Page 9 of Riding with the Rejected Wolf

I chuckle, finally chancing a proper look at her. "Cards, huh? You sure you're ready to take on a badass biker like me?"

She smirks as she gets out a deck of cards and starts shuffling. "In my experience, bikers are only bad if you wrong them in some way. So I have no issue going up against you in a game of cards. Besides, I could probably hustle you blindfolded."

I raise an eyebrow, unable to hide my amusement. "Big words for someone who jumped at the sound of thunder."

"Hey," she protests, but there's a playful glint in her eye. "I'm not scared of thunder. Just... startled. It's different."

"Sure, sure," I tease, moving to sit across from her at the small, worn-out table. The cards slap down with a confident flourish that makes me wonder just how good Mika is at this game. I lean back in my chair, trying to look nonchalant. "So, what's your game of choice? Poker? Gin rummy? Go Fish?"

She grins with a mischievous spark lighting up her eyes. "Texas Hold'em. Considering you’re a big bad biker, I expect you to know your way around a deck of cards and I don’t need to explain the rules."

Big bad biker? More like the big bad wolf, but I’ll play along.

"All right, Texas Hold’em it is," I say, cracking my knuckles. "But don't say I didn't warn you. I’ve cleaned out entire clubs with my card skills."

Mika rolls her eyes but doesn't miss a beat as she deals the cards with a practiced flick of her wrist. "How about we make this interesting then, tough guy?" she says, her voice tinged with a cocky edge.

I lean in, intrigued. "And what exactly did you have in mind?"

She pauses, looking at the cards thoughtfully before raising her gaze to meet mine.

"Loser has to spill a secret. Something real. None of that middle school crap like 'I once put glue on my teacher's chair.'"

"High stakes for a friendly game," I say, though the idea does pique my interest. "You sure you're ready to hear my deep, dark secrets?"

"Ready as I'll ever be," she shoots back, her eyes never leaving mine.

"All right, deal," I agree, flipping my cards up and stretching my legs under the table. "But only if you're ready to bare your soul, too."

She scoffs, but there's a hint of nervousness in her eyes. "Spilling a few secrets to you is the least of my worries."

As the game unfolds, tension mounts and laughter intersperses our competitive banter. She’s good—damn good. I can't help but admire her focus, the way her eyes scan every card, every flicker of my expression.

“Raise you ten,” she says, sliding a neat stack of makeshift chips to the center—torn up pieces of paper with number values on them.

"You know you're gonna lose, right?" I respond, pushing a stack of my own forward. “I’ve got a poker face that would make a statue jealous.”

Mika raises an eyebrow, smirking. "Then get your ass in the game and prove it, biker boy.”

“Oh, I’m a boy now, am I?” I chuckle, but inside, I’m all business. She’s got me curious—what kind of secrets is she thinking of spilling?

The game gets intense. Cards flipping, paper chips sliding, the whole nine yards. The air between us crackles with energy, her focus like a laser beam on every move I make. My cards aren't half bad, but she's playing like her life depends on it.

"So, what's your story, anyway?" I ask casually, trying to throw her off. “What kind of danger is a woman like you trying to avoid?”

Her eyes flicker momentarily, betraying a flash of vulnerability before she smirks again. "Nice try, but I’m not losing concentration that easily. Besides, isn't the whole point of this game to drag it out of me the proper way?"

"Can't blame a guy for trying," I say, grinning. "But fair enough. I'll keep my eyes on the prize."

The final hand comes down to the wire. I've got an ace and a queen, both of hearts, promising, but not definitive. The last card flips—a king. Oh hell. This could go either way. Mika's eyes narrow, her poker face slipping just enough to show she's calculating her next move.

"I'll see your ten and raise you twenty," she says, pushing her last paper chips into the center. Her eyes lock onto mine with a quiet challenge.

I lean back, considering. This is it—the moment of truth. I glance at my cards again, weighing my odds. She's good, no doubt about it. But I have the edge that most humans don’t have, wolf senses. My hearing and smell combined are like a built-in bullshit detector, and right now, they’re telling me she’s bluffing. Her heartbeat skips just slightly, her scent sharpens with tension.

"All right then," I say, matching her bet. "Let's see what you've got, Mary."

She flips her cards: two pairs, eights and nines. Not bad. But I flip mine, revealing my ace and queen. "Sorry, Mary. Looks like luck's on my side tonight."

---