Fair Game (The Rules 1)

My jaw hangs open as I absorb his words. “You really are an asshole, aren’t you?” I whisper.

The lopsided smile grows. “You’re looking at a top of the line asshole, baby,” he says.

I roll my eyes at the baby mention. I hate it when guys call me baby. Though…huh. No guy has ever called me that before. Not even Joel. Considering Joel is only my second semi-serious boyfriend and we’ve been going out for about six months, I guess that’s not saying much but still.

The baby bit should offend me. But it doesn’t. Neither does that smile.

What the hell is wrong with me?

“We’ll play another round of five card draw, just you and me.” Shep jabs his index finger in Joel’s direction. “The pot stays as is. But we’ll still raise. Consider this game,” he pauses and I hear the smug amusement enter his voice, “high stakes.”

Someone groans. I think it might’ve been Joel. Not that I’m allowed to look at him or anything.

“Your girlfriend here.” He touches me. Freaking Shep Prescott risks losing a limb by actually sliding his arm around my shoulders, his hand gripping my upper arm firmly. I can hardly move, what with the way he’s holding me. “You two make eye contact for even a second and you automatically lose.”

“Not a problem,” Joel says, his voice shaking the slightest bit. I wish I could look at him. If I could I’d be telling him to grow some balls and man up.

“So we’re ready?” Shep releases his hold on me, his fingers streaking across my back as he moves away and settles back in his seat. I send him my most evil glare but it doesn’t even faze him. He simply resumes shuffling his cards, slouching in his chair as he does so, his legs going wide so his knee bumps against my thigh.

Ignoring the sizzle that shoots up my leg, I scoot away from him as best I can but he stops me in my tracks.

“You leave, he loses,” Shep murmurs, so low I’m sure no one can hear him but me. “Don’t forget that.”

“Considering you won’t let me, I don’t think you need to worry,” I say with a little snort that I immediately regret. Way to impress him.

But you don’t want to impress him. You think he’s an asshole.

Yeah. I need to remember that.

The girl with the sarcastic mouth just made the night infinitely more interesting. I’d been bored out of my skull knowing I was going to win. The pot was small, maybe five hundred bucks. Big fucking deal. The last dude sitting at the table was a nervous little freshman who hadn’t backed down which surprised me. I figured he either had a better hand than me—almost impossible—or he was an excellent bluffer.

Also fairly impossible.

Then the girlfriend had to go and gesture behind me. She saw my hand. The little fucker brought his hot girlfriend to cheat and I hadn’t even noticed. And I always notice that crap. Instead of making sure she was on the up and up while I stared at her in the mirror I put up for the sole purpose of catching cheaters, I caught myself checking her out.

Nice tits. Good skin, if a little on the pale side. Long red hair pulled up into a ponytail and freckles scattered across her cheeks and nose. Freckles pretty much scattered everywhere. Not my normal type but what did me in—besides her tits because they look damn good in that black tank top she’s wearing—was her mouth. Bee stung lips. I can only imagine those lips wrapped tight around my…

“Are you going to deal or spend the entire night staring at me?”

I blink her into focus. She’s a feisty little thing too. What’s she doing with this freshman loser sitting across from me, looking ready to pass out at any given moment? I like her voice, despite all the shitty things she’s been saying about me.

And I’ve heard every single comment since she settled in behind me.

Ignoring her, I deal our hands and check my cards, careful to keep my expression neutral. A pair of queens and three junk cards. I won’t discard until he does first. I’m the dealer so that’s protocol and I don’t want him to know that I only have a pair.

“What’s your name?” I ask the girl.

She crosses her arms in front of her, plumping up her chest. I catch a glimpse of lime green lacy bra peeking above the neckline of her tank. Interesting. “Bitch Face,” she answers serenely.

I laugh. This chick is something else. “Fitting. I’m Shep. Though you already know.” I lower my voice. “Since Mommy has a treat for me and all that.”

Her cheeks go crimson. Busted. But she doesn’t say a word in her defense, which I find admirable.

I turn my focus on her boyfriend. “Hey. Asshole.” He lifts his gaze, pale blue eyes staring into mine. He looks petrified. He should be. “What’s your name?”

“J-Joel.” He clears his throat, his gaze falling to his cards once again. He shifts them around, moving two from one side to the other. Then he plucks one from the five and tosses it out face down. “I need one more please.”

Hell. What kind of hand does he have? I’m pretty sure I’m fucked. “You gonna raise the pot or what?”

He meets my gaze once more, trying to school his expression but I see the flash of triumph. He has a good hand. Fucker thinks he’s gonna win. “Uh, I’ll raise you fifty.” He tosses in the last of his chips.

“Fifty?” I cock a brow and toss in a matching fifty then deal him a single card. “That’s all you got?” I rapidly exchange out my cards, discarding the three junk ones and taking three new ones. I don’t turn them over. Not yet. The anticipation is half the fun especially when I’m fairly sure I’ll lose this round.