Fated Magic (Claimed by Wolves #1) - Callie Rose Page 0,60
I’m too overwhelmed by emotion to answer.
I really don’t want to start crying just because they asked me to play cards with them though; they already know I’m an emotional mess, but at some point, they’re gonna start thinking I’m straight-up crazy.
So I clear my throat to buy an extra second to collect myself, then glance at Ridge. “I don’t know how to play.”
“Well, that’s easy enough to fix.” He smiles down at me, then jerks his head toward the back of the cabin. “Come on. We can use the table in the kitchen.”
I get up and follow the guys into the little kitchen, a little thrill of excitement running through me. Ridge and Trystan light a few candles to keep the gathering darkness at bay while Dare and Archer give me a run-down on how poker works.
To be honest, nothing they say makes any sense to me. Archer tries to break it down into manageable pieces, but Dare keeps throwing in his own two cents, and they’re using words like “big blind,” “flop,” and “river,” none of which make any sense to me.
When they finish their explanation and find me staring at them like I’m still waiting for them to start, Archer chuckles. “Maybe we should play a few rounds open-handed. We can guide you through it and you can see what we’re talking about.”
I blink. “You’d do that? You wouldn’t mind?”
“Of course not.” He smiles, his blue eyes warm. “We can play that way all night. I don’t think any of us really care.”
I half-expect Trystan to snort at that. I saw the competitive gleam in his eye when Ridge first suggested poker, and I have a feeling he was looking forward to trying to kick the other men’s asses at the game. But no objection comes, and when I glance his way, he pats the seat next to him, inviting me over.
A new wave of feeling rises in my chest. These men are all so patient with me, about big things and little things—and I know it’s not because they’re patient people in general.
It’s because of me.
Because they care about me.
I still don’t quite know how to handle that, and the parts of me that my uncle left battered and broken still don’t quite believe it. But these four shifter men prove it through their actions day after day, and I hope someday I really can trust that this is all real.
Ridge deals the first hand, and the guys talk me through the rules and strategy as we begin to play open-handed. The things Archer and Dare were saying make a lot more sense when I can see them with my own eyes, and I ask a lot of questions, absorbing everything I can.
We play two rounds like that, and I think the men really would be content to play this way all night. They seem to be getting as much enjoyment out of teaching me as they do out of the game itself. Trystan grins widely as he explains what “tells” are and how to look for them, and Dare flips him off when Trystan points out that he has a terrible poker face.
It’s actually kind of true. Dare can be stoic and hard-edged, and I can’t always tell what he’s thinking. But I rarely have a hard time guessing what he’s feeling. He wears his emotions on his sleeve, and they radiate out from him like a palpable aura.
“Okay. I think I’m ready,” I say as Archer shuffles the deck. “We can play a real round if you want.”
“You sure?” He glances up at me, candlelight warming his green eyes.
“Yeah.”
I grin, scooting my chair a little closer to the table. Truthfully, I’m still not sure I understand everything about this game. There are a lot of bits I’m a little fuzzy on, but I want to try playing a regular game.
“All right.” Archer grins at me, then deals the cards face down.
We start to play, and I immediately realize I’ve made a mistake. I thought I had a handle on this game, but now that I’m trying to strategize on my own, I feel a little out of my depth again.
So I focus on what Trystan told me about tells and study each of the men gathered around the table with me, trying to guess whether they’ve got a good hand. I can at least do that, even if I don’t quite remember whether my hand is good or bad.