning eyes since the night they’d graduated high school. Eleven long, lonely years without a word from the guy who’d been her best friend and her boyfriend. During those last two years of high school, she’d given him her heart and her virginity, shared all of her dreams and the worst of her fears. She’d bared her soul to him, revealing all of that and her budding expectations for the two of them.
Dealing the river, she turned up the fifth card in the middle of the table and called for final bets.
As each player made a bet or folded, she called for the showdown, less surprised than she should’ve been when Wyatt won. While her mind whirled over what brought Wyatt back to Deadwood, she cleared the table of cards and chips and reset for the next game.
Growing up had not been easy for him. As his best friend, she’d caught glimpses of the rocky home life he’d endured on a daily basis. Still, in her heart there had been an understanding between them, and she’d been crushed when he’d walked away, with zero explanation.
Eleven years of silence. No letters or calls. He’d simply excised himself from both Deadwood and her in one shocking move. She’d been shattered more than heartbroken. He’d been the one person she’d counted on and confided in and she’d thought…
Well, clearly what she’d thought had been irrelevant.
By some miracle her hands didn’t falter in the next deal. Muscle memory was a wonderful thing, she supposed. She should’ve been focused on the game and the other players, yet one question screeched incessantly through her mind: why was he here?
“What brings you to the Silver Aces this evening, Mr. Jameson,” she said, oozing professional courtesy. If they’d met on the street she might have tackled him. She indulged in a quick fantasy of wrapping her hands around his throat until that sexy half-grin disappeared.
“Mr. Jameson? That’s my dad’s name. You always called me Wyatt.” He smiled at the other players. “We went to high school together.”
That earned both of them a round of vaguely curious murmurs and glances from the others at the table. Evelyn called for opening bets, motioning to him as she would any other overly-chatty player and moving the game along. The casino only made money when the cards and money were flowing, and the casino was her priority, not unanswerable questions.
This time Wyatt lost. She mentally gave Lady Luck a high five. Normally winning or losing only troubled her if a player was rude or belligerent about it. Not this time. As soon as she reached the relative privacy of the breakroom, she was going to give in to the whoop of delight swirling inside her.
Her thoughts might be mildly inappropriate, but no one would know or care. Especially not Wyatt. If he’d cared about her at all, he would’ve taken a minute to say goodbye before walking out of her life.
Her replacement walked up, timing the changeover perfectly. “That’s it for me, gentleman.” She smiled at each of the men around her table, including Wyatt, as she gathered her tips, including the chip from Wyatt. “It’s been a pleasure and I wish each of you the best of luck here at the Silver Aces.”
Doing the job well was far more important, and more mature, than indulging her childish vindictive streak and sticking out her tongue as she walked by her old flame.
Her father hated that she spent the off-season in the casino but without the seasonal work, they would’ve lost the business five years ago. She’d long ago stopped pointing out that her expansion ideas would put an end to her days of dealing poker. That line of thinking only created more resentment, one thing her personal life didn’t need more of, so she cut it short.
There was a petty victory cheer and a dance of joy in her immediate future just as soon as she exited the casino floor.
“Evie?”
She flinched at the sound of the nickname that was used so rarely these days. Of course Wyatt had followed her. Of course he would revert to that old familiarity, sweeping her back to the days when they’d thought they were unstoppable and love would last forever. She walked on, refusing to turn around.
“Can we talk?”
“No.” No, no, no! The hurt and angry teenager standing guard at the wall she’d build around her heart screamed. He didn’t deserve another minute of her time.
“Please?” He fell into step beside her.
Slot machines chimed and jingled all around them. Lights flashed and a ticker high on the wall showed the odds on the upcoming heavyweight boxing match in Las Vegas as well as a tennis tournament in Shanghai.
All of that overwhelming stimulus and yet her senses were dialed in on Wyatt. The natural feel of him striding beside her and the enticing scent of his skin drew her back. Why? After eleven years, neither of those factors should be familiar. They were both different people, two adults on paths that should never intersect.
As the past threatened to swamp her, she considered what had changed. His youthful athletic build had filled out. That short beard sculpting his jaw made her fingers tingle with the urge to touch. There was a subtle hitch in his gait that she couldn’t quite pin down. He was in a casino, for crying out loud, and playing poker with the skill of a man who did so regularly.
