by Ava Miles
Abbie’s back went ram–rod straight. “How did you—”
The kid’s eyes rolled. “I’m not blind. And I can top that. You’ve always had a thing for him, too. When are you going to admit it to the rest of the world?”
Mac shifted his weight, watching Abbie’s facial muscles tense in shock and then distress. So the kid knew and was giving his permission. Well, well.
“I have some duties to attend to. Mac, you’ll want to check out today’s stats.” She firmed her shoulders and headed off.
His nephew’s dopey grin said it all. “No one gets under her skin like Rhett does.”
Mac studied Dustin. To his knowledge, no one had talked to him about Rhett’s intentions. Maybe it was time to feel him out.
“Sounds like you’d be okay with them getting together,” he said.
His nephew’s grin could have powered the hotel, so unlike his usual sulky smirk. “I love Uncle Rhett! Mom needs to have more fun. Rhett’s the kind of guy you can’t help but have fun with.”
So true. They’d had their share of fun together. “Your mom needs more than fun, though.”
His nephew shrugged. “She’s too serious most of the time. I don’t want her to end up alone. I’ll be leaving for college in two years. What’s she going to do then?”
His diaphragm clenched. Two years? Where had the time gone? “Probably what I’ll do. Go crazy without you.” What the hell was he going to do? This horrible image of him and Abbie living together and growing old together like in some terrible old Gothic movie surfaced in his mind. That was so not happening.
Dustin’s sulk returned. “Yeah, right.”
Mac pulled him in for a one–arm grab. “You doubting my word?”
Dustin studied the floor.
“So, what did you see today?” he asked to distract him.
The kid’s eyes widened for a fraction of a second. Then he started to talk. He had serious observation skills when it came to poker. He might be a natural someday. Mac wasn’t sure how he felt about that. Abbie hated the idea, but Mac knew one thing.
Everyone had to follow his or her own path.
He put his arm around Dustin and listened to his analysis as they walked to their family suite, enjoying the momentary closeness.
Chapter 17
Peggy eyed the shadows of Jill’s house as she headed up the drive for their 4th of July BBQ. After the moose incident, she wasn’t going to be caught off guard. Keith squeezed her hand harder than usual after they left the car. The fact that he was holding her hand at all indicated he hadn’t forgotten either.
Mac had told Jill to take the afternoon off while they were playing poker, and instead of resting, she’d talked Brian into throwing a last–minute BBQ at their place. Brian had complained about the lack of prep time, but he’d eventually given in. Jill sure knew how to get what she wanted.
Meredith opened the door after Peggy knocked. “Hi!” she cried. And proceeded to pepper Keith’s face with kisses. He giggled, but took it like a pro.
When her sister–in–law straightened, Peggy gave her the evil eye. “Don’t even think about it.”
“How about a simple hug?” Meredith asked, holding up her hands.
An eye–roll seemed to be the only appropriate response.
Meredith gave her a light squeeze. “See, that didn’t hurt.”
“Hey there!” came a booming voice from behind Peggy, and then Tanner grabbed her up, lifting her off the floor.
Her feet dangled. It was weird to be held like a kid. “Put me down, Tanner.”
“Oh, you’re such a spoil sport.”
“And you have become seriously weird since getting hitched,” she replied.
“I know,” he said as he set her down, plucking Keith off the ground as a replacement. “Happy Independence Day, kiddo.”
He grabbed Tanner’s shoulders. “You, too! Can I shoot off firecrackers later?”
Tanner shook his head. “They’ve been banned this year because of the drought.”
Keith’s face fell.
“But we’ll think of something.”
They grabbed each other’s hands and headed off.
Jill bounded forward, looking like one of those cute hippos in that Fantasia movie Keith liked to watch. Peggy realized it probably wasn’t something she should tell a pregnant woman.
“Hi!” She grabbed her, pressing her bump into Peggy’s belly.
“Don’t squash the kids,” Peggy warned.
“Can’t. My belly is rock hard.” And proceeded to grab Peggy’s hand and place it on her bump.
