Hiring Mr. Darcy - Valerie Bowman Page 0,37
“I’ve got these,” I said.
“I’ll put the wine back in the fridge then,” he offered.
“Oh, great, be all gentlemanly and stuff and make me look bad,” Luke moaned. He nodded toward the door where Ellie had disappeared. “Why do you think Hoffman is such a tight-ass?”
I blinked. “You’re asking me, the ultimate tight-ass, why my best friend is a tight-ass?”
“You’re not a tight-ass,” Jeremy chimed in from the kitchen.
“You don’t know her well enough,” Luke called. “Or you’d know she’s totally a tight-ass.”
“Ellie didn’t seem like a tight-ass either,” Jeremy said.
“Look, Remington, I know my sister’s your boss and all for the next couple of weeks, but there’s no reason to get all brown-nosey,” Luke said grumpily.
Jeremy came strolling back in from the kitchen. “I threw away the pizza box and wiped off the counter tops.”
I put the back of one hand against my forehead. “Be still my heart.”
Luke scowled at both of us. “Okay, I’ve had enough of this Regency gentleman act for one night. I’m going to bed. Let’s just say whist isn’t my game.” He took the stairs up to the guest bedroom two at a time.
I was left alone in the darkened living room with Jeremy with my apple-scented candle flickering on the coffee table. “Thanks for cleaning up,” I said hesitantly, trying to remember a time when Harrison had ever helped clean up at my place. He’d cleaned up his own, of course, but I couldn’t remember him ever pitching in to help me. It was part of our relationship-of-equals thing. But I had to admit it was nice to have a man pitch in without being asked.
“Thanks for the beer and pizza and the whist.” Jeremy gestured toward the door. “I’d better get going.”
“Yep.” I walked with him to the foyer. “Thanks for coming tonight,” I said as he opened the front door. Why was I reluctant to see him go?
“It’s my job,” he replied with a smile.
“Yeah, of course, but it still feels as if you’re doing me a favor.”
His eyes gleamed in the shadowy foyer. “I had fun.”
“You did?”
“Yeah, I like cards, and an old game is just as good as a new one.”
There it was, his fatal flaw. I mean, I already knew he and Luke played poker together, but for all I knew, he lived in a shanty, unable to make rent due to his untenable gambling addiction. Luke usually won at poker so that meant Jeremy must lose. No wonder he needed five thousand dollars.
“So, you really love to gamble, eh?” I said.
“What?” The pleasure in his expression faded. “Where did you hear that?”
I nervously stuck my fingers in the back pockets of my jeans. “Well, I mean...you and Luke?”
“Have poker night once a week. That’s it.”
One night a week was plenty to lose your shirt. Plus, addicts were always in denial about how often they actually played.
I rocked back and forth on my safely sock-covered feet. “Oh, only once a week?”
He must have heard the skepticism in my voice. “Yes, and did Luke tell you what we usually play for?”
“I know Luke pays his bills with the earnings.”
“Luke doesn’t have any bills. He takes the bus and lives with whoever will take him in.”
Hmm. The man had a point.
“The only other thing Luke needs money for is pizza. And beer. And that’s what we play for. Winner doesn’t have to pay for the pizza and the beer.”
I scrunched up my nose. “Really? That’s it?”
He crossed his arms over his chest and regarded me down the length of his nose. “Really. That’s it. Sometimes he and some of the other guys keep playing for money but I’m long gone by then.”
Very well. Perhaps my overactive imagination had been at work thinking of Luke and Jeremy strung out at the poker games, drinking and smoking with red-rimmed eyes, refusing to stop until dawn.
“And you only play once a week?” I asked doubtfully.
“Luke does. I play less than that. Friday night is usually when I go to the retirement home with my dog. They love him there. Seems to cheer them up.”
“Oh,” I said lamely. So far from being a rampant gambler, this guy preferred to spend his Friday nights at the old folks’ home with a friendly volunteer dog.
Jeremy leaned his hip against the open door. If the circumstances had been different and I hadn’t just made a complete ass of myself, this would feel an awful lot like the end of a date, and the perfect time for a...kiss.