Page 86 of Stolen Rival
I open my mouth to answer, not really sure what to say, when Patrick squeezes my hand again. “He’s right,mo mhuirnín.You need access to your own money. It’s not right for you to have to ask when you need to buy something.”
“Not even he’s that much of a dick.” Darragh smirks as he takes a drink.
Patrick huffs out a sigh. “Right, are you fuckers done taking the piss and ready to lose your money?” He fronts me some cash and deals me in.
Watching my husband play poker reveals another layer to him. He’s shrewd, perceptive as hell, and aggressive with his plays. After an hour, I’ve overtaken Darragh and Patrick, and I’m staring Liam down over my trio of nines.
“Fold.” Darragh places his cards on the table with a huff. “You didn’t tell us you married a hustler, Patrick.”
There’s a curious amusement in my husband’s eyes when his hand makes it onto my thigh.
“She led us up the garden path with her ‘not well’ when I asked her if she played.” Liam stares at his cards so hard that I’m surprised he’s not burning holes through them.
A phone rings and Patrick’s brothers look right at him. “No phones during games.” Darragh points at him. “You have to throw an extra hundred in the pot.” He’s downright gleeful even though there’s zero chance he’s going to be the one to win it.
Patrick flips him off. “I’m waiting for an important call.”
Darragh shrugs. “Rules are rules.”
Patrick tuts, leans across to kiss me on my cheek. “I’ll be right back,mo mhuirnín. Don’t let these pricks push you around.”
“Like that was ever an option.”
Patrick leaves, and my game with Liam continues. He’s almost as hard to read as his brother. “You’re good for him.”
It’s an unexpected compliment from an even more unexpected source. I haven’t been here for very long, but I got the impression Patrick’s brothers tolerated me because they had to.
“It’s nice to know he has someone who’s looking out for him.” Liam’s stare is heavy on my face, but I keep my eyes on my cards.
“Isn’t that what wives are for?”
“It’s more than that,” he presses. “He has a heavy burden to carry, but since he met you, it’s somehow seemed lighter.”
Is it? I can’t say that I’ve noticed. He’s up before the birds, works like a dog, and goes to bed in the wee hours absolutely knackered. He looks like shit, only eats because people hand him food, and despite having a nicely carved six pack, I’ve never seen him exercise.
He’s not exactly the model figure for a healthy work-life balance.
“Sure, you know what they say.” I finally make eye contact. “Behind every man is a good woman waiting to carve out his spleen with his own blade.” I give him a wicked grin as I put my cards on the table.
He smirks at me, not yet looking down at the cards. “Patrick has always needed someone who isn’t afraid to push back. Or cut out his spleen, if the situation calls for it.”
Darragh is vibrating in his seat. “You keephim on his toes. It’s fucking glorious to watch. It’s about time, too.” He looks down at my cards, splayed out in a triumphant arc. “As is watching you play poker. You’re a fucking shark.”
Liam’s eyes widen when he sees that I’ve beaten his hand. He shakes his head as he slides the winnings across the table to me. “Going to give me a chance to take back my winnings?”
I’m already bundling up the notes. “Thanks.” I yawn. “But it’s past my bedtime. Maybe another night?”
Darragh nods, answering for his brother. “Absolutely. If I can’t take money from these fools, watching you do it is the next best thing. Feel free to join us every night.”
I laugh, feeling lighter, better for having spent some time with the three brothers I should hate right down to my very bone marrow. “Thank you.” I pocket the cash and say my goodnights before following the sound of Patrick’s voice to the library to tell him I’m heading upstairs to bed.Ourbed.
Warmth blooms in my chest.
Ours.
“What? No. She won’t be making the trip with me.”
I stop dead in my tracks, arm outstretched to push the door open beyond the sliver it’s been left ajar.
