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The Start of Something Good (Stay Book 1) by Jennifer Probst (11)

Chapter Eleven

Ethan decided to stop by the inn.

He was curious. Since that kiss, he hadn’t seen her. He figured she’d swing by the barn today to prove she had the right to visit and annoy him, but she never showed. Not that he wanted to see her. He was just curious what she was up to. Chloe said she seemed busy with work and stopped in town, but she didn’t give him further information. The teen had been doing well on the farm and was getting the hang of it. She was also great with the horses and had a gentle touch that was hard to teach. The only thing that seemed off was when her phone would ring and she’d look at it with half dread, then walk away to talk in private. Could be a boyfriend, but something was bothering him about her behavior. So far, though, there’d been no trouble. She seemed like a good kid.

Ophelia was bugging him to get up on the roof to secure one of the loose gutters. Now seemed like a good time to get it done and check on Mia to see what trouble she was up to.

Unfortunately, he’d picked the wrong time to do a stopover.

He paused close to the front porch, where six senior citizens were engaged in a rowdy game of cards. Tea and cookies were out, and they were yelling loudly at each other while music blasted in the background. Sounded like Rihanna. With . . . Eminem?

Must be the group he was scheduled to take horseback riding on Friday. Ethan paused, ready to turn back before they spotted him, but it was already too late.

“Hey, are you Ophelia’s brother, Ethan?” The elderly woman had a bird sprouting out of her head as she walked closer to greet him.

He bit back a groan and forced a polite smile. “Yep, that’s me. I’ll be seeing you later on in the week for your lessons.”

“We want to gallop. Fast.”

His lips twitched. “I’ll do my best. Don’t mean to interrupt your game. Have fun and I’ll talk to you later.”

“No, stay! I’m Ethel. We need another player for poker. You have money?”

“Yeah, but I’m just here to secure one of the gutters. I’m sure Ophelia will want to play.”

Another woman joined her, offering him a lascivious grin with no teeth. Was her gaze roaming over his body, or was he just imagining it? “Ophelia had to run into town for errands. We’ll wait for you, handsome. I’m Priscilla. Mia’s coming down to join us, and we like playing with eight, if possible.”

“Mia? She’s joining you in the game?”

“Yes, you know her?”

Oh, this was too good. Mia playing with a group of seniors? He had to see this for himself. “Sure. In that case, I’ll play a round or two.”

They clapped their hands. “We’ll wait if you want to take off your shirt and get on the ladder to fix the gutter first,” Priscilla said.

Take off his shirt? He’d heard of dirty old men, but this was a first. Ethel shook her head. “Priscilla, you’re going to scare him. Come on, Ethan, we have everything set up. You can do the gutter after a few rounds.”

Ethan climbed up the steps and found Ophelia had set up a large table for them to play on. A pitcher of iced tea and a platter of cookies were laid out. One glass held Priscilla’s teeth, and spare pairs of glasses were littered across the table. Red and blue chips were stacked in piles. They made quick introductions of the couples, chatting casually as Ed cashed him in, shooting Ethan suspicious looks.

“Military?” He grunted, handing him a pile of chips.

“Yeah. How’d you know?”

“I was, too. You got the look.” A flare of understanding passed between them. He poured himself a glass of iced tea and looked up as the screen door banged.

Mia held the desperate look of a woman praying for a savior. He bit back a grin at her obvious dread of playing poker at three p.m. on a weekday afternoon with strangers, but a grudging respect trickled through him. She could have said no or not answered the door or been rude. It said something that she allowed Ethel to direct her around because she was afraid to hurt her feelings. Most women he knew never would’ve given Ethel the time of day, no matter how pushy she was.

“You?” Those whiskey-colored eyes widened in part shock, part horror. “What are you doing here?”

He leaned back in his chair and crossed his ankles. “Good to see you, Mia. Been a long time.” She glowered at the hidden meaning. “Just playing a little poker.”

“She brought her money,” Dolly whispered happily. “Deal her in, Ed.”

“Mia, do you need some lessons?” Ethan asked innocently. “Poker is such a rough game. Do you even know how to play?”

Her gaze narrowed with a touch of meanness. Damn, she was hot. “Of course I know how to play. I can spot a bluff a planet away.”

Priscilla cackled. “Good, I like a bloodthirsty game. We had to drop a few players along the way because they didn’t have what it takes.”

Ed slid over Mia’s chips. “A few hard rules: Dealer’s choice. We ante up. We don’t play with wimpy wild cards. We don’t borrow money from each other. We don’t welch on bets. Got it?”

Ethan pressed his lips together and nodded. “Got it.”

Mia nodded. “Got it.”

“Have a cookie, dear,” Ethel said, sliding over one of Ophelia’s creations. Overlarge, gooey, and full of chocolate chips, they were guaranteed to wipe out any bad mood.

