Love, Laughter, and Happily Ever Afters Collection (134 page)

She dialed Phoebe as soon as she was safely in her car heading away from Hailey.

“Mission Keep Hailey Away From Mason is a go,” she said. “I’m totally in. In fact, I’m captain of the freakin’ team.”

CHAPTER FIVE

THE POKER GAME was a Tuesday night tradition, but Hailey had talked Drew into hosting a game on Friday for the alumni group. The guys had played poker on Saturday nights in high school and she’d felt it would be another way to get them all together and feeling nostalgic.

The invitation had garnered enough interest that there were two tables of players tonight, one in Drew’s kitchen and one set up in the living room. Drew wasn’t married and didn’t currently have a girlfriend, so Hailey had offered to clean the house, help provide snacks and act as hostess. Which meant that Phoebe and another friend, Jill, had cleaned while Adrianne cooked. The four women were supposed to play waitresses together, but the three were secretly plotting how to get back at Hailey as they worked.

“Guess it’s just you and me,” Phoebe said, bringing a bag of ice in from Drew’s deep freeze in the garage.

“What’s that mean?” Adrianne asked with a scowl. She didn’t mind making appetizers. She didn’t mind entertaining. She didn’t mind dusting—even if it was a bachelor’s house and they’d had to bring their own dusting spray. But she hadn’t seen Hailey yet and if she wasn’t coming…

“Hailey’s not feeling well and I told Jill to take off, that we could handle it.”

Adrianne had been planning on sending Jill home anyway. She had two little kids and it was ridiculous that Hailey had talked her into coming in the first place. “What’s wrong with Hailey?”

Phoebe waved her hand. “Oh, some allergic reaction.”

Adrianne paused in mixing the salmon dip and looked at her friend. “What did you do?”

“Me?” Phoebe looked offended. Or tried to. “Matt did it,” she finally admitted.

Adrianne groaned. “What did he do?” It occurred to her after she asked that it might be easier if she didn’t know.

“A little cat hair in her face powder.”

Adrianne thought about that, but it didn’t make sense. “Why?”

“She’s allergic to cats.”

Adrianne sighed. “That’s mean.”

“Her eyes will water and she’ll sneeze a few times. She’ll live,” Phoebe said, clearly unconcerned.

Adrianne frowned suspiciously. “Then why isn’t she here?”

“Relax. She’s a little puffy and bloodshot. A few blotches. It’s fine. It will settle down by—about the time the game’s over.”

“Convenient,” Adrianne muttered.

Men started showing up in clusters, and Adrianne felt her chest getting tighter and tighter, anticipating Mason’s arrival. Every time the door opened or a knock sounded, she jumped a little. But it was never him. And her growing disappointment was ridiculous. Maybe he didn’t play poker. Actually, once she thought about it, she was pretty sure Mason didn’t play poker.

Maybe he was in his room at the B&B working. Maybe he was working some magic with the formulas he’d figured out and scribbled on her arm that morning.

With that thought, her whole body got tingly and she felt the need to do jumping jacks or run a lap around the house to get rid of some of the energy she felt coursing through her.

That made the most sense though. Surely Mason Riley, world-renowned agricultural specialist, would rather be working than playing cards.

Adrianne had just taken the spinach and artichoke dip out of the oven and finished arranging the pita bread triangles—knowing full well that the guys would have been fine with chips and bean dip—when the doorbell rang and she heard Drew call, “Come on in, Mason, it’s open!” through the screen door.

Her whole body reacted to the sound of his name.

Crazy.

A moment later, Mason was escorted into the kitchen and to a seat at the table with Drew and the other regular players. Mason probably didn’t realize it, Adrianne thought, but being given a seat at that table meant he was a VIP.

They made eye contact across the room. She was at the kitchen island behind the breakfast bar and he was near the patio door, but they looked at each other at the same moment and she felt it clear to her toes.

He gave her a warm smile and she was stupidly glad he was here instead of working in his room. The world would be a better place if he was working in his room. But her world was a better place at the moment because he was here.

She’d feel guilty about that later.

