Maybe Yes: Maybe, Definitely Book 1

by Ella Miles

  “What do you want to drink, Kinsley?”

  I look up to see Killian staring at me with a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. It’s weird to hear my name fall from his lips. I can’t recall him using it before, but I realize what he’s doing. He’s giving me exactly what I said I wanted. He’s not going to help me, not unless I beg. And I’m not above begging right now if he will help me.

  I plead with my eyes for him to just order a drink for us. I pucker my lip, like Scarlett taught me.

  He rolls his eyes at my look and sits up straighter, turning his attention to the waitress.

  “I’ll have a Miller Lite. Bring her a Blue Moon. We will have your mountain onion ring appetizer with extra sauce. And we both want your special burger, hold the onions.”

  Killian takes the menu from me and hands it to the lady, who rushes off, glad to finally be done with us.

  “You really can’t make a quick decision.”

  “I can.” I take a deep breath, ready to reveal something embarrassing. “I just haven’t had a lot of experience with drinking. I’ve only drunk a handful of times in my life.”

  “Well, that explains a lot.”

  “You didn’t have to order my dinner for me though.”

  “I was afraid if you took any longer, the waitress would end up spitting in our food. She’s obviously swamped tonight, and you were taking half an hour just to order your drink. What did you want? I’ll make sure she changes the order.”

  I sigh. “I was going to order exactly what you ordered me.” My cheeks flush at the admission that he was right—again.

  Killian smiles and shakes his head.

  “So, what made you choose this place? I’m guessing you don’t come here often. Doesn’t seem like it has the healthiest of menus.”

  “Just wanted to get you the best burger in Vegas after I almost denied you one the other day.”

  You denied me more than just a burger, I think as I bite my lip.

  The beers and appetizer are thrust onto the table. I take a sip of the beer. It’s definitely not the Chateau Margaux wine that Killian ordered me before, but it’s drinkable. I take an onion ring off the tower before me.

  “Tell me something about yourself. You might be my future husband one day, if we don’t figure a way out of this mess. I might as well know more about you.”

  He shakes his head. “I’ve already figured a way out of this. You have yet to agree to it. But, okay, I’ll play. What do you want to know?”

  I take a bite as I contemplate what I want to know most. I really want to know what it would be like to be fucked by him. But I can’t go there. I fidget with the wrapper on the silverware, trying to think of a tame question.

  “Where did you go to college?”

  “Yale.”

  “Really?”

  “No,” he says, laughing. “I went to Harvard. I majored in business and then started law school there, but I didn’t finish. Instead, Felton Corporation snatched me up, and I’ve been working here ever since.”

  “Did you grow up in Vegas?”

  “Yes.”

  Hmm, that surprises me.

  “What about you? Why Yale? Why theater?”

  I take a long sip of my beer. I don’t want to answer that. Instead, I try his trick. “What part of Vegas?”

  “No, it’s your turn. I answered your question. Now, you answer mine. That’s how the game works.”

  “This isn’t a game.”

  “Whatever, I’m not answering any more questions until you answer me. Why Yale? Why theater?”

  I take another sip of my beer, stalling for as long as I can until I can’t anymore. His stare pierces through me, forcing me to let go of whatever I’m hiding.

  “My father. He chose Yale for me. He chose the theater major. I haven’t chosen anything that’s important in my life. Nothing of this life is mine.”

  “Why?”

  I pause for just a second before I answer, “Because I loved him and could never disappoint him. Because family comes before everything.”

  There’s a long pause as he lets my words sink in. He finally has the tiniest understanding of what my life is really like. Although if he was around my dad as much as he said, he already knew. He just wanted to hear it from me.

  “I’m sorry.”

  I quizzically look at him.

  “I’m sorry your life has never been your own.”

  I shrug as I keep back tears threatening to fall. “It’s okay. It’s been a good life.”

  His eyes are intense, as intense as I think I’ve ever seen them, as he says the next words, “But it’s not your life. That’s what I’m trying to give you—a chance to find your own life.”

