Page 33 of Smoke Show

Somehow, I doubted that Gwen was thinking clearly when it came to Zander. He didn't seem like the kind of man who could be taken advantage of.

"Is that really how you remember it?" I asked, testing the waters.

Gwen snorted. "Alcohol was involved. I learned the hard way that liquor and my meds don’t mix. I don't remember our night at all. That's part of the problem."

I winced.

"Yeah, exactly. But the past is the past. Let's keep it there."

"To the future," I said, trying to hide my disbelief.

The past had a nasty way of rearing its head in the present. While I felt like I'd dealt with my demons, it sounded like Gwen was still wrestling with hers. The best thing I could do for her was be there, and listen when she needed a friend.

Chapter 13

Brady

IspentSundayfloatingthrough chores and the work I'd brought home before giving in and texting Eve. Even that wasn't enough, but I didn't want to seem overeager, asking her out again so soon.

Who was I kidding? I was overeager. On Monday, I'd counted down the minutes to play practice, then been distracted the entire damn time by her presence.

I'd grown used to seeing her almost every day, even if we were chaperoned by students. I'd miss her when the play was over. Shaking my head, I complained to Trouble. "Women. They get under your skin. Pretty soon, she's going to have me volunteering to direct a musical, just so I can see her more. Pathetic."

Slightly less pathetic was having mom ask her to Thanksgiving. My mom was usually so in tune with social cues, but she'd missed that one by a mile. Now, I had to figure out a way to invite Eve without sounding like my mom had put me up to it or forced me into it. Somehow, I doubted Eve would appreciate her heavy-handed matchmaking.

Rallying the guys for a Tuesday night poker game had seemed brilliant when I'd been mooning over Eve on Sunday. Filling the one night of the week I couldn't see her with a friendly game was a chance to get my head on straight. Which was why I, on a school night no less, was welcoming Cole, Ivan, and Zander into my kitchen. I'd even managed to entice Davis into joining us, prying him away from his beloved farm for the night.

Zander stuck his head in my fridge, emerging with a bowl of my famous pickle dip. The others shucked their jackets, claiming places around my kitchen table.

The very same kitchen table where I'd kissed Eve silly, clutching her to me like a starved man. Shifting to relieve the sudden tightness in my groin, I cleared my throat. "Can I get anyone a beer or something?"

"Sure," Cole said, surprising me. As the winemaker for Gentle Flight Winery, I'd half-expected him to bring a bottle of his own vintage. He usually turned up his nose at beer.

Zander and Ivan opted in to a beer as well, while Davis grabbed a glass from my cabinet and filled it at the tap.

I dealt the first hand, and we focused on our cards.

Ivan looked entirely relaxed, confidently sprawled in his chair, a toothpick between his teeth. Big and brawny, I was more used to see him coaching on the football field than in my kitchen, but he looked equally at ease in both.

Cole sat to his left, ironic since he was his right-hand man and assistant coach on the football field. Long and lanky, Cole looked more like a swimmer than a defensive coordinator, but he and Ivan made a great coaching team.

Zander glanced at his cards, raising to six dollars, and my brows arched. Usually more cautious, it was rare for him to come out of the gate with more than a call to match the big blind.

Davis rotated one of his chips in his fingers, expression vacant. But I wasn't fooled. He didn't say much, but the man had a head for numbers. He was no doubt calculating the odds of putting more money in before the flop.

After all the players had placed their bets, I burned a card, then dealt the flop. Betting continued until it was only Zander and Davis left in the river. Both checked, and Davis turned over his cards, revealing two pair, aces and threes. Zander groaned, tossing his cards down, and Davis raked in the chips.

"Now that the niceties are out of the way, and Davis has won half our money in the first round, why don't you tell us why you asked us over tonight?" Zander asked, tipping his beer bottle toward me.

"Ivan's going to be broke before you know it and start whining to go home to his wife. I'm half-convinced he threw his hand just to speed up the process."

"Hey," Ivan barked, flicking a potato chip at his brother. "You're just jealous."

"That you're losing your shirt tonight? That doesn't sound like me."

Ivan snorted. "No, you're jealous that I've got a sweet wife to go home to."

Zander pointed at him, smug. "Technically, since we all still live together, I'm going home to her too."

---