She headed for the table with drinks. Beer for all the guys but Mason. She’d known them all long enough to know that was their drink of choice and it didn’t matter what kind as long as it wasn’t light. “What can I get you, Mason?”

She wondered if that sounded suggestive to him. It did to her and she was the one who’d said it.

“Anything I want?” he asked.

That also sounded suggestive. It was probably just her.

“I’ll do my best.”

“Butterscotch schnapps?”

She straightened from setting Tim’s beer down and looked at Mason, warmth curling through her. Okay, it wasn’t just her. “Or maybe something cinnamon flavored?” she asked. She had gum in her purse. He simply had to say the word.

“Very tempting,” he answered.

No kidding.

“What the hell are you talking about?” Drew asked her. “I’ve got beer and soda. No sissy schnapps.” He glanced at Mason. “No offense.”

“You don’t know what you’re missing,” Mason told him, taking his chair.

“I’ve got tequila if you want to do shots,” Drew offered. “But I better warn you, this poker thing is fun but serious. You lose, you lose. No blaming it on the liquor.”

“Got it,” Mason said with a nod. He looked up at Adrianne, humor in his eyes. “Guess I’d better stick to soda. For now anyway.”

She grinned and headed for the fridge. She knew the poker games went late, but they did end at some point. At some point, Mason would be done here—and maybe in the mood for schnapps.

Adrianne didn’t even have to try to linger near Mason’s table over the next half hour. Phoebe was focusing on the table in the living room, leaving Adrianne to see to the needs in the kitchen.

Their plates were refilled before they asked and their drinks never got completely empty.

She felt Mason watching her every move. Every time she looked at him, he seemed to sense it and look up as well. She was sure it was her imagination, but it seemed that every time their gazes locked, there was more heat as well. It was driving her crazy. So she figured it was only fair he feel a little crazy too.

Every time she got close to him, she made a point of touching him. At first, she made contact with her hip against his upper arm. The next time, she put a hand on his shoulder as she set the popcorn bowl down. The next time, she chose his side of the table and leaned in to put the nachos in the middle, making sure her breast pressed into his shoulder blade—and making sure to pause long enough for him to know what it was that was pressed into his shoulder blade.

As she lingered, she took note of the actual poker game for the first time that night. She had played with these guys before, and while the games were usually more of a break from home and a chance to hear themselves talk, the guys always played for real money. It was one of the unwritten rules. If you didn’t have the cash to put up, don’t show up. There were definitely winners and losers here.

As Tim dipped into the nacho chips, Adrianne noticed the distribution of the other chips around the table. One thing was quite clear. Mason was losing big.

She grabbed Drew’s empty bottle and replaced it with another while she listened to the bidding going around. Mason met and raised on his turn. When she grabbed another can of soda for him, she peeked at his cards.

He had nothing.

She felt his eyes on her face and looked to find him watching her. Maybe he was as distracted as she was. If so, it was costing him—seriously.

Hmm.

She listened for a few more minutes and it took her only half that time to figure out that Mason was either losing on purpose or had no idea what he was doing.

She heard a phone ring in the other room and an idea occurred to her.

Her purse was in the bedroom and she slipped down the hall without being noticed and quickly dialed Drew’s home number from her cell—thankfully, he was too cheap to have caller ID. It rang three times and she heard chairs move on the kitchen floor.

“I’m heading for the can,” Tim called.

Adrianne hung up and waited for Tim to shut the bathroom door before she headed back for the kitchen. The phone call had succeeded in breaking up the game for a bit and Adrianne found Mason and motioned him to the corner of the kitchen that had no food or drink and therefore no other people. “Can you reach that pitcher for me?” she asked, loud enough for everyone to hear, pointing to the cupboard above the fridge.

He stretched up, the position pulling his shirt tight across his stomach and chest. “Which one?”

“You know, if you’re losing on purpose to make them happy, you need to not lose quite so badly. It would be more convincing to win at least a hand or two,” she said, pointing to the blue pitcher. “And you don’t want them to know you’re letting them win. That will piss them off.”

“What do you need the pitcher for?”

