Quinn sighed, “I need to talk to you about your sist-” but then stopped speaking abruptly when he lifted his gaze to me.
His features, shaping into something resembling dumbfounded astonishment, were cast in a warm glow from a shaded nearby lamp.
He looked earnestly surprised and a little boyish. Smash, smash, smash.
His mesmerizing eyes narrowed as they looked over my now completely covered form, the only skin showing was that of my face and hands. If I’d been thinking clearly and sober I might have felt ridiculous; instead, as I was most definitely not thinking clearly and was most definitely not sober, I was cursing myself for leaving my gloves in Chicago and I was looking for my glasses.
He shifted on his feet, stuffed his hands in his pockets, and studied me with open and growing amusement; “Are you going somewhere?”
I swallowed and tried to shrug but the movement was lost under the layers of clothing, “Yes.” I lifted my chin, feeling suddenly hot which reminded me of how hot it was outside… even at 9:30pm; I then quickly amended, “No.” I lowered my hands from the hat on my head and tugged at the sleeves of the jacket, “I haven’t decided.”
He tilted his head just so, his mouth tugging upward on one side and slowly, slowly, slowly started crossing to me, like he was stalking prey, like he was afraid sudden movements might send me into another tornado of movement. “Where were you thinking of going?”
“To gamble.” I blurted. It was the only thing I could think of in my slightly imbibed state as we were in Las Vegas and we were staying at a world infamous casino.
“Really?” He asked conversationally, like I was telling him about a good bargain down at the Save A Lot. “What were you thinking of playing?”
“Poker.” I wanted to cross my arms over my chest but, due to clothing and boobs and lack of coordination, I encountered too much bulk; my movements were restricted.
“Poker.” He nodded once, holding me in place with a clearly skeptical if not entertained expression. “Is it very cold? This place where you’re going to play poker?”
Without me really noticing he’d crossed the room. I felt like one moment Quinn was at the far side by the window and the next moment he was standing directly in front of me, no more than three feet of air, and clothes, separated us.
“N-no. Not necessarily. I just wanted to be prepared.”
“Prepared for artic temperatures?”
“Prepared for any eventuality.”
“Like what? Poker in a freezer?”
“Like strip poker.” I said the words before my brain thought them and, due to his proximity, I saw something the opposite of calm flash behind his eyes. I chewed on my top lip to ensure I didn’t say anything else; I knew my own eyes were overtly large and watchful and repentant for the most recent movements and sounds of my mouth.
Quinn swallowed, his expression less teasing but no less intense; “We could-” his gaze flickered to my lips then lifted to settle on my forehead, “we could play strip poker here.”
CHAPTER 19
My overtly large eyes widened further and I blinked several times in rapid succession, “I- I- I-“ I reached for something to hold on to and ended up leaning against the wall behind me, “I can’t- we can’t do that.”
“But you’ll play strip poker with strangers?” He seemed to be studying me very closely.
“Well, yeah-” this was a strange conversation to be having as I was speaking both in the theoretical and the literal. Theoretically, I’d play strip poker with strangers, depending on the circumstances and the strangers, but I had no literal intention of doing so.
Quinn quickly countered, “And if I happened to be playing poker- strip poker- at the only table in the casino, would you still play?”
I hesitated, feeling like I was being led into a trap that involved Quinn getting naked... which actually sounded really nice. I reluctantly said, “No.”
“Why?”
“Because… I- you’re you.” I congratulated myself for not slurring the words even as sweat was beading on my chest and upper back.
“Do you trust me?”
“Sometimes.”
“Sometimes?” He lifted his eyebrows just slightly in challenge, his voice lower, “Haven’t I always been honest?”
“You’ve been technically honest.”
“Do you think I’d ever hurt you?”
His questions were rapid fire and the way he looked at me paired with my self-imposed heat-suit and questionable drinking alone policy made me a lot dizzy.
I hesitated again then said, “I don’t know.”
He frowned at my response but didn’t relent, “Don’t you think everyone deserves a chance?”