  “What makes you think I want that?” I let my eyes drift to my lap as I tuck a fallen curl behind my ear.

  “Because I do.”

  My eyes immediately go back to his. I don’t know if he meant he wants that for me or he wants that for himself. But I feel like he just poured his heart out to me while sitting in a grungy diner.

  “Two specials,” our waitress snaps as she thrusts two plates of the biggest burgers I have ever seen in front of us.

  When I glance back up at Killian, the moment is gone. It’s passed. It doesn’t keep me from wondering what Killian is hiding as I dig into my burger.

  11

  “I can’t believe you ate that entire thing,” Killian says while knocking on a hotel door.

  “I was hungry, and that was delicious. I can’t believe you didn’t eat the entire thing.”

  He scrunches his face in disgust. “It was a pile of grease. We will probably both be sick tomorrow because of it.”

  I laugh. He’s way too serious to relax. I bet he eats every nutrient his body needs and nothing more.

  “What are we doing here?” I ask.

  But I’m too late. The door opens, and a man slaps Killian on the back.

  “Kill, you made it!” The man glances to me and then back to Killian. “Who is this?” he asks Killian while staring at me.

  “This is my date for tonight, Kinsley.”

  I notice Killian intentionally leaves off my last name.

  I appreciate it. Enough people in this town know my name I don’t want to be stereotyped before this person even gets to know me.

  “Kinsley, this is Grant Brampton, my best friend and one of the best poker players west of the Mississippi.”

  Grant tips his hat as Killian talks, making me giggle. He takes my hand and softly kisses it, eyeing Killian. I laugh harder as I notice Killian glaring at Grant. He knows exactly what he is doing—pissing Killian off. I like Grant already.

  “Come in. The game is about to start,” Grant says.

  I follow Killian into the hotel room, except this room has been turned into a makeshift poker room. There is a large circular table in the center with decks of cards and chips stacked perfectly on one end. The kitchen has been turned into a mini bar. I notice three other men standing around with drinks in their hands.

  “Everyone, this is Kinsley,” Killian says.

  Everyone says, “Hey,” back with obvious curious stares as to why Killian has brought a date to a boys’ night.

  I’m curious about that myself. My hands are shaking slightly. I’m beginning to feel more confident around Killian, but a roomful of guys I don’t know makes me uneasy.

  “Killian, I can go home. I didn’t mean to intrude on boys’ night.”

  “Nah, they don’t care. They’ll be happy to have someone good-looking to gawk at while I take all their money. Plus, if we didn’t go out tonight, I’m not sure of the next night I’m available to go out.”

  My heart sinks a little at his words. There’s not going to be a second date. Or if there is, it’s going to be a long time from now.

  “This is Stephen Mann. He’s my brother-in-law.”

  I shake Stephen’s hand. I didn’t know Killian had a sister.

  “And that’s Marvin and Benny. They both s
uck at poker.”

  Marvin throws popcorn at Killian. Killian runs over and pretends to tackle Marvin. It’s strange, seeing Killian like this—relaxed and playful. I know he’s called me a walking contradiction, but I’m beginning to see him the same way. He’s serious and stern, one minute, and then playful and joking, the next.

  “All right, settle, you two,” Grant says. “It’s time for you to lose some money.” He pulls up another seat. “You can sit here,” he says to me, holding on to the chair he just pulled up to the table.

  “Thanks,” I say, smiling, as I take a seat. I fold my hands in my lap to keep them from shaking.

  Grant takes a seat on my left as Killian takes a seat on my right. All of the other men take their seats in the remaining chairs.

  Marvin starts distributing chips to everyone in equal measure. When he gets to me, he asks, “You in?”

  I glance to Killian, but he doesn’t say anything. I notice his shoulders tense a little, but I think he would have said something if he didn’t want me to play.

  “Sure,” I say.

  “It’s a hundred dollar minimum bet. Are you sure?” Marvin says.