She yanked it back. Touching another woman’s stomach was…well, weird. “Look, I had one, so I know the drill. Don’t need to be feeling yours.”
Jill snickered. “Fine. Be that way. Let’s eat.”
Peggy eyed the time. “Now?”
“Yep. When I found out Mac’s playing in the final round, I told everyone we have to go up and watch him. Beats sitting around.”
Her stomach burned. She’d been planning on a quiet night of eating in the backyard and watching perps shoot off fireworks in disregard of the burn ban.
“I’ll pass.”
Jill’s red curls swung as she bobbed her head. “You’ve gotta come, Peg! They’re playing for over two million dollars.”
“Shut the front door.”
“Yeah, and that’s just first prize! Can you imagine? Seriously, you’ve never seen anything like this. Mac’s ridiculous. He plays like something out of a movie. You’ll see him in a whole new light.”
Her knee jerk reaction was to stay firm, but then she thought it through. Maybe seeing him like that—gambling—would put out the flames. She’d be disgusted, right?
“Okay, if everyone else is going,” she nodded, secretly hoping she was right. “But I draw the line at Keith.”
Jill clapped her hands. “I’m sure we can find someone to watch him.”
Peggy followed Jill out to the feast in the backyard. Her mouth watered at the smell of roasted meat. Everyone found a spot at the ginormous red–and–white checkered table showcasing an explosion of sunflowers. Brian had outdone himself again, smoking a whole brisket and baby–back ribs. She wasn’t sure what was in the barbeque sauce, but it packed a punch and made her dunk her meat in a second time.
Arthur told Keith stories about past 4th of July holidays when Jill and Meredith were little, and their parents chimed in to add details. Keith sat perched on Tanner’s knee, nodding with wide eyes, adoring the attention. She caught Tanner’s eyes a few times. His grin said it all. Yes, they had a family. While it still made her feel weird sometimes, she was glad her favorite men were happy.
Jill’s mom volunteered to take Keith for ice cream so that everyone else could watch the poker tournament. Peggy wavered, worrying about the imposition.
“How long are we talking here?” she asked Jill.
“No more than a couple of hours. I had Abbie text me. They’re down to four players from the final nine—Mac, Rhett, Cince, and this kid named Lance. They’re shooting fireworks off after the tourney’s over.”
She frowned. “How’d Maven manage that?”
“He presented the plans to the city council and received special permission,” Arthur responded. “The country club received a pass, too, since they’re following procedure.”
Well, wasn’t that peachy?
“I’ll bring Keith up for the fireworks,” Linda Hale offered. “It’ll be fun.”
Just not in the hotel, she almost said. “Are you—?”
“She’s sure,” Jill finished. “Now, let’s get you something else to wear.”
Peggy looked down at her shorts and T–shirt. “What’s wrong with this?”
“You can’t wear cutoffs to the hotel.” She grabbed her arm and pulled her toward the bedroom. “I’m sure I have something.”
Peggy put her hands on her hips as Jill riffled through a closet resembling a box of Crayola crayons. “Seriously, we don’t wear the same
size, and we certainly don’t have the same style.”
It was the kindest thing she could have said. She almost patted herself on the back.
Jill made a raspberry with her mouth. “I know just the thing.”
Meredith strolled in and joined them. Peggy realized that both of them were wearing sundresses and sandals. Meredith’s was a dark blue. Jill’s was a neon green. Peggy eyed the door. God, she didn’t want to turn into the third member of the Sundress Sisters Club.
“Grab her, Mere, before she makes a run for it.” Jill plucked out something yellow with a red pattern.
Meredith’s hand locked around Peggy’s arm. “We can do this hard, or we can do this easy.”
“That’s my line. I could have both of you down on the floor in thirty seconds.”
“But you won’t. Keith and Tanner love us too much,” Jill responded. “Now, if we belt this, it’ll be perfect.”
Peggy winced. “But it’s yellow. And what are those—”
“They’re embroidered dragons.” She pushed the dress into Peggy’s face. “Makes you think Bruce Lee, right? Or are you afraid to wear something that says you kick ass?”