She took it from him and set it to one side. “I don’t. I needed to talk to you. Because I don’t think you’re losing on purpose. Am I right?”

“I don’t really care that I’m losing.”

“Answer the question, Mason.”

“No, I’m not losing on purpose.”

“So you actually suck.”

Mason opened his mouth, but seemed to reconsider whatever he’d been about to say. “Yes. I actually suck. At poker, anyway.”

“Here, will you put this back up there?” She handed him the pitcher. “Have you ever played?”

“No.”

Adrianne glanced at him and fought a smile at the disgruntled look on his face. “Never?”

“Never wanted to.” He stretched to replace the pitcher.

“Then why are you playing tonight?”

He shrugged. “They asked.”

She rolled her eyes but also understood. Mason had never been included in group stuff with the guys in his class in Sapphire Falls. The invitation to do something with them now had likely been too tempting.

“Okay. But you’re going broke,” she pointed out.

“I don’t mind losing the money,” he said.

“Well, you’re losing respect too.” Adrianne pointed to a clear glass pitcher. “Grab me that one.”

“I’m losing respect?”

“They won’t let you play anymore if you keep this up. They like to win and they like to brag, but beating the worst poker player in the history of the world isn’t much to brag about.”

Mason reached for the pitcher, saying nothing.

She took it from him. “Okay, so I’m going to help you win a couple. Or all of them if you want to.”

“How?”

“We’ll cheat.”

He lifted an eyebrow.

“Oh, come on,” she said. “Drew and Roy would both cheat you in a heartbeat given the chance. And you’ve basically handed them over a hundred dollars of your money by now. This is you getting your own money back.”

He looked amused as he took the pitcher and put it back in the cupboard without being asked.

“You ready for the plan?” she asked.

“There’s a plan?”

“If we’re going to cheat effectively without them catching us, we need a plan,” she said. “But it has to be simple.”

“The gist, I would imagine, is that you’re going to walk around behind the guys, pretending to wait on all of us while looking at their cards.”

She smiled. “You really are a genius.”

Mason laughed and Adrianne felt a warmth curl through her that made her want to make him laugh again.

“We’ll need signals I suppose,” he said.

She nodded, grinning like an idiot. This sounded like fun. She was counting on Mason’s superior memory and ability to process things quickly. “I’ll press my lips together to take one card, yawn for two and cough for three.” She pointed to the silver studs in her earlobes. “If I touch one it means raise.”

Mason rolled his eyes.

“If I drop something it means fold.”

“What if you drop something accidentally?” he asked.

“I won’t. I’m very graceful,” she returned with a little sass that made him smile wider and made her grin right back. “I’ll touch the shoulder of the guy with the best hand.”

“I’d rather lose all my money than have you get too friendly with any of the other guys,” Mason said.

From his tone, Adrianne thought maybe he was only partially kidding. The idea that he might get jealous made her want to climb up on his lap and reassure him that he was the one she wanted.

“You’d better get back to your game,” she said, trying to keep from kissing him.

“Here, you better end up with one after all of this in case someone’s taking notes.” He pulled a yellow plastic pitcher from the cupboard and handed it to her.

What the hell did Drew need with all these pitchers?

“I look forward to our partnership,” he said, making
partnership
sound sexual.

He gave her a wink and sauntered back toward the table.

Adrianne waited two minutes and followed with the pitcher full of Drew’s tequila and orange juice and a stack of cups.

As she made her way around the table with the drinks, she avoided eye contact with Mason but she did pay attention to his hand of cards, and everyone else’s.

She gave Mason two signals, one to take two cards and then to raise. She rested her hand on his shoulder as she leaned in to pick up some empty glasses from the middle of the table, telling him that he now held the highest hand in spite of Drew’s bluffing. She let her hand stay for a moment, enjoying the warmth and strength of him, considering it a perk of the favor she was doing for him.

Mason won the hand, and she hid her smile so as not to tip the rest of the men off to their ruse. They were surprised enough that he’d won.

Adrianne allowed Mason to lose the next hand so no one would get suspicious and ignored the frown he gave her.