“Mom,” Hayden said with exasperation.
“No ma’am. No betting,” Kane said. “This is strictly for fun.”
“Then count me out,” Dash said.
Three sets of eyes zoomed to the family patriarch.
“After I teach Hayden, I’d be up for a game or two with real stakes,” Kane offered.
“Poker or blackjack?” Dash asked.
“How about a little of both? With a side of Texas Hold ’Em just to make it interesting?”
Dash smirked. “I’ll get my wallet.”
After Dash disappeared into his bedroom, Kane lowered his voice. “Level with me. Is your grandpa any good at cards?”
Hayden shrugged. “He’s always talking about playing cribbage for a quarter a point at the senior center.”
“Does he win?”
“All the time. You should see the jars of quarters in his room.”
Kane groaned. “I do believe I’ve been had.”
Ginger grinned.
For the next hour, they convened around the kitchen table. Kane was extremely patient in teaching Hayden the basics. He didn’t criticize his choices nor did he offer him false praise. He explained.
The most entertaining aspect was watching her father and Kane measuring each other, gauging their opponent’s skill level, trying to figure out each other’s tells.
Ginger called a halt to the card competition so they could eat supper.
Again Kane wouldn’t let her do anything. He made her sit as he heated up the soup. Between the four of them they finished the pot. Hayden flopped on the living room rug with his Lego set. He could amuse himself for hours. Ginger counted herself lucky her son was such an easygoing kid.
They’d conned Ginger into playing banker for the McKay versus Paulson card tournament. Both Kane and her father bought in with twenty-five bucks worth of poker chips.
Despite the throbbing in her shoulder, Ginger gritted her teeth, determined not to take a pain pill. She propped her cast on an extra chair and sipped a glass of water.
Watching Kane deal kept her focus on his hands. Long fingers, thick in width, but surprisingly nimble with big, rough-skinned knuckles. Little spots of black hair dotted the backs, above his wrists. She imagined those masculine hands caressing her body. The deftness of his fingers moving inside her. The coarseness of his calluses dancing across her skin. The sheer size of his palms on her br**sts or spanning her hips.
“Ginger?”
Startled out of her mental skin flick starring one high-handed cowboy, Ginger looked over at her father. “Sorry. What?”
“Do you want a beer?”
Her dad was drinking beer? Didn’t he prefer wine? “Probably better not mix alcohol with my medication.”
Kane passed Dash the deck of cards. “Your deal. Your choice.”
“Blackjack.”
“Figures.”
The rheumatoid arthritis had done a serious number on her father’s body; the most obvious place was his hands. Some days he had difficulty eating, or holding a pen, or poking buttons on the remote. She didn’t baby him and offer to help him—unless he specifically asked. Respecting his privacy meant she had to watch him wrestle with simple tasks such as brushing his teeth and cleaning the lenses on his glasses.
Seeing his gnarled fingers struggling to shuffle the deck of cards caused an ache inside her. But he hid his frustration well.
Her father’s slowness didn’t bother Kane in the slightest. He sipped his beer, toyed with his chips. Not once did he offer to shuffle and deal for Dash. Not once did he urge the man to hurry up. Not once did he sigh or stare.
Kane’s consideration brought a lump to Ginger’s throat. This man was so much…more than she’d ever imagined. Sexy. Thoughtful. Sweet.
“Read ’em and weep, boy,” her father taunted.
“Yee-haw, here’s a chance to win some money back from the card sharp. I’ll double down and split,”
Kane said.
Dash had an ace showing. He flipped over a Queen of Hearts on one of Kane’s cards.
“That one’s good. Hit this one.”
He turned over a nine of clubs on the other.
“Good. Now let’s see what you’ve got.”
Her father turned over his hidden card. A Six of Spades. “Seventeen. Dealer stays on seventeen. Let’s see them.”
Kane had split a pair of tens, winding up winning with both twenty and nineteen. He grinned and scooped the chips to his side of the table.
The give and take of the game went on for another hour. Ginger almost felt invisible, listening to her dad and Kane talk about their gambling experiences. The highs and lows. The Vegas trips. The rhythm of the male voices soothed her and she drifted off.
She jerked awake with a gasp and found herself the center of three different scowls. “What? I was just resting my eyes.”
“Right. You’ve been out for a good ten minutes.”
“No way.”
“Mom. You were snoring.”
She blushed.
Kane stood. “It’s time for you to call it a night, Red.”
“But—”
“You’re supposed to be restin’, remember? And somehow I don’t think fallin’ asleep at the table is what Doc Monroe had in mind.”
Hayden hopped off his grandpa’s lap, slipped his arms around her neck. “Night, Mommy.”
“Night.” She whispered, “No goodnight kiss?”
He kissed her cheek.
“Don’t stay up too late and no drinking beer.”
His nose wrinkled. “I don’t like beer.”
“No whiskey either.”
He smiled that sweet little boy grin that turned her insides as gooey as a marshmallow. “I promise.”
“Good.” She swung her cast around and stood.
Kane lifted a challenging brow. “I’ll help you and make sure you don’t fall on your face before you get to bed.”
The automatic response to deny his help was strong, but she let it go. “That’d be great.”
“Play a couple of practice hands for me and keep an eye on your grandpa so he ain’t stackin’ the deck against me.”
Dash rolled his eyes.
Ginger kissed his cheek. “Night, Dad.”
Kane’s body heat nearly scorched her back as he escorted Ginger to her room. The bed she’d cursed hours earlier looked like an oasis. “I’m so tired.”
“I know you are. C’mere.” Kane gently wrapped her in his arms. “It ain’t so bad, havin’ my help, is it?”