Queen of Hearts (Gambling on Love Series Book 4)

by M Andrews

  “Hunter, what are you doing here?” she says, running up to me and giving me a big hug.

  “Your mom had an emergency at work and Aunt Lucky had to work, so I thought you’d like to come hangout with me at the gallery.”

  “Cool, I like hanging out at your place.” Bailey takes my hand and we start our walk down the street to my car.

  “You do?” I ask.

  “Yeah, you let me roller skate inside. Mom never lets me do that at our house.” She looks up at me with a goofy grin. I smile to myself at the fact that Bailey is comfortable with me and likes being at my place. Getting Lucy to see how perfect we are together is important, if I don’t get along with Bailey, there is no chance for me and Lucy. Making Bailey happy is doubly important.

  “Well then roller skating it is.”

  “Yes.” Bailey cheers.

  ****

  An hour into inventory and I am ready to call it a day. Bailey should be done with her homework by now. I toss my notebook on the table and head upstairs. Bailey is sprawled out on the couch with her nose in a book. “Harry Potter and the Deathly Hollows, that is one of my favorites,” I say, slumping down on the couch next to her.

  Bailey slowly brings her book down. “You read Harry Potter?” Her mouth drops in shock.

  “I’m an original Potter Head,” I say confidently. I was seventeen when the first book came out. I bought a copy, fully intending to give it to Brooke, but I ended up keeping it for myself after I read the first couple chapters. I felt a connection to those books, and Harry, having lost a parent of my own. I stood in line outside bookstores at midnight to get the books on release day. I read them to Brooke every night, even when she was a teenager. These books are a huge part of my life. “I even have first editions of all the books.”

  “That is so cool. Can I see them?” she asks with the biggest grin on her face.

  “Of course, come on.” Bailey follows me over to the bookshelves. I reach up to one of the top shelves and pull down each book one by one handing them to Bailey. She studies each book, running her fingers over the font on each cover.

  “These are amazing.” She hands the last book back to me. “What is your house?”

  “I’m a Hufflepuff guy,” I reply and set the books back on the shelf.

  “Hufflepuff.” She giggles. “Are you being serious?”

  “I’m just kidding. I’m Gryffindor all the way,” I say proudly.

  “Me too. Hermione is my favorite character. She’s always saving Harry and Ron.”

  “She’s smart and strong just like you. Harry Potter is my favorite. He reminds me a little of me when I was younger. I lost my mom too.”

  “My mom told me that you and Aunt Brooke lost your mom. I don’t remember my dad. My mom tells me stories about him. I didn’t get to know him, but I still miss him sometimes. Do you miss your mom?”

  “I miss her all the time. There are days when I want to call her and tell her about the good things that are happening in my life, like meeting you and your mom and moving here. I think in some way she still knows, and there are days when I feel like she is here with me. Your dad might be gone, but I think he is still watching over you and your mom. Making sure you both are happy.”

  “I think so too. Maybe he sent you to my mom to make her happy,” she says.

  “And why do you think that?” I ask, extremely curious about her answer.

  “Because she has been happier than I have ever seen her.” Lucy isn’t the only one who has been feeling happier the past few weeks. Every morning I have woken up with a smile on my face, and I count down the minutes until I get to see Lucy again. There might be a little awkwardness from the night in the coffee shop, but I won’t let that get in the way of making Lucy mine.

  “I think she likes you, like a lot,” she admits. Now I’m even more happy that I volunteered to watch Bailey today.

  “I hope so, because I really like your mom too.”

  “Yeah, I could tell. You look at her like my dad did in all the pictures of them together. Can I tell you a secret?” She has another secret to share. I thought her blowing her mom’s cover was a big enough secret.

  “Of course. I promise I won’t say anything,” I say, crossing my heart.

  “I hope you and my mom keep liking each other, because I want to keep hanging out with you, cause I like you, too.”

