Irreparably Broken (Irreparable 1)

Taking a seat next to the guy in the hoodie, I wink, throw my money down, and collect my chips. He laughs and nods condescendingly to his friend. They don’t have any idea what’s coming. They assume I’m some drunk girl they’re about to take advantage of. I can’t wait to show them how wrong they are. Before the next hand is dealt, I hear a voice that sends shivers from the nape of my neck to the tips of my toes.

“I’m in,” Brady tells the dealer, tossing cash on the table and quirking an ill-behaved brow at me.

Shit! I’m an unbeatable poker player, unless I’m playing against the very shark who taught me how to play. Brady introduced both Liv and me to the game in our teens when he would let us sit in on games with his friends. Liv never quite got the hang of it, but I caught on immediately and after a while could beat most of Brady’s friends. I’ve spent countless hours in front of the mirror working on my poker face. Remembering the night I decided I was ready to challenge Brady, I smile. I was positive I could beat him. At fifteen, I brought every bit of allowance I’d earned to the table with me, along with all the confidence in the world. In a few short hands, Brady took every dime I had that night.

“You’re not going to keep all of my hard-earned allowance, are you, Brady?” I recall asking him.

“First lesson in gambling, Tori,” Brady had told me. “Never gamble that which you are not prepared to lose.” He’d scooped up every last coin from the table and left me fuming mad and vowing revenge.

Tonight, it’s finally time for a little retribution.

He slides a chair in next to me, and leans in close. He smells amazing, as he always does, sending my thoughts back to him kissing my neck up against the car earlier. I suddenly want to snatch Brady’s hand and take him somewhere private. Liv doesn’t need her money back, right?

“I hope you’ve been practicing, Victoria,” he says confidently, tossing me a haughty grin.

His arrogance, along with the provocative use of my first name, infuriates me. Nope, I’m not leaving. I’m staying here and wiping that superior look right off his gorgeous face.

“Oh, it’s on, Brady Hunter,” I promise, narrowing my eyes at him. He chuckles and glides his hand from my knee to my inner thigh. My body reacts instantly until I realize his touch is meant to distract me. “Keep your hand to yourself,” I whisper in his ear, pushing his hand away.

He groans and then winks at me.

As the game progresses, the weak play out after a few hands, followed by sunglasses guy, watch guy, and then finally the cat in the hoodie. Brady and I are the two remaining players, as I’d expected, and our chips are fairly even.

We’ve drawn quite a large crowd. People are behind us, chatting and making side bets. I glare at Brady through a few hands, never changing my expression no matter how many times he “unintentionally” brushes up against me. He’s winning every damn hand and is gloating very loudly. The next hand is dealt, and soft, warm lips are on mine. And they don’t belong to the man sitting next to me.

“A kiss for luck,” Harrison says after kissing me.

Brady’s whole body goes rigid, and I watch his jaw shifting back and forth. Liv’s eyes go wide, staring at her brother. To my surprise, Brady glowers at Harrison briefly but doesn’t punch him. I expected him to, and I know Harrison had better not try that again. I honestly fear for his safety if he does.

Brady folds up the corner of his cards, and for the first time since I started playing cards with him, I notice he has a tell. How in the hell did I miss it in all the games we’ve played together? Maybe it’s because I’m more in tune with his body now than I’ve been in the past. The corner of his lip definitely curled slightly – unless, of course, he wanted me to see so I would conclude he has a good hand. That has to be it. Brady doesn’t do anything unintentionally, especially when it comes to poker. I draw two cards, and Brady keeps the hand he was dealt.

After glancing at my cards quickly, I look up at him, straight-faced. It doesn’t matter what Brady has. The odds are in my favor with this one. “I’m all in,” I announce. The crowd cheers, and Brady looks amused. If he calls, it will cost him all of his chips and I will finally beat him.

“Interesting,” he murmurs, and leans back in his chair. His thumb is under his chin, and he taps his top lip with his index and middle finger alternately. His breathing remains calm and he keeps his eyes on me, waiting for me to give something away. I refuse to budge.

After several minutes watching Brady tap his lip, I can’t take it anymore. “Just make a decision already.”

Looking right through me with those piercing green eyes, he says, “I call.” Laying down his cards, he smiles cheekily.

When I look down at Brady’s hand, there are three tens and two jacks

.

“Full house, Sunshine. Better luck next time.”

I sit up straight and confident. “Nice hand, but my hearts beat your full house. Read ’em and weep.” Pride pours out of me as I lay down my cards face up, five through nine, all hearts. “Straight flush, baby. Pay up!” I dance in my seat, I’m so happy.

While everyone is clapping and paying off side bets, Brady’s hand inches up my thigh. He leans in close to my ear and whispers, “Oh, I plan to pay up later, Tori.”

“Why wait? Let’s get out of here,” I suggest brazenly, nodding toward the parked cars.

Harrison leans down right in between me and Brady to hug me. “Tori, that was awesome.”

Harrison stands back up, and I look at Brady, who mouths, Take care of him first.

I stand, and at the exact moment I start to say the words to Harrison, a guy jumps up on the table, announcing it’s time to call numbers for the couples race to kick off the jet racing. He’s speaking through a megaphone, so having a conversation with Harrison right here is out of the question.

I dig around in my pocket for the slip of paper with my number on it, even though I remember it’s 37. The guy calls the couple for the first race, numbers 23 and 58. Two people I have never met come over and give the guy their numbers. He hands them wetsuits. The guy pulls a number for the next couple; the guy is 11.