by Ava Miles
Her hands fisted at her sides. “How nice for them. Mac, I’m taking Dustin to soccer practice after I hit the gym. You’re staying at the hotel tonight, right?”
Rhett pulled Mac close in a one–arm hug. “Of course, he’s staying here. We’ve got some catching up to do.”
Since he loved his sister, Mac decided to give her a boost. “Maybe we can do a family breakfast in the morning before the tourney starts. I’ll bring Rhett so he can see the new house. I’m sure Dustin would be delighted. I’ll ask Cince too. Be like old times.”
Her gaze dipped to the floor and then lifted. Only Mac knew she did that when she was upset and trying to make the best of things.
“Wonderful. I’ll get everything ready.”
“You still remember I like flapjacks in the morning, right, sweetheart?” Rhett asked in an even more pronounced Southern accent.
Her face blanched. “Funny, it’s been so long, I’d forgotten.” She all but smirked. “Have fun boys.” She turned tail and sped off.
“If I told you not to mess with my sister, would you lay off?” Mac signaled the bartender for another round.
“No.” Rhett downed his drink. “I came here to see if I could convince her to marry me.”
Mac’s glass clattered across the bar before the bartender caught it. “You what?”
Rhett crooked his finger to the bartender. When the man came closer, he appropriated the bottle. “We’re going to need something to fortify ourselves for this discussion.”
“You’re pulling my leg, right?” Mac asked. He downed the bourbon Rhett poured for him.
“No, I’m as sober as a Baptist minister in a dry county. I love her, Mac. I tried to forget her when she told me we didn’t have a future, but that didn’t work.”
No, Abbie wouldn’t see a future with Rhett. Frankly, until today, Mac had never known Rhett to fall for anyone. How funny the one woman who could break his friend turned out to be his sister.
“You haven’t seen each other in a year, have you?”
The slap on his back nearly toppled him over. “Hell, no, we haven’t been sneaking around your back this past year.”
“Just before,” he said. Even though they’d never discussed it, he would’ve had to be blind to have missed their interactions.
“Do I detect judgment in your tone, Mr. Maven? Abbie didn’t want anyone to know. Including you.” He hunched his shoulders, and for a moment, looked like one of the many guys Mac had seen lose their entire stake playing poker—broke, but even worse, defeated. “She’s ashamed of me.”
The sigh gusted out before Mac could stop it. “She has a hard time with trust after what happened with Dustin’s father.” He wished he could tell his friend the whole truth, but that was Abbie’s prerogative.
“The fucker ruined it for me,” Rhett growled. “But I won’t give up on her.”
Mac elbowed him in the gut to get his attention. “Good. It’s the only way she’ll believe you care.”
“I know I don’t appear to be the stable–raise–kids type,” Rhett all but whispered. “But for the right woman, I’ll mend my ways. So, I’m stepping back from the circuit and sticking around. I rented a cabin in these fine mountains, and I’m going to try to convince her I can be a good husband to her and stepfather to Dustin.” His head turned. “Not that I’d be trying to step into the role you’ve played with the boy since he was born. I know he’s like a son to you.”
Mac pushed his glass away when Rhett filled it again, reeling from the news. “But he’s not my son. He’s my nephew. As he gets older, it’s making all the difference in the world.” He told him about the incident with the Ferrari.
Rhett continued sipping his bourbon. Man always could drink like a fish.
“Well, some of us run wild when we’re young. We find a way to pull it together.” He rested his boot on his knee. “Of course, Abbie wouldn’t like to wait for it to run its course.”
“Honestly, neither do I.”
“I hear that.”
Mac had run wild, but only in spurts, and always in a controlled way—away from his family. Fucking things up for himself would have meant fucking things up for them. He’d never let them down.
“I want to break the cycle. Have a well adjusted kid who wants to go to college and be a doctor or something.”
Rhett whistled. “Who knew Mr. Conventional burned inside The Great Maverick? Of course, building all this…it’s your way of being well adjusted. I’ve got my own plan for that.”
