I shouldn’t have goaded her. She gives me a Gen Shuffleboard Smackdown of five-zip in under an hour.
By the time we return home, I’m not sure who’s more nervous about Gen’s future dating adventures—her, or me as her wingwoman, thrust in front of tempting, attractive men.
Or just one attractive man.
Chapter Three
I am officially the card-dealing samurai. I’ve gotten so good these last two weeks that I multitask while I work and scope out the action inside the casino. It’s like watching Casino Real World. Right now, the sweet, brunette swing-shift waitress is flirting with the tall, dark-haired cashier behind the cage, while two other waitresses—who I’m pretty sure have a thing for each other—chat by a row of slots. Over in Gen’s lounge, two youngish executives with loosened ties troll for women. Their game is that they are there for an end-of-the-day drink, but I can tell they’re looking for a hook-up. One of them has been tracking Gen’s every move. It’s making me nervous.
I deal my next hand and glance into the East Bar, where Gen’s safely ensconced, chatting up Mason.
My heart warms at the sight. I’m like a proud mama duck watching her duckling venture into the world. Gen and Mason have been casually flirting for a couple of weeks. Well, okay, I can’t tell if the banter is friendly or flirty, but at this point I don’t care. Gen’s laughing and smiling more, and that’s all that matters. This is the happiest I’ve seen her in months.
Jaeger swaggers up to Mason’s bar and my heart pumps an extra beat. He’s in a black T-shirt and dark jeans and my mouth goes dry just looking at him—
“Hit.”
Crap, I missed a customer signal. Too much casino-watching.
The woman glares. I quickly deal a card and count the odds, shoving my head in the game. When I can no longer stand the suspense, I glance at Mason’s bar.
Jaeger is smiling at Gen, his forearm on the counter, body angled toward her. I can’t look away. Corded muscles in his arm flex under his weight, his hand casually curled.
Damn those hot hands. Visions of them grasping my flesh and skimming over my body hijack my mind.
Eric hasn’t called, and Jaeger’s effect on me is inconvenient. I was hoping Eric would visit and remind me why we’re together, because I’m not feeling the love.
I shift my feet, gaze shooting now and then to the trio at the bar. Gen laughs at something Jaeger says and jealousy spears my chest.
This is ridiculous. I want Gen to have male attention. Why does this particular guy’s attention have me so upset? He was my brother’s friend, and for all I know, he’s still in touch with Tyler. I should call Tyler and get the scoop.
Two of my customers rise, gathering their chips. They’ve lost the last three rounds.
I can predict with 99 percent accuracy when a customer will leave. Three rounds of losses have a 50 percent probability, while five or six rounds guarantee they’ll be moving along.
Tonight I’m hot. No one stays at my table for more than a few hands.
My last two customers, middle-aged mother types, show each other their cards. They’ve managed to break even for a half hour. The longest stretch so far.
Dealer shows a ten. Not looking good, ladies.
The woman with frosted blond bangs scrunches her nose. She whispers to her pal, her bright pink, fake nails shining in the overhead lights as she cups her mouth. With a nod from her friend, she swipes the table, indicating a hit.
I deal her card and her lips press together in a subdued smile, but her eyes dart warily to my ten.
Her friend hits as well, then holds.
I flip my hidden card. Ace.
House takes all.
Again.
I’m even winning when it comes to getting Gen hooked-up, so what the hell is wrong with me? Why does everything Jaeger does have me on edge? I need to talk to Eric. He hasn’t called since before his visit, and that was three weeks ago. He’s texted a couple of times, so I know he’s alive.
My tight ponytail is giving me a headache. I hold my hands over the table, clap them together, and show my palms to the ceiling—and the creepy people watching from the surveillance system—before tugging the strands loose near my temple.
The pressure eases, but the sledgehammer behind my scalp persists. Flashing my hands again, I show I haven’t pulled any cards from behind my ears and deal another hand. A new customer sits at my table while I’m looking down, and the fine hairs on the back of my neck tingle.