That stopped her. She gathered her composure and schooled her ex
pression as she faced him. She was still on the floor, and therefore still required to maintain an upbeat, positive experience for every guest. Her feelings were irrelevant. The security cameras catching this exchange from every possible angle would only see a valued customer speaking with an employee. Wyatt hadn’t taken a threatening position or been rude. She had to respond properly.
“Of course we can talk.” She smiled. Cool, detached. “What would you like to discuss, Mr. Jameson?”
Flags of color stained his bold cheekbones and his lips flat-lined, framed by the fashionably scruffy beard.
“Evie—”
“Ms. Cotton,” she corrected. “Please. We pride ourselves on our superb and always-appropriate customer service, Mr. Jameson.”
“Would you stop?” He crowded her without moving a muscle. “It’s me.”
Yes, that was exactly why this entire encounter pushed the needle well beyond bizarre. “Are you with the weather service now or something?” It was the only plausible explanation she could think of for Wyatt’s appearance in a Deadwood casino.
“What?” He shook his head. “No. There has to be somewhere we can speak privately.” His voice rumbled over her, abrading her senses as effectively as his whiskers might. If she gave him the chance to get that close. Which she couldn’t do here. Or anywhere.
While holding the professional smile, she shook her head slightly. “Not here.”
For her ‘here’ included the casino, the shops, the restaurants and Deadwood as a whole. She wouldn’t go anywhere with him. Couldn’t. Being this close, recognizing the flare of heat in his blue gaze, made her want to forget everything he’d put her through and hit a reset switch.
She knew better, had to cling to logic and reason, even if her body was a traitor and didn’t care about the way he’d crushed her heart. Yes, he looked good enough to eat and the slight hitch in his step somehow added to the swagger.
“Maybe a manager can be of more assistance,” she suggested.
“Damn it, Evie. We were friends.”
“We were.” She folded her hands at her waist to keep them still while she waited for whatever he had to say.
“I’d like to reconnect.” His gaze turned intense and she had the feeling she was supposed to parse out some meaning in what he wasn’t saying. “At least let me buy you a coffee?”
“No, thank you.”
His nostrils flared and his gaze narrowed. “I deserve that.”
And more. She smiled when she wanted to snarl. “You deserve the best experience possible at the—”
“Please don’t say it.” He tucked his hands into his pockets, that blue gaze slicing right through her. “You’re at work, I respect that.” He glanced over her head, scanning the rows of slot machines.
Old habits, she supposed. At least now he was old enough to be in here legally to look around. His mom had been gone at least three years now. There had been an obituary in the paper and a graveside service. Evelyn hadn’t attended the service, but she’d sent a sympathy card and a donation from Cottonwood Adventures.
“When are you off?”
“I’m afraid it’s all hands on deck through the storm,” she said. It might be true, but she wouldn’t know for sure until she actually got to the breakroom. As much as she didn’t want to deal with six feet or more of snow, she could use the extra shifts.
“You expect me to believe you’re working straight through for the next three days.”
“That’s right.” She dared him to contradict her. “Minimum.”
“I see.” He rocked back on his heels. “Sounds like an abuse of the work force. Maybe I should call it in.”
“Is that what you do now? Go around causing trouble for happy casino employees?”
“You’re not happy here,” he stated with too much confidence.
Her chin lifted. She wasn’t unhappy here and she didn’t owe him any explanations about why dealing poker was an important part of her life. “My happiness isn’t your concern anymore.” She pushed the words through her clenched teeth and tight smile.
He reeled as if she’d slapped him. If only. Maybe she should agree to meet him somewhere. It would have to be somewhere outside and well off the established trails where she could finally let loose with all the pain-filled words and hateful thoughts she’d aimed his way through the years.
That bubble of old hurt and anger swelled in her chest and it took every ounce of willpower to keep her temper locked down while they were in public. At last, the bubble popped, leaving her weary with herself and with him. She was over Wyatt. It had been eleven years. What kind of loser would still be so desperately hung up on a high school boyfriend?
“If you’ll excuse me.”
“Come with me.” Again his gaze swept the area behind her.
“No, thank you.” If she didn’t know better, she’d think he was part of the casino security team. Whatever he was looking for was none of her business. They weren’t a couple anymore. “I really need to take what’s left of my break.”
His eyes locked with hers. “Evie, please.”
