Page 8 of Roughing It with the Rancher

When he returns to the table, he asks, “Shall we sit here for a few minutes, or do you want to head straight upstairs?”

“Here’s fine,” I say, trying to force my brain back into business mode. “I’d like to get back to the conversation we need to have.”

He shifts in the chair, his eyes so raptly devouring me, I wonder if he’s heard a thing I said. To my surprise, he manages, “Let’s talk then.”

“Half that pot you’re waiting on at the cashier’s is mine.”

He laughs incredulously, his eyes narrowing. Shaking his head in disbelief, he says, “The joke was funny the first time, but?—”

“It’s no joke. I stood behind you this morning”—I don’t want to say how long—“watching you crashing and burning in one of the worst losing streaks in casino history?—”

“Now, how would you know what a bad losing streak constitutes, Oklahoma?”

I straighten in my chair, reminding him, “We have casinos, too.”

He crosses his arms, his expression stuck somewhere between disbelief and amusement. “Go on.”

“So, you can either handle this like the gentleman who kissed my hand earlier and give me half my winnings. Or you can try to shirk out of the whole thing. But I warn you. I am as persistent as they come, and I will not stop until I’ve made you see things my way.”

He licks his lips slowly, a half-grin lighting up his expression. “There goes that angel facade of yours. What are you? A scammer who goes around casinos tailing desperate guys who’ve turned around their luck?”

I chuckle. Is there even such a thing? “First off, you did not look like the kind of guy about to turn around his luck. Secondly, you would’ve walked out of here with nothing if it weren’t for me and my magic breath.”

“Magic breath? Is that what we’re calling it now?” His face hardens as he leans further back into his chair, getting comfortable.

I take a nervous sip of my Americano.

“Is the drink to your liking?”

“Yes, it is. Thank you. Now, back to our conversation?—”

“Before we go any further with this conversation, how do I know you aren’t in cahoots with the dealer or maybe somebody else at the table to rob me of my earnings?”

I laugh out loud at the suggestion. “That’s ridiculous.”

“Is it? Really?” The creases in his forehead deepen. “Maybe you work with the house to shake down gamblers that do too well?”

I shake my head. “Well, isn’t that the pot calling the kettle black? You’re the one attempting to scam me out of half our winnings, and I’m the deceitful one?”

He leans forward, pressing a big, thick finger into the table with each word to make his point. “They. Are. Not. Your. Winnings.”

We glare at each other across the table.

“Whose are they, then? As I remember, what happened at the table was a joint venture. End of story.”

“If you weren’t so damn hot when you get angry, I would’ve already left this table. Treasure, you’re wasting your time.”

“Now, I’m Treasure, too?”

He nods slowly, his eyes narrowing.

I don’t even know what to do with that nickname. Instead, I ignore it. “No, I’m not wasting my time.”

“Look,” he growls, drawing even closer so that our faces are only a few inches apart. “That winning streak would’ve happened one way or the other. You were merely a lovely distraction along the way.”

I sit back, crossing my arms and echoing his body language.Lovely distraction?Talk about condescending. It’s not even worth the breath of a response. “Half the money, and I’ll be on my way. You’ll never hear from me again.”

Except you still need access to his ranch, Esmeralda! What a tangled web. Maybe you should just level with the guy about the treasure?

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