Jaeger is seated in front of me, his shoulders practically taking up two seat widths. My heart ricochets inside my chest like a pinball. I can’t control the smile that tugs at the corners of my mouth.
Stop smiling! I compress my lips in a straight line.
Jaeger doesn’t say anything, and when it’s his turn to hit, he swipes his card. “What are you doing after work tonight?”
Where is he going with this? He can’t be hitting on me—well, he’s hitting, but not on me. I pass him his card. “Um, not much.”
Jaeger is here to flirt with Gen. There’s nothing to worry about. I am not cheating on Eric.
“You up for experiencing a Tahoe sunrise tradition?”
Sounds promising. Jaeger, or it could be Mason, probably wants to see Gen tonight and Jaeger’s checking in with me because she and I are a package deal. I’m thinking champagne on the beach … he has skills, if this is how he plays it with her.
“I’m game. What did Gen say?” I flip my hidden card and add a six to my seven. I deal myself another. King.
Dealer busts.
And just like that, my winning streak breaks.
The frosted sisters lost as well, and have already abandoned the table. Jaeger’s eighteen is the winning hand.
“She says she’ll go if you do.” He scrapes up his winnings.
I search his expression, but he’s not looking at me. All I see are the tips of his lashes, a full bottom lip, and a square jawline framed by broad shoulders. I can’t tell if he’s making sure I’m going so Gen feels comfortable, or if he wants me there. Which is stupid. It doesn’t matter whether he wants me there or not. Gen’s the available one.
Why the hell am I thinking about this at all? I need to talk to Eric. “We get off at three. What time do you want to meet?”
Jaeger shoves his chips into his pocket, and I’m staring at the corded muscles along his forearms again. Dammit! Can the guy wear something other than flesh-baring T-shirts? What is this, a strip club?
“I’ll pick you up at the front entrance at three-thirty.”
I force my gaze up.
“Wear something comfortable.” His eyes dip, only for a moment—a glance that takes in my polyester uniform as if it were revealing. My uniform is the same one every dealer wears—unsexed—and it’s not attractive. But that glance was proprietary. And hot.
Jaeger merges with the crowd and my pit boss hands me a new stack of cards. I focus on my kickass riffle shuffle and not the beautiful man striding away from my table.
Chapter Four
“Fishing? You’re taking us fishing?”
In the time it took us to grab food before the “sunrise tradition,” the sky turned from black to dark blue. Four fishing poles glint like spears in the predawn light of Jaeger’s truck bed.
I scratch my head, trying to figure out what the hell these guys are thinking. This is not my idea of a good time. Was this Mason’s or Jaeger’s idea? I’m adjusting my assessment of their seduction skills.
It’s getting close to five in the morning and we’re on a beach north of Stateline I’ve never been to. Small rowboats are moored at a narrow dock.
Hello? Anyone hear of boats with engines? What are we, in the sixteenth century?
My mood is pissy, but I’m freaking tired. And it’s cold out here.
Jaeger lifts a box I assume contains tackle and grabs the fishing poles. I’ve seen people fish. I understand the requisite accoutrements. I just never thought I’d be using them in this lifetim
e. There’s a time and place to acquire fish—laid out on ice in the meat section of the grocery store is my preference.
“Scared?” Mason raises a brow, his dimple in effect. He’s goading me?
I cross my arms. “How hard can it be?”
Jaeger is wholly focused on putting together the fishing gear. He’s not saying anything, but I think he’s aware I’m not excited about this. Could be the extreme animosity I’m giving off.
Jaeger was vague when he invited me, and the two of them have kept the details of our adventure a secret until now. Sneaky.
They walk to the water’s edge and untie the twin drowning contraptions from the dock, dragging them to shore.
I glance at Gen, who’s watching intently. She looks at me, shrugs, and heads for the boats.
Great. How am I going to find her a good guy if she doesn’t have the natural instincts to know when she’s being properly wooed? The Last Stop for a quick bite and a fishing trip are not what I consider wining and dining.
