Page 2 of Poker
And dammit if my panties don’t start to melt.
Several of Poker’s brothers trickle in throughout the rest of my shift, and I don’t get a chance to talk to him much more. That’s fine, though, because I’ve got other things to worry about.
Like how to make more money.
Again, I come back to the poker games. Surely, I could do something like that, even in a small town like Marble Falls, Texas. The problem is, I don’t want to be like my dad. If I were to run poker games, I’d do it differently.
“Last call!” Grady shouts sometime later.
By the time I’m heading home, my feet are killing me, but I’m not as worried about my future as I was earlier.
I’ve got a plan.
CHAPTER1
POKER
I don’t have anything to stop me from going down that rabbit hole of fantasy.
Present day…
“Hey, baby.”
I frown at Kitty, the Bangin’ Betty who currently has her hand down the front of my pants. When she was walking toward me, I tried to avert my eyes, but she doesn’t know how to take a hint. I grab her by the wrist and yank her hand free of my jeans.
“Not interested,” I snarl.
She stares up at me from beneath her fake eyelashes and pouts. “Since when, baby?”
Good question.
“Does it matter?” I counter, my brow arched dangerously high.
Sensing my annoyance, Kitty slowly backs away with her hands up. “Yeah, yeah, okay. But don’t come cryin’ to me later when your balls are blue.”
With that, she spins on her heel and stalks toward the corner where several of my brothers are shooting the shit. That’s the thing with Kitty… She doesn’t give a rat’s ass whose dick she rides, as long as the owner of said dick has a patch.
Soulless King MC patches might as well be a pussy magnet, they work so well.
“You feeling okay?”
I glance over my shoulder to see Screamer staring at me like I’ve got two heads.
“Yeah, why?”
His eyes dart across the room to Kitty before settling back on me. “I don’t remember the last time you turned down that cunt,” he says.
I shrug. “Like I told her, not interested.” Bring my beer bottle to my lips, I ignore the warmth of the liquid and down the remainder in one long gulp.
“Since when?” my brother asks.
Slamming the empty bottle onto the bar, I wave at Jimmy, the prospect bartending at the clubhouse tonight, signaling him to get me another.
“Jesus, what do you care?”
“Don’t care,” Screamer states. “But it’s weird, and I don’t like weird.”
“I’m fine, brother,” I say with a sigh. “Just not in the mood to fuck is all.”
