* * *

“Can we get some service over here?” yells a woman who’s seated at one of the tables in the packed coffee house. “You girls are moving slow as molasses!”

I slap the lids down on a couple of cups and place them in a cup holder before taking them over to the counter. I pause for a moment to dab the sweat from my brow with my apron, sighing. My feet ache from running back and forth during the early morning rush and I need a damn break.

Jesus, I tell myself as I force a fraudulent smile on my face. This is the worst morning ever. It’s a blistering hot day in July. The A/C’s shoddy, it’s like 100 degrees outside, and it feels like I’m working in the fiery pits of hell. And to make matters worse, it’s a packed house and I’m running behind. I don’t know how much more of this madness I can take.

“We’ll be right with you, ma’am!” I call out, flashing her an easy smile and a playful wink that hides my irritation. I ring up the order for a man standing at the front of the line and then send him on his way with his two iced coffees. He’s immediately replaced by another man, who spits out his order so fast I almost feel dizzy, barely catching it all. “We’re just running a little behind schedule this morning.”

“Bullshit!” the woman snaps, glowering at the line of people in front of me. She’s a well-kept, middle-aged blonde with an immaculate short hairdo, garbed in fur-trimmed designer clothes that go along with her snobby attitude. “There’s three of you back there, yet I’ve been waiting for over ten minutes for my frap.” She shakes her head, practically frothing at the mouth. “It’s ridiculous!”

A lump of anger forms in my throat. I quickly swallow it back, glancing to the sky. Dear God, give me the strength!

I grit my teeth, my eyes cutting off to the side where the equipment is. I see Cassie, one of my employees, taking her sweet ass time blending something. She’s acting like we don’t have customers piling up out the ass. Throwing her long, brown hair back, she takes in a deep yawn as if she’s tired from working so hard. If she weren’t new, I’d chew her out.

I shake my head.

At least she looks nice enough in our new uniform, a blue skirt that shows a lot of leg, with a white V-necked T-shirt with Beangal’s Den printed over the chest. But looking cute and pretty doesn’t mean shit to me if you’re not getting work done.

Sighing, I look around for Sarah, my other employee, but she’s nowhere to be seen.

Figures, I say to myself. One disappears on me, and the other is moving slower than a snail. Why did I want to be the manager of this place again?

“Ma’am,” I say as politely as I can manage, turning my eyes back on her. I signal to the waiting customer that I’ll be with him in a moment. “I understand your frustration with having to wait, but there’s no need for that language. There are kids in here.” I pause and add, “However, I promise that once you try our world-famous Tiger Caramel Frappuccino, you’ll forget all about the wait. It’s just that good.” I flash her another smile and a wink, hoping to defuse the situation.

“Ha! We’ll see! But if your service weren’t so damn bad, we wouldn’t have a problem,” the woman hotly retorts, ignoring my peace-making attempt and looking as if she’s ready for a fight.

I clench my hands, biting back a sharp response that instantly forms on my lips. Usually, I can handle even the most disgruntled customer with my charm, but this one seems immune to it. And she’s testing my patience.

Taking a deep breath, I draw myself up, then speak in calm, even tones. “Ma'am, if you can’t watch your language, I’m going to have to kindly ask that you leave.”

Steeling myself, I wait for her to challenge me. But surprisingly, she just grumbles, muttering something nasty under her breath as she looks away.

I sigh in relief. I was half-expecting to have to call hotel security to deal with this one.

For the next five minutes, I go back to frantically taking and filling orders. I have to stop three times to tell Cassie to pick up the pace. It does little good. If anything, she moves slower, like she’s silently protesting having to work hard.

Dammit. I just don’t have the time to get on Cassie's ass right now. It wouldn’t be so bad if Sarah weren’t MIA.

It just so happens that as soon as the rush of customers is gone, Sarah reappears from the back.

“Where on earth have you been?” I gasp, setting down a tray I’ve brought over from an empty table on the counter. “We’ve been slammed out here! I’m doing three people’s jobs!”