  I smile politely. “I’m sure.”

  “We will make Killian pay up when she loses,” Grant jokes.

  I want to tell Grant he’s wrong, that I don’t intend to lose, but I can’t. I haven’t played poker in years, and I’m a terrible liar. Father always used to say poker isn’t about bluffing or telling the truth. It is about strategy and numbers. It’s about knowing your odds. It’s that simple.

  Grant smiles at me. Marvin starts dealing out cards to everyone.

  Killian leans over to whisper in my ear, “Do you know how to play Texas Hold ’em?”

  “I know the basics. I’m sure I’ll be fine.”

  I glance at my cards and wait for my turn. I quickly calculate my outs and odds. When it gets to me, I call. I have a thirty-five percent chance of winning, and the pot odds are thirty percent.

  All the men call the initial hundred-dollar bet.

  “What do you do, Kinsley?” Grant asks me.

  I watch the initial flop. I get another nine to match my pair of nines. I want to smile, but I don’t. I try to keep my emotions as neutral as possible as I begin counting my outs and odds again.

  I answer Grant the only way I know how, “I’m a model.”

  “Oh, really?” Grant says, eyeing me. “I can see that. You definitely have the body for it.”

  Killian glares at Grant, but I can see it’s just harmless fun. And, for whatever reason, I like Grant. He seems to know how to have a good time.

  “She’s more than that. She went to Yale,” Killian says.

  I’m surprised he is defending me.

  I raise the bet on my turn, not by much though. It’s just enough to only keep the serious players in the game. Benny folds on his next turn, but everyone else stays in.

  “You’re a pro player?” I ask Grant.

  “Yep. I placed third in the World Series of Poker National Championship last year.”

  “Impressive,” I say. I watch the next card played.

  Another nine turns up, and I can’t help but smile. I turn to Killian to pretend I’m smiling at him, but anybody that’s paying me any attention would know why I’m smiling. Grant is the only one paying me much attention though, and his eyes are on my chest, not my face.

  I glance at Killian and see his face has grown dark. His eyes look like they are going to shoot lasers right through Grant.

  I place my hand on Killian’s thigh. “Relax,” I whisper to him before shocking both of us by kissing him on the cheek. It’s the most brazen I have been. I gently squeeze his leg, and I feel his muscles relax, if only a little, as I massage his thigh.

  I keep my hand there long after he has relaxed. I like feeling his strong body beneath my hand. When I chance a glance down, I see a hint of an erection growing beneath his jeans. I have more control than I realize.

  I smile. If I move my hand just an inch, I could accidentally touch it and then pretend I didn’t mean to do it.

  “Kinsley, what are you going to do?” Grant wakes me from my dream.

  I quickly remove my hand. “I call.”

  Grant calls before he says, “The trick to poker is paying attention. It’s math. It’s knowing your odds and how to read people.”

  I smile at Grant trying to give me advice. I already know his hand isn’t worth shit. His face says it all, yet he still thinks he’s won with, most likely, a pair of face cards. And looking around the table, he probably would have.

  Marvin flips his cards, showing high king, followed by Stephen with a pair of tens. Then, Killian flips over a straight, to my surprise. But it’s still not enough. Grant nods for me to flip my cards over.

  “Four of a kind,” I say to Grant.

  His smile drops as he flips over two aces, giving him three of a kind.

  “I win,” I say shyly. “I’ll try to use your advice for the next hand though.”

  Marvin pushes the chips to me while Killian chuckles softly next to me.

  “Did your father teach you how to play poker, too?” he asks in my ear so only I can hear.

  I shrug and blush, and he chuckles again.

  We play for another hour or so until the only players remaining are Killian, me, and Grant. I stay out of the conversation to my relief as the boys talk about sports and cars. I glance over at Killian. He won’t stay in the game for much longer though. He’s down to his last chips.

  “How did you two meet?” Stephen asks as he brings me another beer.

  I taste it, but it doesn’t taste as good as the one Killian ordered earlier.

