Throb(4)

For a few minutes the three of us catch up and reminisce about some of the old card games. I’m glad I came tonight. A night with these guys is just what I need. Good memories, cold beer, no talk about the looming union   strike aging me prematurely.

I crack a Bud and clink the bottle with Ben’s before taking a sip. Budweiser tastes like crap. I’d much rather be drinking the Heineken that Ben’s drinking—or a Stella from my fridge at home—but I’11never admit it to him. Some things are just part of tradition. “Where’s Grip?”

“Couldn’t make it tonight, wife’s sister had cataract surgery, so he took her up to Seattle to see her or some shit.”

“Ted filling in?”

“Nope.” Frank grins.

“Who’s playing the fourth?”

“Her.” Frank motions to the other side of the room, where a woman is carrying a case of beer. A case of damn Stellas.

“Hey, Frank.” The woman smiles and I almost drop my beer. And it’s not just because she’s drop-dead gorgeous. I can’t believe Frank’s letting a woman play.

“Really?” I say incredulously.

Frank smiles knowingly. “Really.”

“Never thought I’d see the day.” I shake my head.

“What?” The beautiful woman directs her question at me.

“You’re a woman.” I smile, shrugging my shoulders.

“I am?” Eyes wide, feigning surprise, she looks down and playfully pats her body. “Oh my god. I am.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“So a girl can play?” She’s petite, maybe only 5’4, the top of her head barely reaching my chest, but she squares her shoulders and dares me to respond. Oddly, I feel a little twitch in my pants when she challenges me.

“I don’t know, can you?” I decide to stop backpedaling and go on the offense, wanting to see her push back more.

“I can. Can you?” She arches one brow. Damn, it’s sexy. Another twitch.

“Guess you’ll find out,” I tease.

“All right, you two,” Frank breaks in. “Kate, this is Cooper and Ben.” She shakes my hand; her skin is so smooth and soft. Long, blonde, wavy hair loosely frames her pretty face. Unlike most women around this place, it’s almost makeup-free. A hint of pink color and gloss on her lips picks up the lights above. The way it reflects and shimmers has me staring at her full lips a bit too long. It’s an effort to drag my eyes away.

“Do you work at the studio? I haven’t seen you around,” I say curiously.

Frank speaks up before Kate. “Ben, smack this kid in the head, he’s forgetting the rules already.”

I actually did completely forget. No mention of work at all. It was my father’s favorite rule. After the studio started to take off, this hangar was the only place he could really relax and forget who he was for a while. Normally I’d love the rule too, but I find myself eager for a little background on the sexy woman tugging my errant cock from its self-imposed hibernation.

Kate smiles and shrugs.

Half an hour into the card game, she tosses a straight flush down on the table, just as I’m about to reach over my three aces and sweep the pot.

“You’ve got to be kidding me. Again?” I lean back and slump in my chair, defeated.

She smiles and pulls the heaping pile to her side of the table.

“Where’d you learn to play like that?” Ben asks her.

“My dad.”

“Dad’s a poker player, huh?”

“Ever hear of Freddy Monroe?” she asks casually while stacking her chips.

“Five-card Freddy? Sure. He always wore those diamond four-leaf clover cufflinks. He took the Texas Hold ’Em World Championship three times.”

“Four,” Kate corrects. Then adds sheepishly, “He’s my father. I’m a St. Patrick’s Day baby. He had the cufflinks made when I was born.”

Ben laughs and throws his hand in the air, looking at Frank. “You invited a shark to play with us?”

“I was playing solitaire one night when she was in the studio late. We played a few hands of rummy. She beat me twenty-two hands in a row. Figured I’d see if it was beginner’s luck.”

“It ain’t beginner’s luck,” Ben guffaws.

Two more hands and Ben and Frank fold again, leaving just Kate and me. My cards are shit, but I like the way she pushes back every time I raise the ante, so I just keep throwing good money after bad.

After my last raise, Kate brushes her thumb over the worn chip she’s kept at her side all night, looks down at her pot, then back to me, studying my face. I return the challenging stare. Her blue-green eyes squint ever so slightly as she tries to read what I’ve got sitting face-down on the table. For a second, she drops her gaze and lingers on my mouth before returning to my eyes. I have no idea what she sees, but something makes her smile. It’s slow and confident and she arches one eyebrow before she pushes her chips in. “Call.”