  I don’t cry very often, but Bailey saying she likes me is bringing tears to my eyes. I drop down to my knees and pull Bailey into a hug. “I like you too, Bailey, and I promise you I will continue to make you and your mom happy.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Lucy

  “What part of going on a date with Hunter is you keeping your promise to stay away from him?” Lucky yells from my bedroom.

  “It’s not a date, Lucky. It’s just a dinner to thank me for helping him with his gallery opening.” Or at least that is the lie that I’m telling myself to keep from throwing up in my closet right now. After I picked up Bailey from Hunter’s, he asked if he could treat me to dinner as a thank you for all my help. I told him I would only do it as long as we work on the final layout for each artists section in the gallery. This way it would technically stay within the lines of business. and there would also be no wine to make me forget that Hunter is off limits.

  “You and I both know that is a lie.” Lucky stops in the doorway of my closet. Her brow furrows and her lips curl up in disgust. “What the hell are you wearing, Grandma Lucy?”

  I look down at my green floral dress and black leggings, wondering what she finds so appalling about my outfit. “What is wrong with this, I wear this all the time,” I say, sliding on my cardigan.

  “It’s fine for the PTA or the retirement home. Do you own anything that shows off some skin?” Lucky walks past me and starts riffling through the racks of clothes hanging along the back wall.

  “Lucky, I’m a mom. I can’t be wearing clothes with my tits hanging out anymore.” I ignore what she is doing and continue to pick out my shoes.

  “You’re a mom, you’re not dead. I’m just saying, you should wear something that shows off that gorgeous bod of yours.”

  “What I’m wearing is just fine, Lucky.” I slip on my green ballet flats and try to hide the eye roll.

  “At least take off the leggings. Give Hunter easy access for some under the table action.” She comes up behind me and flips up my skirt. I swat her hands away and scoot out of reach.

  “Lucky, for the last time, nothing is going to happen between me and Hunter. Now come on, I have to go.” I grab my bag and start for the door. Lucky jumps in front of me, blocking the doorway to my bedroom. “Lucky, what the fuck, I’m going to be late.”

  “I will let you leave dressed in my grandmother’s curtains only if you promise I can pick what you wear for the studio opening.”

  I let out an annoyed sigh and shake my head. “If I agree, will you stop teasing me about getting into Hunter’s pants?” I gotta get something out of this too. I know I’m going to hate whatever dress she picks out.

  Lucky taps her fingertips along her chin, pretending to think it over. “I can live with those terms.” She steps out of my way. “Have a nice business dinner.” She didn’t put up much of a fight, which means I’m in big trouble with this dress.

  ****

  “This is not exactly the dinner I was thinking of treating you to, Lucy.”

  I peak over my shoulder at Hunter as he walks through the door of his studio with bags of food in his hands. “The opening is in a few days and we have a lot of work to do.” Hunter said this whole dinner thing was just his way of saying thank for all my help, but it still felt like too much of a date, and I didn’t want that, so I suggested we eat while we work. It’s two people eating some food and hanging artwork, nothing romantic about that at all.

  “I wanted to take you to a nice restaurant. Eating out of to-go containers wasn’t how I imagined this night going,” he says, setting the bags on the table next to all the
artwork we still have to install.

  “Are you kidding, I get a private dinner in one of the hottest new art studios in Seattle. Best dinner ever,” I say, twirling around the middle of the floor. All our hard work has paid off, this place looks amazing.

  “You are something else, Ms. Bishop.” He chuckles and tosses me my double bacon cheeseburger.

  “I’m a limited edition.” I smile and hop up on the table.

  “That is an understatement.” He winks, popping a French fry in his mouth. “Do you really think I’ve got something here?” he asks.

  “Hunter, this gallery is incredible. You have an amazing eye and it’s going to pay off,” I assure him. I’ve been inside every art gallery in Seattle and none of them compare to what Hunter has here. He has a unique style that has been cultivated from his years of traveling all over the world. He has nothing to worry about.

  “I couldn’t have pulled this off without all your help.” Hunter parks his massive frame next to me on the table.