“Have you done this before?” Gen asks after I reluctantly join her, her face alight with excitement.
Am I the only one who doesn’t find the idea of fishing at five in the morning the least bit entertaining? “No. You?”
She peers out longingly at the water. “I used to go with my grandfather when I was a kid, but I haven’t been in a long time. This is going to be fun.” She wraps her arm around my shoulders and squeezes the blood from my limbs.
Oh God. My headache is returning. I glance at the truck. Is it too late to back out? There’s something about luring innocent fish and then manhandling their slimy bodies until they die that makes me want to hide beneath a rock.
Mason turns around. “Gen, you and I are together. Hop in from here. It’s easier than from the dock.”
Wait, what? I’m going with Jaeger? Alone? “Shouldn’t Gen and I go together? She’s fished before. She can help me out.”
Mason shakes his head. “She told me a couple of days ago that she doesn’t have a fishing license.”
Gen shrugs and nods in agreement.
Wait, is this the reason we’re out here at five in the morning? Gen and Mason talked about fishing and now Mason’s taking her? Not exactly my idea of romantic, but if he was listening to something she wanted to do, I can’t argue.
“Technically, neither of you should fish without a license, but we can probably get away with it if we split up. These boats are too small to accommodate both me and Jaeger, and I don’t want to leave you girls alone.”
I could admire Mason’s protective nature if I wasn’t so panicked about being marooned with Jaeger. My stomach’s doing its version of the Harlem Shake, threatening to eject the large meal I just ate.
Eric would do this—be a friend’s wingman and hang with a girl’s best friend so his buddy could get to know someone. That’s all this is. That’s all Jaeger’s doing too. He doesn’t care if he’s alone with me. Why should I?
Releasing the clamp on my airways, I breathe deeply and approach Jaeger’s boat.
The fishing poles are loaded, along with a tackle box and a small cooler. He reaches out and I take his hand. It’s padded with muscle, warm and firm, and it engulfs mine. A shock of heat rushes my chest. Previous dreams of that hand on my body dive-bomb any hope of rational thought. I stagger into the boat, my butt landing with a jarring drop.
Jaeger passes me a paddle and I brace myself against the side, digging my fingers into the metal. Fantasies aren’t cheating. Still, this has got to stop. Most hot guys drop about ten notches after I get to know them. I’ll ask Jaeger a few pointed questions. That should douse the ardor.
I dip my oar into the water and we attempt a rhythm, paddling out on the lake. Jaeger focuses on something in the distance and I follow his gaze.
“Head for the outcrop.” He points to the dark rock wall a quarter of a mile away.
We clumsily row to the peninsula. Okay, the clumsy part’s on me; I’m chopping and splashing, maneuvering my paddle like a hacksaw. The sky is sapphire blue with the rising sun, which has yet to crest Tahoe’s circular ridge of mountains.
“Why over here?” I ask as we near. “Shouldn’t we go deeper?”
“This is deep, and the fish like coves. It’s also closer to shore—less labor on our part.” He sets his oar down, his gaze intent on my face. For a moment, he doesn’t move, he simply stares, his jaw working as if he’s trying to decide whether or not to say something.
Gen and Mason are closer to shore than we are. Hushed conversation floats over from their direction, but nothing decipherable. Jaeger and I might as well be alone. I glance away and focus on the obsidian water.
Jaeger’s warm leg brushes my calf as he reaches for a pole. “You’ve never done this before?”
For a moment, I wonder what he’s talking about. The heat from his leg and the proximity of his body has me thinking of make-out sessions and cheating on boyfriends. Multiple yeses to the former—no to the latter.
Then I remember we’re supposed to be fishing. “No.”
“I’ll bait your hook.”
“Excuse me?” Why does everything he says sound like a pick-up line?
He raises an eyebrow and pulls a wiggling worm from a Styrofoam container. He spears the worm on the end of a hook the size of my pinky.
I throw up a little in my mouth. Why am I here again?