Mac narrowed his eyes at his friend. “You?”
His massive shoulder hiked up. “Well…yeah.” He downed his bourbon. “I’m asking for your permission to court your sister.”
His mouth dropped, his poker face history. “You’re asking my permission? Dammit, man, that’s the last thing I ever expected you to say to me.”
Rhett gave him a flinty look.
He threw up a hand. “Fine. You have it. Just be gentle with her.”
“I wish you could tell her to be nice to me, but you best stay out of it. She wouldn’t appreciate us having this discussion.”
“No, she sure wouldn’t.”
“So you’ll give me your permission to marry her if she agrees.”
His head jerked back like he’d been punched in the face. The surprises kept coming. “Two permission requests in one day? On this, Abbie makes up her own mind.”
“Yeah, but you’re one of my best friends. I don’t want to mess things up.”
“If she agrees, you’re more than welcome to the family” he responded, needing another drink. “Dustin will be over the moon.”
Rhett slapped his back. “Good. Damn if I don’t love that kid.”
Mac had never doubted Rhett’s affection for his nephew.
It was going to be an interesting summer.
People continued to buzz across the foyer, but thankfully, the bar stayed quiet. Plus, people were standing on the sidelines, watching Rhett. They didn’t usually approach him, never sure what he’d do.
Mac surveyed the floor. He’d molded every inch of every hotel he’d built. He knew how many electric outlets were in the bar. He’d approved liquor lists, added new brands that had pulled in great reviews. Driven himself to prove he was more than a guy who was only good at cards.
Because you could always lose at cards—even though he hadn’t. Rhett was right. He had built his empire because he’d wanted to be well established.
And still something was missing.
Peggy’s face flashed in his mind. Oh shit. Was she the missing something?
God knows, he’d never chosen the easy road.
“I’ve got it bad for a woman who doesn’t think too much of me, either,” he confessed.
“Spill it. Maybe I can tell her what a great guy you are.”
“Damn, I missed you, Rhett. Even with all your Liberace ways.”
Rhett clapped a meaty hand on his shoulder. “I’ll let that one go. Is this woman anything like Abbie?”
“Actually, she’s a tougher nut to crack.”
“Then you’d best say your prayers, boy,” Rhett advised him.
Mac picked up his bourbon and slugged it back. He knew he’d need more than liquid courage to get Peggy to give them a go.
It was time to up the ante.
Chapter 14
Peggy knew all about nuts. She’d busted more than her fair share. But the man striding into her office with Maven sported a grin like some Cowboy on Crack. Was he wearing leather chaps? She checked the gun in her holster in case he was having a meltdown.
“I’m not packing, ma’am,” the man announced when they reached her desk, the fringe on his leather jacket dancing like Mexican jumping beans. “I’m Rhett Butler Blaylock.”
Peggy was sure she blinked twice. “Please tell me that’s an alias.”
The guy patted her—well slapped her actually—on the back before she could move. “Nah, my mama had a unique obsession with Gone with the Wind. ”
/> She crossed her arms, wondering who in the hell this man was and why Maven was with him. Visiting her at the sheriff’s office, no less.
“You’re kidding me,” she responded.
“Nope.” Even under his mega–gallon white cowboy hat, his eyes lit up and crinkled at the corners. “I told Mac I wanted to take a tour of the town before the tourney starts tomorrow.”
So, he was a high–roller. She suspected he might be some oil executive from Houston—someone with more money than sense.
“So you stopped at the sheriff’s office?”
“Well, yes, ma’am, there’s no finer way to judge a town than by the officers who serve it.”
His smile could have beamed sunshine.
Her eyes narrowed. “Are you punking me?”
He held up his hands, his white leather coat rippling like it had been caught in a strong breeze. “No ma’am. Mac told me how you handled the unfortunate situation with Dustin. He’s a good kid. I wanted to thank you in person.”
Even to her, this whole song and dance smelled of crap.
“May I speak with you privately, Mr. Maven?”