The twenty-year-old short brunette with dimples normally has a penchant for being overzealous about her job. She shakes her head as her eyes fall on Cassie. “I bet. She was probably up all night screwing Brad’s brains out.” I hold in a groan. Sarah loves to get digs in against Cassie whenever she can. I ignore responding to the bait as Sarah looks back to me. “I’m sorry, Mindy. I was just having a little trouble back there.”

I frown with confusion. “What kind of trouble?”

Sarah tilts her head to the side, biting her lower lip. “Well, uh, my tampon—”

“TMI!” I say, cutting her off and looking around fearfully, hoping no one heard what she just said. “Jesus, Sarah,” I hiss quietly, “what are you trying to do, scare our customers away?”

Sarah blushes, her cheeks turning a rosy red. “Sorry!”

I shake my head, gently grabbing her by the shoulders and guiding her toward the dining area. “Never mind that. I need your help. There’s like five tables that need to be cleaned off and wiped down, and I need a few supplies from the back.”

Sarah nods dutifully, wiping her hands on her apron and making her way over to the messy tables. “On it, Boss!”

I sigh and shake my head as I watch her nearly run into a customer on her way. A pulsing ache runs down my side as I lean against the counter for support. I really don’t know how I’m going to get through the rest of the day. The stress of running this place is getting to me lately. In fact, ever since I became the operating manager of Beangal’s Den, I’ve been overworked and tired. Sure, I’m making more money than I ever have, but I’m beginning to wonder if it’s even worth it.

I work so much now that I have no social life. The vibrant small-town girl who wouldn’t hesitate to give a wild bull a run for his money has been replaced by an old maid. In fact, I can’t even remember the last time I’ve been with a guy and let him do the . . .

A buzz at my side and a Taylor Swift ringtone of We Are Never, Ever Getting Back Together interrupt my thoughts. Grumbling, I pull my cell out of my pocket and glance around the cafe to make sure things aren’t getting back out of hand before I answer it.

“Hello?”

“Mindy, my dear!” my mother’s voice greets me in a singsong tone.

I hold in a groan. I love my mom dearly, but she’s the last one I want to hear from right now. She always gives me a headache with her constant picking. “Mother,” I reply cordially.

“My God, Mindy,” she complains with a sniff, “we haven’t talked in weeks. Can you sound any unhappier to hear from me?”

I knew I shouldn’t have answered.

I try my best to keep my tone even. “Sorry, Mom. I’m just working right now. Can I call you back after my shift?”

“No,” she replies flatly. “This is important.”

I try not to sigh out loud. “Okay, Mom. You have two minutes before—”

A piercing shriek interrupts my words and I jump in surprise. I turn around to see Cassie wiping coffee off her chest at the counter. Luckily, she’d only gotten it on herself and not a customer. I swear, I don’t know what I’m going to do with this chick.

“What the hell was that?” my mom demands on the other end of the line.

I pull away from the counter, shaking my head. Then I walk around, grab a towel from a shelf, and hand it over to Cassie. “Nothing,” I reply. “Just the background noise of the cafe.”

“It sounded like a dying cat.”

Can’t argue with that.

“There was something important you wanted to tell me,” I remind her, getting back on point.

“I’m getting married next week,” my mom announces, dropping the bomb on me without warning.

My jaw drops and my heart skips a beat at her words. While I’ve been expecting this, it still feels like a shock. After the heartbreak of Dad’s sudden death during my senior year of high school, Mom swore on her grandmother’s grave that she’d never marry again . . . until she met John Wentworth, a multi-millionaire businessman.

Unfortunately, I’ve heard more about John’s status than anything else about him. During their courtship, it was almost all she talked about.

John has this, and John has that. John bought me this and John bought me that. And one of my favorites, ‘Do I need to remind you how much John is worth?’ It’s a line she likes to pull out whenever I dare question the dynamics of her relationship. I swear, I think the only reason she’s doing this is because he’s loaded.

Still, despite my misgivings on the authenticity of their relationship, now is not the time to voice my displeasure or doubts. This is her happy moment, and whether I like it or not, I need to be supportive.

“Mom, that’s wonderful!” I say in the most joyful tone I can manage.

“Isn’t it?” Mom says proudly. “It’s going to be absolutely gorgeous. He’s already rented out the venue too. A grand ballroom that sits on the shore with breathtaking views of the ocean.”