A piece of her heart lurched toward him, hammering against the walls she’d built to protect herself. “I can’t,” she repeated, managing not to rub the pain in her breastbone. “If you’re only here because of me, you need to go.”
She turned on her heel and strode toward the employees-only door. As if he didn’t matter at all.
Once she was through and out of his reach, she leaned against the cool wall. She’d expected walking away from him to feel better. Instead, she wanted to curl up in a corner and cry. Or run back into his arms. Would his embrace be familiar or different? She couldn’t deny he’d changed. Grown. Matured. All those things she’d thought she’d done too.
The door swung open as one of her coworkers walked through and she peeked out, startled to see Wyatt still standing there. Almost as if he was keeping watch or waiting for her.
Absurd. He’d leave. He’d go back to the tables. When it came to leaving her behind, Wyatt was a pro.
Chapter Two
Wyatt waited by the door after Evie slipped away from him. His fingers twitched, recalling the silk of her long auburn hair. She’d worn it down tonight, the glossy waves brushing her shoulders. The sight tempted him. He couldn’t leave her alone, though she clearly wanted him out of the casino and her life, relegated to some dusty old box in the corner of her mind where she never had to look at him again.
He couldn’t blame her. Being gone for eleven years, he hadn’t expected to run into anyone who would recognize him, especially not in a casino. Based on the timing of this job, he thought he might get in and out of Deadwood without bumping into Evie at all.
No such luck.
What really stung was discovering the soul-deep attraction and affection that had burned so brightly when they were teenagers was all one-sided now. When she spoke to him, she might as well be talking to any other gambler. Her beautiful gray eyes, once so familiar, hadn’t so much as flickered with the old warmth or passion she’d once shared so openly with him.
He folded his arms over his chest, thinking about how he might crack through her veneer of professional interest and flat smile. Where was his Evie? The woman still haunted his memories and dreams all these years later. At eighteen he’d left everything in Deadwood behind only to discover she was as essential as oxygen to him.
He never should have agreed to come back.
If he could rewind and do things differently, he never would’ve hurt her. He’d had to leave Deadwood, but he could’ve done it with more care for her. She’d been his only salvation in those unbearable last few months of high school. The two of them had been inseparable, spending hours with homework or working, constantly brainstorming fresh ideas for her family business, what they would change, when and how it would grow into a regional destination.
As far as he could tell during the prep for this trip, Cottonwood Adventures offered pretty much the same tours and events they’d offe
red when he’d left. He knew it had nothing to do with him, but he couldn’t help wondering why Evie bailed on her ideas for growth.
At this rate, he’d never know. Contrary to her assessment, he’d never stopped caring for her or her happiness. Maybe he didn’t have the right to demonstrate that concern, but he wouldn’t let her aggravation with his choices interfere with his purpose tonight.
He couldn’t leave. Not until she made it home safely tonight and promised to stay away from the casino for the next few days.
Better if he could convince her to quit and never come back. She shouldn’t be here at all. Well, maybe as a customer, but never as an employee. When he spotted her dealing poker on his second walk-through of the casino for his current assignment, his stomach had cramped so hard he’d nearly doubled over. Had she forgotten what happened when gambling and the pursuit of a jackpot got the best of someone?
Knowing what was coming, the trouble that had nothing to do with the winter storm, he hadn’t seen another option except to sit down and play at her table. Unfortunately, her relief arrived before he’d found the right way to warn her off.
In his pocket, his phone buzzed again and he glanced toward the slot machines, looking for the FBI agent posing as a casino guest while watching his back. Agent Noelle Pickering, second in command on her team of four, had been the first to reach out to him about this assignment. She wore an emerald sweater and black slacks, her short blond hair gleaming under the lights. At the moment, her phone was at her ear.
“What are you up to?” she asked. “We aren’t covering your poker losses.”
“Didn’t ask you to,” he said. Besides he was modestly ahead at the moment. “Saw an old friend,” he said. It wasn’t like his ties to Evie were a secret.
“You might want to delay the old flame hookup routine until this is over,” Pickering said.
“Right.” He should’ve expected the FBI had done as much homework on him as they had on their target.
“We picked up another call on the phone tap. Evelyn Cotton might be part of the Cordell crew.” He barely suppressed the automatic rejection of the absurd suggestion. If Cordell had contacted Evie it wasn’t because she was interested in helping him steal a fortune in diamonds.
