Page 3 of Big Bold Gambler

“Jeannie’s tired.”

“Ah, well I guess that can’t be helped,” Maxwell murmurs. Then, he turns his gaze to me. “If you want to learn some of the other table games, feel free to stop by. I’d be more than happy to teach you.”

“Thanks,” I say as my dad starts to lead me away. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

While we head home, Maxwell’s warm smile stays at the forefront of my mind. We aren’t even halfway back to our house when I decide that I’m going to go back. There’s some invisible force pushing me closer and closer to him.

Chapter Two

Maxwell

In all honesty, I could have behaved better a few nights ago when Patrick introduced me to Jeannie. I’ve known Patrick since before his daughter was born, before he moved to Cherrywood Village and decided that he was going to settle down and go straight—or at least as straight as a man like him can go. He’s fiercely protective and has a nose for bullshit. He could tell I was interested in his kid.

Even knowing that Patrick has the kind of connections that could make my life…very difficult, I still offered to teach Jeannie about gambling. I even doubled down on it. There’s something about her, about that shock of red hair and those emerald, green eyes and that freckled face, that compelled me. It doesn’t matter what I might be risking, she’s worth it.

That being said, I’m not really expecting to see her again. It’s doubtful that Patrick would let her out of the house, especially if he knows she’s coming to the casino. If I want to get to know her better—which I do, more than anything in the world—I’ll likely have to come up with ways to circumvent her father.

With all of those thoughts in mind, it’s a shock when I spot her walking into the casino two days after her birthday.

“Sorry,” I say to the man I’ve been speaking to, patting his arm, “something just came up.”

If he says anything to me as I’m walking away, I don’t hear him. I’m hyper-focused on the gorgeous little thing that’s walked into my casino. She looks just as good as she did a few days ago, swapping that sinfully tight mini-dress she was wearing for jeans. Most notably, she looks like she’s alone.

“Jeannie,” I call, catching her attention with a gentle touch to her elbow. She turns to look at me, a flash of relief on her face when she sees it’s me. “I wasn’t expecting to see you back here so soon.”

“I had the evening free,” she replies, a sly smile settling on her lips. “I figured that I’d take you up on your offer to teach me some table games. If you have the time.”

“I always have time for you.” I enjoy the way she blushes at the words too much. “Do you have any preferences on what you’d like to start with?”

“Well, I’m not completely hopeless,” she murmurs, her eyes landing on one of the tables. “I know the basics about blackjack.”

“You do?” I ask, raising an eyebrow. “I thought you said you didn’t know how to play any of them.”

“I can’t let my dad know that I sort of know how to gamble.” She ducks her head, sort of embarrassed.

“Jeannie, Jeannie, Jeannie.” I cluck my tongue playfully. “You’re full of surprises, aren’t you?”

“I like to think so.” The corner of her mouth turns up into a smirk that I almost want to think is flirtatious.

“Let’s warm you up at the blackjack table, then.” I put my hand on the small of her back to lead her to one the tables.

“Wait,” she groans, palming her forehead as we approach the table, “I forgot my card.”

“You can gamble with mine,” I say, sidling us up between two other players.

“Are you sure?” she replies, leaning in closer to me. I wonder if she knows what she’s doing to me when she closes the space between us like that.

“Of course I am.” Keeping my hand on her, I pull my casino card from my pocket.

As it turns out, Jeannie knows more than just the basics of blackjack. She plays several hands, winning her bet on each one. Each time, she turns to look at me, her smile wide. I barely know the girl, but I can’t help but be proud of her.

“Seems like you have a handle on this,” I say, letting my hand cross from her lower back to her hip, pulling her even closer. “What do you say we try the poker table after this? You can watch me play a few hands before you take over.”

“Actually,” she murmurs, tapping the red velvet surface for another card, “is there somewhere we could go to talk?”

“I can take you to my office,” I offer, a little thrill running through me at the prospect of being alone with her. “How does that sound?”

She glances at me before looking back to the dealer. “Perfect.”

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