“Gee, Mom, that sounds great. I’m so happy for you!”

There’s a short pause and my mother’s voice drops a few octaves. “And I want you to come.”

I pause, glancing around the busy cafe. Cassie’s finally gotten most of the coffee off her shirt, although there is a giant stain on it, and is taking a man’s order. Meanwhile, Sarah’s busting her ass, bringing the sitting patrons their fraps. She’s looking pretty worn-out herself.

“Mom . . . I don’t know,” I say slowly, not wanting to upset her. “This is a little out of the blue. With my work schedule and all, I don’t know if . . .”

I hear her sharp intake of breath. “Are you kidding me right now, Mindy Isabella Price? I’m your mother, the most important person in your life and the one who gave birth to—”

“You’re right!” I say quickly. If I don’t head that off, I’ll be here until next week listening to her tell me how she was in labor with me for thirty-seven hours and that I owe her the universe. “I don’t know what I was thinking. Of course I’ll be there.”

“You need to take at least a week off,” Mom adds.

“A week—” I began to protest. Dear God, with Cassie and Sarah running things? They’ll burn the place down.

“Yes, a week! Everyone’s going to be there. Your sister, your cousin, and your aunt. Your grandmother.”

I open my mouth to argue but then shut it with a snap. It’s a fool’s errand. My mother has a head harder than granite sometimes. Shaking my head, I bite my lower lip, thinking. Damn, she drives a hard bargain.

But the more I think about taking a week off, the more I begin to like the idea. I haven’t seen my little sister, Roxy, in forever. Same for my cousin Layla, Aunt Rita, and Grandma Ivy Jo. It sure would be nice to take a break from this mess to relax and chill with the fam.

“I can do that,” I say finally, feeling more at ease. “It’ll be so good to see you and the family again.”

Heaven help Cassie and Sarah.

“It sure will,” Mom agrees. “Roxy has been asking about you non-stop.”

A grin plays across my lips as I think about my younger sister. At twenty-one, Roxy’s young, dumb, and full of fun. Basically, an even more smartassed and sassier version of myself.

But my Mom’s next words take me out of my reverie and hit me like a lightning bolt. “And I expect you to bring your fiancé.”

“My fiancé?” I ask with a croak when I can finally find my voice.

“Yes! You know, Harold. Tall. Handsome. Rich. Good in bed. The one you’ve been bragging to me about for the past year.” She lets out a little laugh. “Roxy’s been dying to meet him . . . and so have I.”

Shit, shit, shit!

I pause, the phone pressed against my ear, my mind racing in panic.

That lie. I should’ve known it would come back to bite me in the ass. I’m not one for long-term relationships, and I got sick of Mom trying to set me up with some man back at home she wanted me to meet. Knowing her, probably a son of one of John’s friends. I got tired of it, so I told her I was engaged to get her off my back.

Stupid me.

I suck in a deep breath, about to tell her the truth, but I stop. There’s no way I can admit that I was lying for the past year and show up at her wedding without a man. Absolutely no way. By now, everyone in the family has heard about my fiancé, Harold, and mom is going to be overly dramatic if I fess up now. Besides, she’s getting married. She doesn’t need to hear that I lied.

“Mindy?”

“I—” I began to say, not knowing how I’m going to get out of this one. At that exact moment, Brianna Adams, my best friend and ex-partner in crime—and now part-owner of the Beangal’s Den—walks through the door, her adorable little boy, Rafe, balanced expertly on her right hip.

Suddenly, I’m struck by an idea, my face lighting up like a light bulb. “Of course, Harold,” I say cheerfully, regaining my composure. “He’ll be coming. He’s been wanting to meet you for forever!”

I can practically feel my Mom beaming through the phone. “Perfect! I’ll be expecting you both. See you soon, love.”

The line goes dead, and I’m quick to pocket my cell as I wave Brianna over to the counter. She’s halfway there when the disgruntled woman from earlier jumps up from her seat. Apparently, she’s finished with her drink and not satisfied in the least.

