Page 605 of The Winslow Brothers

“I didn’t do it!” Ryder shouts.

Eyes wide, I look back at my mom, but she just waves me off. “Go, Remy. Go play poker. Enjoy your night. We’ll survive.”

I hesitate for all of five seconds before nodding and pressing a quick kiss to her cheek. “You’re the best, Mom. Love you.”

“Love you too, Rem.”

After I give Carmen and Izzy a quick hug and kiss and slip Lexi an extra hundred bucks on top of whatever my sister and Wes already bribed her with, I head out the door. But just as I’m hopping in the car, my phone buzzes with a text from Maria.

Maria: You get the girls to your mom’s okay?

Me: They are officially in the care of Wendy and Howard and Lexi.

Maria: Really? I didn’t know Lex was going to be there tonight.

Me: Per Lexi, she is being compensated generously for her Saturday-night sacrifice. I also slipped her an extra hundred bucks before I left, just to seal the deal.

Maria: Good thinking.

Me: And Carmen and Izzy were the last grandkids to arrive. Hawk was already running around naked when we got there, and Roman and Ryder were well on their way to breaking shit. Izzy, of course, found her way straight into the chaos, and Carmen found cookies and her favorite calm cousin Emily.

Maria: So, pretty much how it usually is, then.

Me: Exactly. You getting some much-needed peace and quiet?

Maria: Yep. Currently in a bubble bath. With wine. And a face mask.

Me: Damn. That sounds like maybe I should skip the whole poker bullshit and come straight home…

Maria: You and I both know the backlash from Thatch wouldn’t be worth it. Anyway, I’ll still be here when you get home… ;)

Me: As in, you’ll still be naked in the bath?

Maria: Definitely still naked.

Me: You’re ruthless.

Maria: You love it.

Me: Always. Love you, Ria.

Maria: Love you, Rem.

Ty

Poker night at Thatch’s penthouse is always a spectacle, but tonight? Tonight is on another level.

Cards are flying, chips are stacking high, and the shit-talking is at an all-time peak. There’s also a picked-over board of fancy food in the shape of a vagina, just as Thatch said there’d be, that all of us have been hungry enough to pretend is normal.

“Call,” I say, leaning back in my chair with an easy grin, tossing my chips into the pot. “And raise you twenty.”

Jude, across the table, narrows his eyes at me. “You’re bluffing.”

“Am I, though?” I smirk, watching him sweat.

“You think he’s bluffing, Flynn?” Jude asks, meeting Flynn’s eyes.

Flynn shrugs and takes a sip of his beer.

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