Wilder chuckled. “Let’s see if that’s the case. Deal the cards.”
Duane slid the deck over for Buster to deal. Wilder watched as Buster shuffled them and then began dealing the cards out.
Wilder picked up his cards and looked at them. Beginner’s luck? He almost laughed. He’d been playing poker since he was twelve. His father had been a card shark, and he taught his boys how to play.
“How many?” Buster asked each man.
“Two,” Wilder said and discarded two cards.
The other men took their cards, and Wilder looked at each of their faces. None of them, except Buster, had good poker faces. Wilder saw Buster staring at him again, so he raised his eyebrow at him and saw Buster clench his jaw. The man didn’t like him, and he wondered why.
“Your call,” Buster said to him.
He opened his wallet, pulled out a ten, placed it on the table, and sat back in the chair.
Everyone but Buster folded, making Wilder smirk.
“I’ll see your ten and raise you… ten,” Buster said, making the men whistle.
“Confident, are you?” Wilder pulled another ten from his wallet.
“Maybe I’m bluffing.”
“You could be, but I don’t think so.” Wilder laid the ten on the pile. “Call.”
Buster placed his cards on the table and looked at Wilder with a grin. Wilder looked at the cards, then at Buster, and grinned.
“What do you know? Four of a kind,” Wilder said. “But not good enough.” He laid his cards down. “Straight flush.”
“Son of a bitch,” Buster muttered as Wilder raked in the pile.
“Still think it’s beginner’s luck?”
Buster tossed the cards on the table, scooted his chair back, making it screech across the floor, and got to his feet.
“I’m done for tonight. Everyone, get some sleep. I’ll see you in the morning.” He picked up his hat, put it on his head, and strode out.
Wilder pushed his chair back, stood, and put the money he’d won into his wallet.
“Nice playing cards with you.”
“Yeah, it was nice for you,” Joel growled out.
“Hey, can I help it if you can’t play cards?”
“You seem too good at it, Richards,” Bernie said.
“Don’t be pussies because you got beat.”
“Let me win my money back,” Duane said.
“Not tonight. I’m going to bed. Five will be here before you know it, but we’ll play again.” Wilder turned from the table. “Goodnight.”
After he crawled into bed, he rolled to face the wall, closed his eyes, and right before drifting off, he got an idea.
Wilder sat on his bed a week later, watching the men play cards again, but he didn’t ask to join this time. He got to his feet, walked past the men, and headed out the door.
He leaned against the porch post and stared out at the night. The lights were out in Rory’s house, and he wished he could go to her. Stepping forward, he continued to stare in the house’s direction, and he wondered what she was doing. He had trouble keeping her out of his head. He wanted her night and day. It was so hard working next to her when he could smell her light perfume and remember how good it was with her. He couldn’t wait to spend time with her at his place.