Page 57 of Lucky Shot
“Oooh.” I smile at the two aces. I don’t know much about poker, but I think I remember aces being good.
“First rule of poker,” Nick says, reaching over and dragging my chair closer to him. My skin prickles at the heat of him beside me. “Learning how to keep a poker face.”
His arm brushes mine and I move my leg, so our knees don’t knock under the table.
“Right.” I force my lips into a neutral line. “Better?”
Nick’s gaze drops to my mouth, lingering a beat before he looks away.
“Yep,” he says in his usual gruff, annoyed tone.
Around the table, the men glance at their cards, then place them on the table facedown. I do the same.
On my left, Penn tosses in a chip.
“Should I do that too?” I ask Nick.
“No. We already did. He’s the big blind.”
I raise a brow in question.
“The big blind is two seats to the left of the dealer. The small blind is one seat to the left. They have to put in forced bets before seeing their cards. We don’t.”
“Got it,” I say with confidence, filing away the information. Maybe it’s my inherent personality or maybe it’s something about wanting to prove myself to Nick, but I am determined to be an A-plus student. “What kind of hand would I fold?”
It seems like the most logical question, but the way Nick’s shoulders lift and fall in a sigh, you’d think I asked why the sky is blue.
“Let me guess.” I grin at him. “It depends?”
He lets out a surprised chuckle that transforms his face. “Exactly.”
We play several rounds. I learn terms like bet, raise, call, and fold—all fairly self-explanatory. And ones that make less sense like “river” and “boat.” Once we get going, Nick is more patient with me than I expect, sort of like he is with the kids at camp.
It’s hard to be stealthy and talk out our hand without the others overhearing. I lean in close enough that his scent wraps around me. Fabric softener and sandalwood. It’s nice.
It’s our deal. Nick hands me the cards. I grin as I take them. I’ve shuffled cards before, but it has been a long time, and I’ve never done it the way they are.
“Place your hands like this.” He sets his over mine and adjusts until I’m in the right position. The size of his big hands next to mine is striking.
“Everything is so secretive in poker,” I say as I attempt to shuffle so that no one can see the cards.
His lips quirk up higher on one side. “That’s what makes it fun. You have to read the players.”
“Can you read me?” I ask the group as I deal.
Mike grins. “You’re a wildcard, sweetheart.”
“What does that mean?” I ask, expecting another poker phrase that I’ll need to add to my overflowing dictionary of terms. This game has a lot of rules.
“Some players, especially new ones, are easy to read, but they don’t tend to act in the way a more seasoned player would,” Danny says.
“Easy to read their cards, but hard as hell to play against,” Travis adds with a frown. He tosses his cards onto the table. “I fold. Ruby-Doo was grinning too big when she looked at her cards.”
Oops. I school my expression back into serious mode, then think back to seeing a poker tournament on TV once. I glance up at the hat on Nick’s head.
I lean closer to him. His brows inch higher as my shoulder brushes his chest.
“Give me your hat,” I whisper, though not quietly enough that the others don’t hear.