  I glance nervously at Killian. I’m not ready to share our story, but I suck at lying and don’t want to lie to a member of his family.

  “We met three years ago.”

  I choke on my beer when Killian says that. God, I’ve got to stop doing that. I turn to face him, trying to decide if he’s lying or telling the truth, but Killian has the best poker face I have ever seen.

  “I was giving a speech to a business class at Yale. While I was there, I paid a visit to an old friend.” He doesn’t look at me when he says the next words, “Eli Stratford. You remember him, Grant. He was Charlie’s younger brother.”

  “Yeah, I remember Charlie. I didn’t know Eli that well though. I didn’t know you were friends,” Grant says.

  Killian shakes his head. “We weren’t really, but like I said, I presented in front of a business class, and Eli was there. He introduced himself afterward, and I agreed to meet him for lunch.

  “Anyway, we were at lunch, and the most beautiful woman I had seen came walking into the restaurant. I considered leaving Eli alone right there, so I could go after the woman, but to my surprise, she walked over to our table and kissed Eli on the lips. Then, she asked for the keys to his apartment, so she could study there instead of walking back to hers across campus. And she left. That woman was Kinsley. She recently moved back into town after graduating, and I asked her out. And here we are.”

  Killian still won’t look at me. Grant puts his arm around me, and I force a smile on my face.

  “Too bad the old man here snatched you up, but if you want to have a good time, you’ll go out with me sometime,” Grant says, winking.

  I smile. “I don’t know if I can go out with someone who loses to me in poker.”

  “I haven’t lost yet—unlike Killian who is about to get slaughtered.”

  Grant begins dealing the cards again, drawing his attention away from me. My thoughts stay on Killian though, even as the cards are dealt. I don’t remember that story. I don’t remember that happening, and it’s quite an extravagant lie just to keep Grant away from the truth—that we are basically having an arranged marriage.

  I glance at my cards. I call on my turn. I’m giving half of my attention to what Killian just said and the other half to the game at hand.

  After we have all called, Grant flop
s the first three cards.

  I quickly count my outs and then calculate my odds—fifty-five percent. It’s greater than the pot odds. I double the bet on my turn.

  Why in the hell did Killian tell that story? How did he know I was dating Eli?

  Another card is turned over. My odds increase to sixty percent.

  I look at Killian. I notice a tiny bead of sweat forming on his face. His leg is shaking under the table. He increases the bet again. He’s lying.

  But just moments ago, the only sign was him avoiding my gaze. That was the truth. Suddenly, I remember. I remember seeing a strange, hot man having lunch with Eli. I remember going back to Eli’s apartment and studying before waiting for him to walk me to my afternoon class, like he always did—except, that day, I never made it to class. When Eli got home from that lunch, we got in the worst fight we had ever been in. Eli seemed to think I was already engaged to another man. That it would never work out with us. He broke up with me that night. Killian was the one that told him I was engaged. Killian broke us up.

  “All in,” I say, pushing the chips into the middle of the table.

  I can’t stay here any longer. I don’t care about winning or losing anymore. I don’t care about flirting with Killian anymore. I just want to get out of here.

  I see the shock on Killian’s and Grant’s faces, but they both push their chips in. Grant flips the last card, and then I flip my cards over, despite it being out of turn.

  “Royal flush.” I glance right and then left when they both flip over their cards—a full house and a straight. “I win.”

  I push my chair back and get up. I walk out without a word. I can’t breathe as I run down the hallway. It feels claustrophobic, like the walls are closing around me. I won’t survive in an elevator, so I run down the stairs of the hotel building instead. I need to be moving. I need to get away from Killian.

  If it wasn’t for him, I could still be with Eli. I could have chosen my own love, my own future. Instead, Killian convinced Eli to break up with me. Instead, he chose my future for me.

  12

  The air outside is warm and just as stifling as it was inside the hotel room. I begin the long walk back to my hotel—alone. I could call a car to pick me up, but I don’t. I prefer to be alone.