  “It was a lot fun and a nice break from serving coffee.” Hunter’s shoulder brushes against me as he takes a bite of his burger, and my body whimpers for more.

  “We make a great team, and I’m going to miss hanging out with you every day.”

  “I am too, but you are going to be busy with the gallery and having gorgeous art students coming in here to fawn all over your greatness, you’ll barely notice I’m gone.” It makes me a little sad that I won’t get to see him on a daily basis anymore. This has been some of the most fun I’ve had in years.

  “None of those girls have anything on you, Bishop.”

  I can’t hide my eye roll from his statement.

  “You still don’t believe that I think you are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

  I let out a loud laugh. “Hunter, seriously? Brooke has shown me pictures from all your travels, I have seen the women you are surrounded by, and they are thin and beautiful. With perfect hair and perky boobs. Not one of them had an inch of cellulite anywhere on their bodies. You expect me to believe the crap you are saying right now. Please.” I roll my eyes again.

  “I think I have a way to prove it to you,” he challenges.

  “Oh, you do, huh? What do you have in mind?”

  “Let me photograph you,” he offers.

  “Hell no, not in a million years would I let you do that.” Photograph me, is he out of his freaking mind. I don’t even like getting my picture taken for my driver’s license.

  “Come on Lucy, let me just take a few pictures, and if you don’t like them I can delete them. Easy as that.”

  “I don’t know, Hunter.” I still don’t feel comfortable with this.

  “Give me a chance to show you how I see you.”

  “I’m going to regret this, but okay.” I just made a huge mistake.

  Chapter Twelve

  Hunter

  Okay was all I needed to hear. I dropped my burger on the table and took hold of Lucy’s hand and pulled her off the table.

  “Hunter, what the hell, I haven’t even finished eating yet.” Lucy tries to pull away, but I grip her hand harder and guide her through the studio to the stairs leading up to my loft. I can’t take the chance of Lucy changing her mind. I’m going to show her how truly beautiful she really is if it’s the last thing I do.

  “Hunter, I can’t do this right now. I don’t have any makeup on and my hair is a mess,” she protests. Her hand is shaking in mine. She’s anxious and trying to get out of this.

  Once in my apartment, I keep hold of her hand. “You look perfect, but I think we need something to help calm your nerves,” I suggest and lead her over to the kitchen. “How about a glass of wine?”

  “I’ll take the whole bottle.” A nervous squeak escapes her throat.

  “Don’t be nervous. This is going to be fun.” I bring her hand up to my lips and place a soft kiss to the back of her hand. Her chest falls with the sigh she breaths, and her skin turns a delicate shade of pink. Part of me wants to strip her out of her clothes and see how far the pink goes. I reluctantly release her hand, grab a bottle of red wine and a glass from the cabinet. Lucy watches me pour the crimson liquid into the glass. “I’m going to need a holiday pour,” she says.

  “What’s a holiday pour?” I ask.

  “All the way to the rim.” She taps her finger on the rim of the glass, coaxing me to keep pouring.

  I chuckle to myself and do as the lady wants, topping the glass off. Lucy smiles with approval and bends over and slurps up some of the wine before picking up the glass to down half the glass in one giant gulp. I am officially impressed. “Feeling better now?”

  “A little bit.” She brings the glass back to her lips and takes a smaller sip this time. A small hiccup follows. Even her hiccups are cute. “Where do you want me?” she asks.

  “It will take me a minute to set up my lights, so why don’t you enjoy your wine and try and relax.”

  “I don’t know about relaxing, but I will enjoy this wine.” She takes the bottle from my hand and strides over to the doors leading out to the balcony.

  While she is distracted, I sneak off to grab my camera. When I return, Lucy is out on the balcony. One hand is resting on the railing while the other keeps her wine close. Her head is back, eyes closed, with the moonlight illuminating her in the dark sky. She looks peaceful and beautiful. I raise my camera up and set her in my sights. Just as a slight breeze blows her hair back, I snap a picture. I take advantage of the fact that she is distracted to take a couple more. Her eyes slowly open and a slight smile forms across her lips and snap goes the shutter again. This time she hears me and snaps her head in my direction.

