My buddy Lars was still shaking his head, looking surprised that he’d lost the hand.
“I was trying for the full house,” he said.
I clapped him on the back, his imperfect English making me chuckle.
“Next time,” I said. “Or you could just give me your money now and go watch the baseball game.”
Preseason baseball had started, and Eric Alvarado was watching a game by himself in my TV room. I was surprised he’d even come over, but I invited the whole team. The other seven guys who’d come were sitting around the custom-made poker table I’d commissioned for nights like this one.
Wes was shuffling the next hand when I picked up my phone and saw a text from Sariah.
* * *
SARIAH: Guess what??? I just got a call and I got the job! I can’t believe they called me at 7:30 on a Friday night and I can’t believe I got the job! It’s a lot more money than I was expecting.
* * *
Okay, so Sariah wasn’t a Nigerian dude, she was definitely a twenty-five-year-old woman and she was definitely cute as hell. I didn’t have to see her to know it—I could feel it. I wrote back.
* * *
NASH: Congrats! When do you start?
SARIAH: A week from Monday. My current job is cutting back and they don’t mind that I’m quitting with only a one-week notice. I’ll keep waiting tables until I start, because eating is nice. LOL. What are you up to tonight?
* * *
I considered what to tell her. If I said I was busy with friends, she’d stop texting me, and who knew how long it would be until she texted me again? I could play poker and text her at the same time. It was Friday night, I didn’t have a game, and she had good news to celebrate. Maybe this would be the night I convinced her we should meet up in person. And by meet up, I meant screw our brains out later tonight and get to know each other better over breakfast in the morning.
* * *
NASH: Not much. How do you plan to celebrate your good news?
SARIAH: I’m going out for drinks with a friend.
NASH: What’s your favorite drink?
SARIAH: I’m a martini girl for sure. What about you?
NASH: I like different beers, but I’ve been on a porter kick lately.
* * *
“Hey, asshole, you playing or not?” Wes demanded from the other side of the poker table.
“He’s swiping right on his next elderly dominatrix,” Boone cracked as I set my phone down and picked up my cards.
I’d participated in a date auction during a charity event a few months ago and an older woman had bid on an evening with me. And holy shit, what an evening it had been. She’d been dressed in black leather when I’d arrived and I’d not only had to feign interest in her whip collection, but lick her boot so she felt like she got something for the thousands she’d donated to charity. My teammates were never going to let me live it down.
“You getting a spanking from Granny later, Nash?” Drew said, wiggling his brows up and down with amusement.
I put a card on the table and glared at him. “That joke ran its course, bro. You need to find some new material.”
Wes shook his head. “That joke will never run its course, my dude. When we’re all retired with great-grandchildren and balls that sag down to our knees, that shit will still be funny.”
I ignored him and picked my phone back up as the rest of the table made their bets. Sariah had texted me again and the alcohol in my system made me bolder than usual as I texted her back.
* * *
NASH: What are you wearing for your night out?
SARIAH: A slinky little top and a scandalously short skirt.
* * *
I swallowed hard and took a sip of my beer, picturing long legs in a skirt that left little to the imagination. And once I started thinking about it, I couldn’t focus on anything else.
* * *
NASH: Wow. I’d love a pic.
SARIAH: LOL you really don’t know me at all. I wouldn’t be caught dead in an outfit like that. I’m wearing jeans.
NASH: As long as it’s just the jeans and nothing else, I can work with that ;)
SARIAH: You’re flirty tonight. Are you drinking?
NASH: I’ve had a couple beers, yeah. I’m dying to know what you look like.
SARIAH: Why does it matter what I look like?
NASH: You intrigue me. I want to know more.
* * *
“Nash, either get your head out of your ass and play, or fold,” Wes grumbled. “It’s like dealing with my kids. I have to tell you to pay attention a dozen fucking times.”
“Annalise listens better than Nash,” Lars said.
“Got that right,” Wes agreed.
“Fine.”
I set my phone down and got my head in the game. A few hands later, we took a break to get drinks and I checked my phone again. Sariah hadn’t texted back.