“You were wrong,” she says loudly at me, brushing by Brianna to get to me. “It wasn’t worth the wait. I’ve tasted far better, like the Unicorn Frappuccino they serve at the place on the other side of town.” She shakes her head angrily and almost yells, “You guys suck. I’m never coming here again!” Cutting her eyes at me, she spins around and walks off, nearly running into Brianna on her way out.

Brianna’s forehead crinkles into a frown as she reaches the counter. “Having a bad day, I take it?” She asks.

My chest fills with warmth as my eyes fall on my good friend. Dressed in a white and yellow flower dress that has a low V-cut with her long brown hair pulled into a lazy bun, she looks absolutely voluptuous. Shit, had I known pregnancy could do that, I would’ve gotten knocked up years ago.

“Besides the A/C not working and being overrun for over half the morning? Business as usual,” I say dismissively. With my mind on my idea, the dissatisfied customer is already old news. “We were a little behind earlier.”

“I feel sorry for you. Someone’s been called about the A/C,” Brianna says. She pauses and frowns again. “And what the hell’s a Unicorn Frappuccino?”

I roll my eyes. “It’s all the rage right now. What rock have you been hiding under?”

“Have you tried it?” Brianna asks curiously.

I shake my head. “Hell, no! I have a friend who did and she was shitting glitter and rainbows all week.”

“Mindy!” Brianna protests.

I shake my head. “I’m serious! It’s a real drink.”

Brianna looks like she’s about to argue and then thinks better of it, shaking her head. “I’ll take your word for it.”

“Good,” I say, reaching across the counter to tug on Rafe’s small hand. He giggles as I shake it. He’s a spitting image of both his parents, with adorable baby blues and dirty-blonde hair. “How’s my little man doing?”

Brianna smiles, her eyes lighting up as she looks at her baby boy. “Good. He’s talking even more now and can almost form a full sentence.”

“That’s awesome.” I grin at Rafe and soften my tone into a voice as sweet as sugar. “Can you say a sentence for Aunt Mindy? Huh, Rafey?”

“Hungry!” Rafe says, reaching for his mom’s left breast.

“Rafe stop it!” Brianna snaps, grabbing Rafe’s little arm before he can pull her boob out in public, her cheeks turning red. “Sorry,” she mutters. “He does that all the time.”

I shake my head. I know I shouldn’t, but I can’t help myself. “Takes after his Daddy, and I don’t blame him, Jersey Maid. You look like you can feed the village with those milk jugs.”

“Mindy!”

“Girl, I’m serious. What are you, a triple-D now? If I ever run out of creamer, I know just the person to call.”

“I’m gonna leave!” Brianna threatens.

I let out a laugh. “Oh my God, lighten up, will you? It was just a joke.”

Brianna scowls. “Well, you’re not funny.”

“Yeah, I am.” The grin on my face slowly fades as I remember my idea.

“So how’s Gavin?” I ask, clearing my throat. Gavin, Brianna’s husband, is almost just as good a friend as Brianna is to me. A former football star, he’s settled down into small-town life with surprising ease. But I would think it would be hard not to with the beautiful ranch they moved into. “He enjoying fatherhood much?”

Brianna nods, a smile coming to her face. “Very much so. He can’t wait until Rafe is old enough to go fishing with him. He talks about it every day.”

“What about work?” I ask, leaning in with intense interest.

Brianna gazes at me for a moment. “Well, with the money he made during his football career and his investments, he’s not hard up for a job. He’s taking it easy right now. The kids love the football camp he runs, mentoring disadvantaged children, and helping local actors—”

Brianna’s talking, but I’m starting to zone out, my mind drifting to my predicament.

It seems she notices, and Brianna stares at me suspiciously. As my best friend, she always knows when something is up. “Mindy Price, what is going on in that head of yours?”

“Umm . . . I need to ask you something,” I admit.

Brianna arches an eyebrow as I feel sweat begin to form on my brow. “Oh, really? What’s that?”

I stand there silently, not knowing how to form my next words, my heart pounding like a battering ram. Jesus, she’s not going to make this easy.

“Mindy,” she presses. “I’m waiting.”

I’m unable to part my lips. I don’t know how to tell her about the lie that I’m caught up in.