She hadn’t seen him since he’d come to her house the other day. She hadn’t needed to appear in court after passing her recommendations along to the city attorney. She knew Dustin had received thirty hours of community service. Frankly, she didn’t want Maven around her—ever. Last night, she’d dreamed about him biting her neck again, all vampire–like. She was sick. Truly sick.
She pulled Maven aside, trying not to inhale his spicy forest scent.
“Are you having some private joke at my expense?”
“No. I had a parking ticket to pay.” He paused.
She fought a wince.
“My friend wanted to come along and meet the woman who continues to take me down a peg. Ah, bad pun.” He leaned closer. “And makes me come back for more.”
She shoved him back a step. “That’s not funny.”
“But true. Even in that masculine uniform. Will you come watch me play poker sometime this weekend?”
Since she didn’t want to move closer to his over–the–top friend, she paced in place. “I told you. I don’t like gambling.”
He tucked his hand in his pocket and nodded. “Okay. How about letting me take you out to dinner after the holiday?”
Her breath hitched. “Are you asking me on a date?”
“Yeah.” Those stoplight green eyes burned into her with their intensity.
For a long moment, she couldn’t breathe. Her fleeting back itch flared up, and she ached for him to touch her. Then she got herself under control.
“It’s not a good idea.”
He lifted his hands and walked away. “See, I told you she wouldn’t go out with me.”
Rhett dug into his coat and pulled out a snakeskin wallet. He withdrew a crisp, one hundred dollar bill. “Damn. She’s a tough one.”
Peggy clenched her fists. “You bet on me?”
“Makes life more interesting,” Rhett drawled.
“I could arrest you both right now,” she threatened, pulling on her police belt and rocking on her heels.
Maven snorted—actually snorted. “For what?”
She narrowed her eyes. “For gambling. It’s only allowed on legitimate premises.”
Maven waved the bill in her face. “Better give this to me at the hotel, Rhett.”
“The little lady sure means business.” Rhett stuffed it into his jacket.
“It’s Deputy McBride,” she informed him.
Her insufferable nemesis crossed his arms, all nonchalant in khaki dress pants and a white polo shirt with the hotel’s logo on it. The Grand. How sporty.
“Yes, we wouldn’t want to refer to you as a woman. Peg doesn’t like to be reminded, Rhett.”
“Why the heck not? She’s cute as a button.” His boots squeaked when he leaned back.
“Cute?” She rose to her full height of five feet five inches, like she did when she tried to intimidate suspects. Since he was tall enough to play in the NBA, it fell flat.
“Sure. You’ve got a curvy figure, even in that get–up. Nice, thick hair. Your eyes would be right sparkly if you’d smile more and use some mascara.”
“I cannot believe you are talking about my…assets. Get out of my office!” She stalked behind her desk and sat down. “I have work to do.”
Rhett strolled over. “Just a minute, now. I only came with Mac here to give you a way out of having Dustin do your yard work, with Mac as his chaperone.”
She stopped ruffling through a stack of parking tickets and handed Maven’s copy to him.
He scowled.
She smiled her first genuine one of the day. “You did?” It was music to her ears.
The cowboy scratched his stubble. “I heard you weren’t happy with the arrangement. I can understand that. Teenage boys are a pain in the…posterior, as my mama always says. I know. I used to be one. And Mac can be…Mac.”
Something wasn’t right here, but when she studied him, all she saw was eagerness and sympathy. “You’re telling me you understand how I feel?”
“Sure do. The kid’s having a rough time with the move. And you don’t want this guy around.”
Mac narrowed his eyes when Rhett jerked his thumb at him.
“That’s why I told Mac he should give you a way out. I came along as a neutral party.”
He rested a hip on her desk. She decided not to kick him off if he was going to help her.
“Okay, what do you have in mind?”
The cards he pulled out had her sitting up straighter in her chair. “No way!”
“Now, listen here. It’s one round of blackjack. I’m the dealer, so even if Mac wanted to cheat, he couldn’t—not that he would. The man is honest as the day is long. It’s a simple matter. If you win, Mac goes away.” He coughed. “And Dustin too, of course.” A blur of card suits flashed through his hands as he shuffled.
