do we spark. Like the constant click of a lighter, just waiting to catch fire.
Now the smart thing here would be to remove myself from the situation, but I don’t waste too much energy ruminating on that option. I’m not that smart, and my impulses to self-destruct are far too strong with my resolve dulled from drinking.
Her fresh-cut-grass scent wafts in my direction and as she shifts, my gaze is drawn to her bare legs in cut-off shorts. She spent all night alone with Gabe in that skimpy faded denim and wisp of a top. It’s light blue, flowy with spaghetti straps, bringing out the blue-silver tones of her eyes. It’s the kind of top designed to let a man slip his fingers under the fabric in all sorts of interesting ways. Gabe got to enjoy the sight all evening. Shouldn’t I get to enjoy it for an hour?
It seems fair.
Bullshit, I know, but I’m not sure I care. The rum we’ve been drinking—a new blend Wyatt is experimenting with—warms my stomach and swells my confidence in my abilities to enjoy Cat’s company without succumbing to the temptation.
Next to me, she tucks one bare foot under her knee and her toes peek out from under her supple thigh. My first instinct is to press my leg against hers, but I catch myself before it’s too late and manage not to move.
As though she senses my heavy stare, her vision is fixed on the pile of chips in the center of the table. There’s a current of electricity racing back and forth between us, and I’m so focused on her, I’m surprised when I look down at my cards to find I’m holding three aces.
I glance around the table. “Is it my bet?”
Jackson and Wyatt both nod, and Gwen gives me a little wink. “Sure thing, cowboy.”
I grin at her. “This isn’t Texas, honey.”
Gwen waves her hand over the pot. “Are you betting or what?”
I glance back down at my hand, studying it like I’m contemplating my next move, as though not betting might be the smart option.
I call, slow-playing my hand, letting the chips fall where they may.
Two hours later, we’re all a little drunk when we decide to call it a night and face the prospect of an early morning with hangovers. Not that I’ll have one, other than being a bit bleary. I have the constitution of an ox.
Cat and I have basically ignored each other, not speaking except as part of the collective group. And despite my impulses, I’ve managed to treat her exactly as I should. I didn’t engage in any incidental flirting, or hold her gaze too long. It helps that we’re sitting next to each other instead of across. I don’t have to look into her eyes. But I’ve been aware—of her and the chemistry between us—every second.
It’s like the constant buzz of live wire.
We’re cleaning up the mess we made, and our hands touch as we push our chips to the center and everyone starts stacking. She jerks away like I’ve burned her, and I ignore it.
The chair scrapes, and she’s out of her seat, stretching, her arms high in the air. That flowy top of hers shifts and slides across her body. I look out the window and grit my teeth.
She lets out a yawn. “I am not looking forward to tomorrow morning.”
Gwen sighs. “Why do we do this again? Why can’t we have normal jobs and normal lives?”
“’Cause we’re gluttons for punishment,” Jackson reminds her.
“We’d probably be bored,” Wyatt says.
“I guess that’s true.” Gwen picks up her glass and drains what remains in one gulp. “I’m going to pay tomorrow when Nat wakes up at the crack of dawn, but I don’t care. It was worth it to blow off a little steam.”
“I can’t disagree, but ask me again tomorrow morning.” Wyatt clicks the metal case that stores the poker chips closed with a snap. “I’m off to bed.”
Cat barely looks in my direction. “I’m going to grab water and head off myself.”
Everyone calls out their goodnights, and Wyatt and Cat wander out of the room. I’m still putting the cards away, more slowly than is reasonable, when I should be getting the hell out of here instead.
Gwen grabs a handful of Jackson’s T-shirt and beams up at him. “I’m ready to let my wild ways get the best of me.”
Jackson snakes a hand around her waist. “You’ve been holding back, darlin’?”
“Never.” Gwen looks over his shoulder and says to me,