Page 4 of Big Bold Gambler

As soon as Jeannie wins this hand, I take my card and lead her away. We weave through the crowd, her pushing herselfcloser to me to avoid bumping into other patrons. We break out of the masses, and I guide her down a hallway marked “Employees Only.” And, even though it’s now just the two of us, she stays just as close.

“Here we are,” I say as I open the door and pull her inside. “This is where I rule over my kingdom.”

She looks over the office, her eyes lingering on the old photos I have hanging on my wall. I let my hand drop as she walks over, looking at the younger versions of me from my time in New York City. I stay close to her, standing at her elbow.

“Is that my dad?” she asks, pointing at an old photo of us our old crew.

“It is,” I confirm, waiting for her to posit more questions. When she doesn’t, I grab one of the chairs and gesture for her to sit down, saying, “The casino too overstimulating for you?”

“Not really.” As she settles in she continues, “I just wanted to talk.”

“Oh?” Pulling another chair up across from her, I sit down peering expectantly at her.

“It’s just…” she sighs and shakes her head. “It gets lonely just talking to my dad all day.”

“You don’t have friends?” I ask, disbelieving that this sharp woman doesn’t have companionship.

“Only one close one,” she admits, sounding a little embarrassed. “But Fiona left town, so I don’t really get to talk to her much anymore.”

“That’s too bad,” I mutter, reaching across the distance to rest my hand on her knee. “I’d be honored to be your friend.”

“I’d love that.” Her fingers twitching before she covers my hand with hers.

“So,” a smile tugs at my lips, “you know that I run this casino, but what do you do?”

“I’m an artist.” She says the words with so much pride, a light igniting behind her eyes. “I’ve only sold a few pieces, but I’d really like to be able to make a living doing it.”

“I’m sure you will,” I say seriously. “I can tell you’re determined.

“Thank you.”

“And I’d like to see your art,” I tell her truthfully. If her hands created it, I’m sure that it’s beautiful and worthy of being in a gallery.

“Really?” She sounds surprised and I can’t help but feel some anger at Patrick. Keeping this girl so isolated that something so simple would impress her? She deserves better than that.

“Of course,” I reply, squeezing her knee.

She blushes beautifully, averting her gaze like she can’t trust herself to look at me. It’s adorable, and I desperately want to make her flustered like this for the rest of my life. I don’t think I’ve ever needed anything so badly before.

“My dad’s leaving for a business trip tomorrow,” she looks at me through her lashes, “if you wanted to stop by and see it.”

“I’d like that.” I move my head down, ducking to ensure that we maintain eye contact. “What time does he leave?”

“After lunch, I think,” she tells me after a moment of thought. “He has a flight to catch.”

“How about I give you my number and you let me know when he’s gone?” I suggest, pretending I’m unaffected by the fact that she doesn’t want her dad to know I’m coming over.

It makes sense. I could tell by the way he watched the two of us when they came in that he didn’t approve of me befriending his daughter. He did know me when I was younger. I was a player, but I was young and riding the high of having more money than I knew what to do with. I’ve matured since then. My priorities are different.

“That sounds good,” she says, lifting herself up slightly to dig her phone out of her back pocket. She taps at the screen for a few seconds with her free hand before thrusting it toward me. “Here.”

I take the phone from her and put my number in. Then, for good measure, I send myself a message so I have her number, too.

“There.” I pass it back. “You just let me know when you want me to stop by, and I’ll be there.”

“Okay,” she murmurs, seemingly trying to stamp down her excitement. She lets the moment settle before she says, “So, tell me how this place works.”

I grin, happy to tell her all of the ins and outs of the place where I spend nearly all of my free time. She asks all the right questions, and I wonder if she has any interest in working here. She seems to have a good grasp on blackjack, and I’m sure a gorgeous thing like her would rake in tips. At that thought, I feela strange lash of protectiveness. I don’t want her being looked at by anyone but me.

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