Sheer terror carved out the lines of Mia’s face. “N-n-no thank you.” Ethan noticed her fingers trembled, and her nose flared slightly as if trying to suck up the scent of the chocolate. Son of a bitch—when was the woman going to allow herself some damn simple pleasures?

He grabbed one, broke it in half, and handed her a piece. “Eat the cookie, Mia,” he commanded.

She folded her arms in front of her chest and smiled. Sweetly. “No, thank you.”

“You’ll like it.”

“Maybe later.”

They stared at one another in a ridiculous challenge until Fred called out, “Ante up!”

Priscilla clapped, reached over, and stuck in her teeth. Ed began dealing. “Game is five-card stud.”

Their gazes broke apart, but it wasn’t over. Not by a long shot.

Ethan had played a lot of poker in his life. On missions, a deck of cards helped him alleviate the boredom and bond with his teammates. He’d learned the hard way—by losing a shitload of money—the proper way to bluff, when to fold, and when to take his shot. He quickly analyzed the table and figured out some things after the second round.

Ed was too black and white and didn’t like risk. Priscilla and Ethel bet for fun. Fred was too laid back.

The real card sharks were Dolly, Pete, and Mia.

They were fearless, smart, and changed their game play enough to keep him off balance. But slowly, using all the tactics he’d learned, he flushed out Dolly until she dropped. He pegged Pete as his main competitor, but the man began getting distracted, looking away from his cards and getting a strange glassy-eyed stare that looked way too familiar.

Ethan glanced over at Priscilla.

The woman was leaning over the table, giving her husband a generous peek at her breasts.

Ethan jerked back, almost spilling his tea, and wished for bleach to remove the vision permanently.

“What’s the matter?” Mia asked.

Ethan groaned. “Pete? Why don’t you excuse yourself from the table?”

Priscilla giggled.

Pete stood up. “I fold,” he announced. He grabbed his wife’s hand and dragged her inside. “We’re tired. We need a nap.”

The door slammed.

Mia’s mouth dropped open as the full implication seemed to finally hit her.

“There they go again,” Ethel said. “Always banging.”

Mia choked.

“Guess it’s just you two,” Fred said.

Ethan assessed his final competitor and threw in a blue chip. “I raise you five.”

She never blinked or changed her expression. Her glittery nail polish flashed. “Call.”

“What do you have?” he asked.

She laid out her cards in a perfect fan. “Three kings.”

Son of a bitch. No way she was holding those when she’d asked for a card. “Nice job. Two pair.”

She reached out and raked in the chips without delay, not even showing a shred of excitement over her victory. Oh, she was good.

But he was better. And he had a plan.

“Why don’t we make things more interesting for the final deal?” he threw out. “How about a bet?”

She shot him a suspicious look. “What type of bet?”

“If I win, you go with me to the cupcake festival.”

Dolly tittered. “He wants a date with her,” she whispered to Ethel.

Ethel sighed. “So romantic.”

“What?” Mia screeched. “Why on earth would you want to go to a cupcake festival with me?”

He pasted on his best hurt expression. “What are you talking about? You know I’ve had a crush on you for a while. I’d love to take you to the festival.”

Fred laughed. “Oh, he’s good. Real good. Why don’t you give him a chance, Mia?”

Trying hard not to laugh at her stunned face, Ethan knew the moment she realized the whole thing was a setup. Steam rose from her head. Ethel and Dolly were urging her to take pity on him, practically sighing over the romantic idea of trying to win a date. He was having so much fun, he almost didn’t notice the gleam of revenge in those golden eyes.

Almost.

“Aww, that’s so adorable, Ethan,” she simpered for the audience. She even batted those lashes at him. “I accept. But if I win, I want something from you.”

“What is it?”

Her smile was deadly. “Ethel was telling me they were dying to see the play Mama Mia at the Westchester Dinner Theater Saturday night, but they need someone to drive them. No one is comfortable driving at night, and it’s over an hour away. Since I know how much you adore musicals, I think it would be wonderful if you accompanied them!”

Holy shit. She was pure evilness. The woman even managed to bat her eyelashes in innocence.

Ethel squealed. “What a wonderful bet! Thank you, Mia, that was so sweet of you!”

“You’re welcome. Well, Ethan, do we have a deal?”

He needed to up the stakes. He leaned over and nailed her with his gaze. “Fine. But there’s one clause included for our cupcake-festival date.”

She blinked. Good—at least she was wary. “What?”

“You have to eat the cupcakes. As many as I say.”

Her face paled. He caught the twist of lust for sugar and fear of getting out of control. That’s when he knew he had to watch her eat a cupcake. It would be an orgasmic experience.

For both of them.

She gnashed her teeth together but managed to nod. “Fine.”

“Done. I deal. Five-card stud. Ante up.”