“And if he wins?”
Rhett looked over his shoulder at Mac, who was watching them quietly from the doorway. Peggy couldn’t tell a single thing from his face or posture. The men held eye contact, like two adversaries trying to give the impression of power.
“A meal together,” Maven uttered in a velvety voice, finally looking at her.
Her solar plexus tightened. “You won’t come by the house?” Of course, she meant Dustin.
Rhett started laughing, so she finally nudged him off her desk. She pushed out of her chair, realizing she was about to break a rule. Was she really willing to gamble for the first time to remove him from her life?
The shuffling stopped. “Blackjack is the easiest game to win.”
He was right. It wasn’t real gambling. It involved two or three cards and lasted a minute. If she lost, it was only a meal, right? Plus, a meal together didn’t mean they had to be alone. And if she won, she’d use that leverage to sever any connection between them. Even if he won, she’d outfox him. He didn’t realize how devious she could be. She’d pick up three happy meals at McDonald’s for them and include Keith. It wasn’t like it had to be romantic. She smiled. This was an answer to her prayers.
“Fine. Get it over with and then get out.”
Rhett turned around like a semi with a wide load, hands outstretched. “Wonderful. Any woman who can face perps down with a gun can play to win.” He shuffled. “So, I’ll deal you two cards. You want to come close to the number twenty–one, but not go over. You can have a third card if needed.”
“I know how to play it,” she steamed. “It’s like the most common game out there. An idiot can play.”
“Must be why I love it so much,” Rhett mused. “Can I clear a spot to deal?”
She moved a stack, certain he’d throw her papers around if he had the chance. The man clearly had no respect for order.
“I’m going to deal your cards facedown. More interesting that way. Mac, are you gonna come over here and play?”
Maven strolled forward
with his hands in his pockets. He took out a yellow disc.
“What’s that?” she asked.
“My lucky piece. I always rub it before a game.”
She rolled her eyes. “Luck is a bunch of hooey.”
Rhett chortled. “You don’t believe in luck either? Sweetheart, there’s a lot I could teach you. How about joining me for dinner tonight?”
“In your dreams,” she scoffed.
His laughter erupted again in big barking guffaws. The other officers were probably wondering what in the hell was going on in her office. She had a known gambler and this Cowboy on Crack in her office behind closed doors. They probably thought she’d gotten a concussion without reporting it.
“Well, that rightly puts me in my place. You’re smart to refuse me. I wouldn’t be able to stop myself from trying to talk you out of your uniform.”
“Excuse me?”
“That getup you’re wearing is one of my favorite acts in Vegas. Something about the uniform and the handcuffs.”
Her eye twitched. “Would you please deal the cards?”
“Sure thing, ma’am. I meant no disrespect.” He quieted and dealt two cards to each of them.
Maven came around her desk and stood next to her. He was too close, but since she needed to pick up her cards, she couldn’t step away. Just inches apart, she could feel his body heat and his pine scent filled her nostrils. Her gaze fell to his hands. The woman inside remembered how they felt rushing over her skin—caressing, squeezing, tantalizing. She tried to take a deep breath without being too obvious about it. He turned his head. The corners of his mouth tipped up like he knew exactly what she was thinking. She frowned. His smile spread wider.
“Okay, now look at your cards. Let me know if you need a hit or want to stay.”
Peggy grabbed them and then stepped to the other side of her desk. She wouldn’t put it past Maven to cheat. She had a queen of hearts and an eight of spades. Eighteen. She wanted to dance in place.
“I’m good,” she replied.
“Sounds like the lady is happy with her hand,” Rhett mused, hands resting on his lapels. “Mac?”
He tucked his cards against his chest and smiled at her. Simply smiled. Like the cat who knows he’s about to get the cream. “Hit.” He took the card Rhett handed him. Looked up and met her gaze. “Ready to lay your cards down?”