The dragons intrigued her. Their mouths gaped open, blowing fire. Whoever had put them on a sundress needed their head examined. “I’ve never worn yellow. I’ll look like Big Bird.”
“You barely notice the color with the dragons,” Meredith said. “Jill, where’s your red belt? It’ll be the perfect accessory.”
“In Brian’s closet. I ran out of room in mine. So, strip, sister. We have to be there in twenty minutes.”
Peggy held the dress loosely in her hands. “Umm…let me use the bathroom.”
“Oh for cripes sakes! We all have the same girl parts.”
Giving a frustrated sigh, Peggy yanked off her clothes.
Jill whistled. “Nice rack, but jeez, did you ever think about wearing a real bra? You look like Yentl in that.”
Great, now they were talking about Barbra Streisand movies. “I work with guys. I don’t show my stuff. I can’t have them bouncing around.”
“We need to go back to Victoria’s Secret in Denver,” Jill announced.
She shuddered. “I’d rather take a bullet in the leg.” The last time the three of them had gone there together, Peggy had spent the whole time watching a pervert paw at the panties.
Meredith giggled. “I’m sorry. I keep seeing you chasing down a suspect, boobs bobbing up and down.”
Jill let out a snarky guffaw.
“Sounds like a bad porn flick,” Peggy finished, yanking the dress over her head.
Their hilarity died. Their mouths parted. Their eyes widened.
“What?” she demanded, fidgeting under their scrutiny.
“Yellow is a great color on you,” Meredith mused.
“You look beautiful!” Jill gushed, bouncing as much as she could, given her girth. “You should wear dresses more often.”
Peggy hitched up a shoulder. “It’s a little long.”
“Perfect, it’ll hide those sandals.” Jill thrust out a thick red belt, which she’d retrieved from the other closet. “This will help.”
As she strapped the belt on, Peggy eyed the dragons on the sleeves. They fluttered each time she moved her arms.
“Take a look,” Jill commanded, pointing to the antique standing mirror against the far wall.
Peggy didn’t move an inch, her palms suddenly damp. “Do I look presentable?”
“Absolutely,” Meredith assured her.
“Then let’s go. I don’t need to stare at myself.” She headed out of the bedroom, rubbing her burning diaphragm. She was afraid to see how she looked, and dammit, that pissed her off.
When she emerged, the stunned faces around her told her plenty. She looked like an idiot.
Keith ran forward. “Wow, Mom! You look super pretty. Doesn’t she, Uncle Tanner?”
Tanner studied her as he walked forward. Bent to kiss her cheek. “Don’t think I’ve seen you in a dress since…”
Her wedding day, she realized. She hadn’t been able to get away with wearing pants for that.
“You look beautiful, Peg,” he muttered.
“A remarkable transformation, my dear,” Arthur added.
She fought against the urge to lift her arms to the sky and scream. “Can we go already?”
Tanner’s all–knowing smile pissed her off. “Absolutely.”
As they left for the hotel, she realized she was treading on thin ice. She was wearing a dress and attending the final poker tournament.
Had aliens invaded her body?
Chapter 18
Mac paused briefly as he raked in the chips. He couldn’t explain it, but he knew Peggy was there. Somehow he’d willed it. His rational mind told him he was crazy. She hated his hotel and all it stood for—all he stood for. But his gut, which he had long since learned to trust, told him she was on site. He arranged his stack, surreptitiously scanning the crowd.
He thanked God for his poker face because, when he spotted her, he was sure all the blood drained out of his body. The first shock was that she was wearing yellow, something too soft for her. The second was that she was wearing a dress. It cascaded down her slender legs to the most hideous sandals he’d ever seen on a woman—flat, scuffed, and muddy brown. She looked…beautiful. Feminine. What the hell?
He brought his gaze back to the table, keeping abreast of everyone’s bets before the dealer turned the next card. His eyes wandered back to her again. A red belt outlined her trim waist and sizeable bustline, her breasts curvy and inviting.