Gen’s boat drifts farther away. I can’t hear anything from them now.
“Here.” Jaeger holds out the fishing rod with the worm still wiggling on the end. “Press the button on the reel and drop the hook.”
I’m trying to concentrate on his words, but I can’t stop staring at the impaled worm. I gingerly take the reel, holding it so Mr. Worm doesn’t touch me, or get knocked against the side of the boat, adding insult to injury. Lowering the tip of the pole, I let him float on the lake’s surface. Maybe the little guy will get lucky and escape his torture device while Jaeger finishes his instructions.
“After you drop the line, press the release when I tell you.”
Bossy, are we? But I press the button and the line sinks, whistling as it descends. Now the worm is drowning. Fishing cannot be humane.
Jaeger gives the signal and I press the button to stop the reel. I grip the rod as if it were an ax and stare at the end, with no clue what I’m supposed to be waiting for.
Jaeger pulls another worm from the Styrofoam container and I look away. I know what’s about to happen. I can’t watch this one’s fate at the end of Jaeger’s hook.
Why does that bring to mind my own destiny?
At the sound of his line going into the water, I peer over. He locks his reel and reaches for a small cooler he loaded before we boarded. He pulls out a Budweiser and pops the top, passing it.
Cheap beer at five thirty in the morning? I will gladly take said beer and drink it like it is mother’s milk. The carbonation might settle my stomach. At the very least, a light buzz could dim the sexual tension and sense of doom in the air—or make it worse. Jesus, that’s all I need.
If I’m the only one with dirty thoughts, I can deal, but if Jaeger is attracted to me, too … we have a problem.
“How will I know when I’ve caught a fish?”
He shushes me and glances over like I’ve been naughty, which I have—in my mind. “You won’t catch a fish if you scare them away,” he whispers.
I lower my voice. “Are you going to tell me how this is done, or what?”
His mouth twitches. Without looking at me, he says, “They nibble.”
A tingle shoots down my chest and past my thighs. I squeeze my legs together. Again with the dirty fishing talk!
“It will feel like a vibration, maybe a few quick tugs. Don’t react right away. Let the fish take a nice bite, then jerk your hook. If you feel more movement, you’ve caught something.”
He pops open a beer for himself and we sit in silence, me chugging my beer and waiting to be nibbled, he as still as a stone two feet away.
Another small jerk and rattle. With his gaze on his own line, Jaeger doesn’t seem to notice.
The next tug from the mysterious creature below the surface has my rod slipping a fraction from my fingers. I lurch the pole up and wind the reel a couple of times to take up the slack. The end jerks like crazy. I’ve caught something for sure.
Spinning the reel with quick, uncontrolled strokes, I fight to bring in the wild animal, my adrenaline kicking up a notch. I’m getting this fishing business now. Woman versus beast!
What exactly is down there? Are there freshwater sharks? Because I think I caught one. This fish is a wily bugger. I’m straining and not making much progress.
Jaeger scoots closer, our arms brushing. I sense when he sets his pole down, his gaze on me. “Need help?”
Before I can answer, the boat dips and my grip loosens on the pole to correct my balance. Jaeger sinks behind me on the bench I’m straddling, his front to my back.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
“Figured you wanted to know how to reel it in.” His deep voice, the light cologne he’s wearing, and the feel of his body against mine has me frozen in place.
I choke. “I think I know how that’s done.”
His hands cover mine and I instantly release the pole, putting my hands in my lap. He draws in the line with quick, efficient strokes, and the fish breaches the surface of the water.
It’s the size of a minnow.
What the hell? I had a dolphin on the end of that line.
I scoot to Jaeger’s previous position as he makes a grab for Mr. Slimy and gently unhooks my fish’s lip. He tosses the minnow overboard, and the little guy arcs and swims away.
“Why’d you throw him back?” I worked hard for that fish, and Mr. Worm sacrificed his life.
“Catch and release. We’re not keeping them, even if you had caught one big enough to eat.” His mouth curves.
Deep Blue Page 3