  “You’re starting now? I thought you were setting up lights that would make me look better.” She grabs the bottle of wine off the table behind her and refills her glass. The moment she brings the glass up to her lips I take another picture. “Seriously, Hunter.” She covers her face with her hand, but that doesn’t stop me from continuing to snap away. Her sticking her tongue out in the final picture only proves how utterly adorable she is.

  “Every one of these pictures is gorgeous,” I say, bringing up the photos on the screen of my camera. I kneel down in front of her and flip through each picture. “This is how I see you. No photo shop, no fake lighting, just natural beauty.”

  Lucy shakes her head still not convinced of how absolutely breathtaking she is. “I think you’re crazy. You can take all the pictures you want, and it’s still not going to convince me.” She takes another sip of her wine.

  “You gave me permission to take as many pictures as I want, well then, let’s get started.” I slip the strap of my camera around my neck, take Lucy’s hand, and lead her back inside. This may take all night, but she is not leaving until she says she likes one damn picture of herself.

  “Hunter, I didn’t mean you could actually take as many pictures as you wanted,” she protests.

  “You said it, and there is no going back now,” I say to her from over my shoulder. I come to a stop in front of the white backdrop hanging along the wall in what should be the dining space. I converted this space into my photography studio after I moved in. I’m a single guy, I have no use for a formal dining room. If I’m not eating at my sister’s place, I’m eating my meals in the kitchen over the sink. Sounds sad and pathetic, but at least my kitchen stays clean. “Don’t move,” I instruct Lucy before I turn to set up the lights.

  “Can I ask you something?” I ask.

  “You can ask me anything,” Lucy replies.

  “Have you always hated getting your picture taken? At Brooke’s wedding you didn’t seem to mind me taking your picture.” Half the time she even posed for me.

  Lucy sets her glass of wine down on the floor and removes her sweater, revealing her hourglass figure. “I was hammered that night, so nothing bothered me.” She giggles. “As a kid I didn’t like getting my picture taken. I didn’t feel comfortable in front of the camera. I have these big eyes and a g
oofy little nose.” She runs the tip of her finger down the bridge of her nose.

  “In my line of work, I’ve seen every shape nose, eye, smile. You name it, I’ve seen it.” I cross the floor to where Lucy is standing and tuck the stray strands of hair behind her ear. “But it was the cute little noses like this one,” my finger glides down her nose, “and big bright beautiful eyes like yours that I find most intriguing.” Lucy’s eyes fall closed, and her cheeks turn a soft shade of pink. I lean in and place a gentle kiss on each of her closed eyes.

  “Hunter, what are you doing?” Her eyes open as she takes a few steps back. With each step she takes back, I take a step forward until I have her backed against the wall.

  “You have no idea how absolutely beautiful you are, do you?” My hand trails down her cheek and along her neck, causing little goose bumps to rise across her skin.

  “I know I’m cute, but beautiful, no,” she replies, trying to wiggle out of the hold I have on her, but I keep her locked between me and the wall.

  “Cute, no Lucy, you’re breathtaking. You take my breath away every time you enter the room.” I glide my thumb along her lower lip. It’s so soft and full, and I need a little taste. Her chest rises and falls as her breathing deepens. The flush from her cheeks spreads across her exposed skin. Her cheek presses into my hand. She is hungry for my touch.

  “You are insane, Hunter McCoy. The last time I checked, cellulite and stretch marks weren’t turning heads or making dicks hard.” She nervously laughs.

  I reach a hand behind her back and slide the zipper down.

  “Hunter, we can’t do this,” she protests.

  “We can do whatever we want,” I whisper against her lips, as I slide the fabric down her arms.

  “But what about Brooke, she might be pregnant, but she will kick both of our asses if she finds out we slept together.”

  “Then we will have to make sure she never finds out.”