Their eyes met. The noise from the table died away, and a buzzing sounded in his ears. He stopped feeling the cards in his hands. Her dark eyes looked smoky today, perhaps an effect of the yellow she wore. They burned with anger and judgment. He could feel her repulsion from across the room. The slice cut him open.
He cursed under his breath. He had seventy percent of the table’s chips and was well on his way to victory. He didn’t need this distraction.
“Mac,” the dealer said. “Call or raise?”
He wanted to kick the legs of the table. He’d lost track of the betting. “Call.”
The dealer turned the final card after Cince bet.
The players put down their hands. Mac swore. The River had blown his hand apart.
Cince raked in the chips, grinning at his right. “Something on your mind, Maverick?”
His knowing glance triggered a spurt of irritation. He shrugged and took his cards, now stationed on the button, every poker player’s favorite position. Play continued, but his gaze kept drifting to her.
She watched him like a jackal.
He struggled to shut her out.
When he lost the next hand, Cince elbowed him. Hard. “You and Rhett need to get your heads on straight. Don’t let the women get to you.”
He glanced across the table. Rhett was distracted too—instead of watching the dealer, his eyes were glued on Abbie, who was talking to Bobbie Jenkins, a professional who’d busted out before the final table. Jenkins was standing a little too close to his sister. Rhett tugged on his jacket’s fringe. Mac could all but see the smoke coming out of his ears. Abbie wasn’t encouraging the man, but Jenkins always hit on her whenever he was in town. Mac had decided to let her handle it on her own. He hoped Rhett would too. If he left the table, he’d incur a penalty, which would lead to his chips being posted for the ante even though he wasn’t there. No one wanted to lose like that.
The next three hands went to Cince. Mac’s concentration was split like two forks in the road—half on the table and the other half on the woman whose presence was like a garrote around his neck.
Lance Jenkins finally busted out when Mac forced him to go all in. He fought the urge to look over at Peggy again. Why was she wearing a dress with dragons on it? And why had she come at all?
Cince was playing it loose, throwing it all out on the table. His strategy was effective. Even Rhett was playing tighter a
s his stack of chips steadily dwindled. Mac changed tactics a couple of times to keep the others guessing, playing conservative one hand and loose the next. He knew the other men at the table like he knew himself. It was time to shake things up.
He bet heavy on the next hand, willing an inside straight, and when the River card appeared, he smiled at Rhett and raked in the pot. The tourney’s MC announced a break.
Mac rose, resisting the urge to smooth down his jacket. The dealer announced the totals. He was in the lead with fifty percent of the chips, having lost ten percent after Peggy’s sudden arrival. Cince had picked up a serious stack, but he still hovered at thirty–five percent. Rhett’s stack had dwindled to fifteen percent, courtesy of Abbie.
Mac wandered to the bar with Cince beside him. “I need to pay that deputy sheriff to watch you play more often,” his friend said.
“You don’t need to pay me,” Peggy replied from behind them.
Mac turned, his blood heating from her proximity—and her venom.
“I’ll leave you two,” Cince muttered.
“Why are you here?” he asked boldly.
Her stare was unflinching, a total contrast to the softness of the dress. “My BBQ broke up early to see the finals. I decided to tag along.”
He unbuttoned his jacket. Planted his hands on his waist. “To do what? Dissect me like an insect?”
The scooped neckline gave him an ample view of her delicate throat as she swallowed. “Your words. Not mine.”
“I want you to leave,” he demanded before he could stop himself.
Her mouth turned up. “Am I bothering you?”
“No, but I don’t like hostile people attending my tourneys. We have a watch list.”
She shifted her weight. It only accentuated the curve of her waist. He had the desperate urge to wrap his arms around her. Whether to throw her out or throw her on the floor and have his way with her, he couldn’t decide.
“Am I on it?” she sniped.
He grabbed the Perrier with lime his bartender brought to him—his regular drink during breaks—and downed it. “You don’t want to watch this.”
She made a merciless humming noise. “Oh, but I do. My interest is only increasing.”