In an almost sulky silence, she threw her chips in, but he knew he had to watch her carefully. This round was absolutely crucial. There was no fucking way he was escorting a group of seniors to see Mama Mia. His man card would be permanently yanked.

The next two hands ended up being crap. He folded first round, she folded the next. On the third round, his nerves tingled pleasantly at the sight of two regal ladies. A glance over told him she was also interested.

She threw down one card.

He threw down two.

Tension rose in the air. He studied her face, noting the tiny tic of her right brow. Yes, she had a decent hand. The question would be if he had one better.

Since this was the final all-in round, there was no need for foreplay.

Three queens.

Sweat broke out on his skin. The towering pile of chips in the center wasn’t the real prize, and they both knew it. But damned if she didn’t look cool and composed. This was going to be close.

“Time to show. What do you have?”

The touch of a smile curved her lush, pink lips, distracting him for a second. It was worse now that he knew how she tasted. How could she practically ooze sugary sweetness when she never allowed herself to eat any?

“Two pair. Aces,” she said.

It was a good hand, but not good enough. He savored the pure relief of not only escaping a musical but also being able to watch her eat cupcakes.

“Nice. But I have three queens.”

The audience burst into applause. Ed slapped him on the back and grunted in approval. Dolly patted Mia’s hand in sympathy.

“At least you’ll get a date out of it,” Dolly whispered loudly. “He’s a nice man.”

Ethan tried not to be offended at the strangled look on Mia’s face. The woman could demolish a man’s ego way too easily. He stood up from the chair and stretched. “Been a pleasure playing with you all. Gonna fix up that gutter, and I’ll see everyone on Friday for the lessons,” he said. “Wanna walk me out, Mia?”

Suddenly, Priscilla and Pete burst from the front door. “Who won?” Priscilla demanded. Pete had a goofy grin on his face. Both of their faces were sweaty, and there was a glow around them.

Holy shit, they were getting more action than he was.

Ethel sighed. “Ethan won and he’s taking Mia out on a date to the cupcake festival. Pris, your blouse is on backward.”

Priscilla looked down and giggled. “Oops.”

Mia jumped up. “I’ll walk you out!”

Ethan led her to the side of the house, where a large weeping willow tree hid them from the sting of the sun. Ophelia’s bountiful vegetable garden offered an array of vivid colors and scents, carefully protected by a picket fence to keep out intruders. He opened the ladder he’d previously set out and fished around in his toolbox.

“That was dirty pool,” she shot out, hands crossed in front of her chest. He tried not to notice the perfect swell of her breasts against the creamy silk of her tank top. His palm itched, remembering the sweet curve of their weight, the hard tips of her nipples pressed against his chest. He smothered a groan and focused on grabbing the right tools.

“Because I want to take you to the cupcake festival? You’re right. I’m a horrific villain.”

She practically seethed, which only added to his desire to grab her and work out all that energy in a totally different way. “You were mocking me. You don’t even like me. You just want me to eat cupcakes!”

“I like you just fine,” he muttered. Dear God, why did his skin suddenly feel hot? He turned away and climbed the ladder, wondering what was happening to him. He’d been known for his smooth charm in Hollywood and had women trailing his every move. Now, he sounded like an awkward teen. Did he like her? “When you had that apple pie, you changed. You relaxed. You looked happy. And you weren’t so . . .”

“What?” Her voice dripped with suspicion.

“Uptight.”

She let out a breath. Then went on a tirade close to the way Donald Duck got in a snit, so he took the opportunity to bang the nails in, and the noise smothered her rant. He checked the fit and tuned back in.

“—rude, and it’s none of your business what I eat or don’t, and the way you try to bully me—”

“Look, princess, that Mama Mia trick was as low as you can go. So don’t talk to me about setups.”

“Ethel did say she needed a driver. I was just trying to be nice.”

“Sure. Besides, I think you deliberately wanted to lose.”

Her mouth fell open, and they were back to the races. “What are you talking about?”

He climbed down the ladder, replaced his tools and shut the box, then smirked. “You could’ve folded again. Instead, you stayed in with an average hand. Maybe you wanted a date with me but were too embarrassed to pursue it. This way, you get to pretend it was forced on you.”

Her skin flushed, and her golden eyes flamed. “You’re delusional,” she breathed. “I despise spending time with you.”

“Ah, you protest a bit too much. Listen, it doesn’t bother me. I like being pursued. It’s kinda cute.”

She was so mad, words seemed to escape her. Delight flowed through him. Actual sparks flew around her figure. It was the same type of chemistry that shot out when they’d kissed. If he took her to bed, would they both combust?

“This is war, horse man,” she finally wrested out. “Make no doubt about it.” She marched away, head held high in the air, fists clenched at her sides.

“See you Saturday!” he called out. “Oh, and wear something pretty.” Ethan shook his head. The woman was definitely livening up his summer.