I’m unable to part my lips. I don’t know how to tell her about the lie that I’m caught up in.
“Mindy!” Bri cracks.
“Mindy!” Rafe echoes, pointing at me.
Just say it!
Closing my eyes, I take a deep breath. And when I open them, I finally ask, “Know any hot guys named Harold?”
Chapter 2
Oliver
“Pair of aces,” I announce with a grin, turning my cards over on the wooden table and gathering the pot from the middle of the table in one giant swoop. “Bend over, buddy. Your ass is mine.”
“Fuck, man!” Jason Woods, a twenty-four-year-old friend and fellow businessman yells, slapping his hand down on the table with enough force to cause some of my chips to go flying off, his face an angry red. “That’s the second fucking time you called my bluff,” he complains.
I sit back in my seat and appraise him, hiding a smirk. Jason’s not a good poker player. He’s okay when he’s winning, but whenever he starts losing or is under pressure, I can read him like a book. With his tells, I can easily see if he’s bluffing or if he has a good hand.
“He’s a lucky bastard,” Kevin White, another buddy of mine in his early thirties who’s sitting beside me, agrees. Shaking his head, he rolls back the sleeves of his white dress shirt, his blonde hair glinting against the single light hanging above our heads. Having lost nearly all night, he’s not as pissed as Jason is. But then again, Kevin never gets that pissed about anything. I bet he could lose his life savings and his reaction would be mild.
“Sorry, boys,” I say with a grin and then joke, “I taught Phil Ivey everything he knows.”
Jason lets out a derisive snort. “Dude, you’re so full of shit. Your whole game is about sitting there with that cocky smirk on your face and getting lucky on the river.”
I huff out a short laugh. “Don’t hate. A win’s a win.”
“And a dick’s a dick,” Jason snarls.
“Hey, hey, now,” Gavin Adams says sternly from across the table, shaking his head at Jason. Dressed all in black, he looks like the dark knight with golden hair as he scowls. “Let’s not. We all know Oliver’s good. We’re all grown men here. There’s no reason to get pissed when we lose. This is like the third time you’ve popped off after a loss, and it’s getting old.”
Gavin’s words seemed to calm Jason at once. “You’re right.” He barely looks my way as he adds, “Sorry, Oliver. Tired of losing, that’s all.”
As a former football star and kind of a celebrity, Gavin has more clout with the friends in our circle. No matter how wrong he might be, they almost always agree with whatever he says. It’s a nice perk, but it’s got to get old with everyone being fake around you. I’d rather someone give it to me straight.
I toss Gavin an imperceptible nod of thanks, though I think I could’ve handled the situation just fine myself.
“All good,” I tell Jason. “No offense taken.”
“Yeah, cause you have my money,” Jason mutters under his breath, but I pretend I don’t hear it.
“Glad y’all got that out the way. Now can we fucking play?” Kevin says.
The blood rushes through my veins at his words, Jason’s anger quickly forgotten. Looking at my stash, I rub my palms together in anticipation. “Let’s do it.”
I love playing poker and taking risks. The higher the stakes, the bigger the rush.
Rock climbing, sky diving, martial arts, poker . . . if there’s a real risk involved, I want a taste of it. It hasn’t always been this way, though.
As an executive at Steele Pharmaceuticals, I never wanted for cash. My father was the CEO and owner, and I was his right-hand man. I could have and do anything I wanted. But with that position of power came a fuck ton of stress . . . along with a lot of disagreements. The stress and the arguing got so bad that I eventually sold all of my shares of the company and quit after my seven-year tenure, leaving my Dad to run the company by himself.
My father was furious with me over my move. He thought my leaving at the height of our success was a huge slap in the face. But I couldn’t help myself. If I’d stayed there any longer, we would’ve ended up at each other’s throat and hating each other. I didn’t want it to be that way, so I left.
A year later, I have a net worth of over ten million, living the small-town life. I even own a small home a few blocks down from my mother when I could be living large. It’s been quite an adjustment for someone so used to the city. But it’s nice to be able to help my mom, a poor single woman who chose not to accept a red cent from my wealthy father when they got divorced.