“Mindy!” Bri cracks.

“Mindy!” Rafe echoes, pointing at me.

Just say it!

Closing my eyes, I take a deep breath. And when I open them, I finally ask, “Know any hot guys named Harold?”

“Pair of aces,” I announce with a grin, turning my cards over on the wooden table and gathering the pot from the middle of the table in one giant swoop. “Bend over, buddy. Your ass is mine.”

“Fuck, man!” Jason Woods, a twenty-four-year-old friend and fellow businessman yells, slapping his hand down on the table with enough force to cause some of my chips to go flying off, his face an angry red. “That’s the second fucking time you called my bluff,” he complains.

I sit back in my seat and appraise him, hiding a smirk. Jason’s not a good poker player. He’s okay when he’s winning, but whenever he starts losing or is under pressure, I can read him like a book. With his tells, I can easily see if he’s bluffing or if he has a good hand.

“He’s a lucky bastard,” Kevin White, another buddy of mine in his early thirties who’s sitting beside me, agrees. Shaking his head, he rolls back the sleeves of his white dress shirt, his blonde hair glinting against the single light hanging above our heads. Having lost nearly all night, he’s not as pissed as Jason is. But then again, Kevin never gets that pissed about anything. I bet he could lose his life savings and his reaction would be mild.

“Sorry, boys,” I say with a grin and then joke, “I taught Phil Ivey everything he knows.”

Jason lets out a derisive snort. “Dude, you’re so full of shit. Your whole game is about sitting there with that cocky smirk on your face and getting lucky on the river.”

I huff out a short laugh. “Don’t hate. A win’s a win.”

“And a dick’s a dick,” Jason snarls.

“Hey, hey, now,” Gavin Adams says sternly from across the table, shaking his head at Jason. Dressed all in black, he looks like the dark knight with golden hair as he scowls. “Let’s not. We all know Oliver’s good. We’re all grown men here. There’s no reason to get pissed when we lose. This is like the third time you’ve popped off after a loss, and it’s getting old.”

Gavin’s words seemed to calm Jason at once. “You’re right.” He barely looks my way as he adds, “Sorry, Oliver. Tired of losing, that’s all.”

As a former football star and kind of a celebrity, Gavin has more clout with the friends in our circle. No matter how wrong he might be, they almost always agree with whatever he says. It’s a nice perk, but it’s got to get old with everyone being fake around you. I’d rather someone give it to me straight.

I toss Gavin an imperceptible nod of thanks, though I think I could’ve handled the situation just fine myself.

“All good,” I tell Jason. “No offense taken.”

“Yeah, cause you have my money,” Jason mutters under his breath, but I pretend I don’t hear it.

“Glad y’all got that out the way. Now can we fucking play?” Kevin says.

The blood rushes through my veins at his words, Jason’s anger quickly forgotten. Looking at my stash, I rub my palms together in anticipation. “Let’s do it.”

I love playing poker and taking risks. The higher the stakes, the bigger the rush.

Rock climbing, sky diving, martial arts, poker . . . if there’s a real risk involved, I want a taste of it. It hasn’t always been this way, though.

As an executive at Steele Pharmaceuticals, I never wanted for cash. My father was the CEO and owner, and I was his right-hand man. I could have and do anything I wanted. But with that position of power came a fuck ton of stress . . . along with a lot of disagreements. The stress and the arguing got so bad that I eventually sold all of my shares of the company and quit after my seven-year tenure, leaving my Dad to run the company by himself.

My father was furious with me over my move. He thought my leaving at the height of our success was a huge slap in the face. But I couldn’t help myself. If I’d stayed there any longer, we would’ve ended up at each other’s throat and hating each other. I didn’t want it to be that way, so I left.

A year later, I have a net worth of over ten million, living the small-town life. I even own a small home a few blocks down from my mother when I could be living large. It’s been quite an adjustment for someone so used to the city. But it’s nice to be able to help my mom, a poor single woman who chose not to accept a red cent from my wealthy father when they got divorced.

“Well, as long as you gentlemen don’t start pulling out guns and shooting each other,” says old man Joe, the sixty-year-old barber and host for our games, “I’m fine with it.”

I chuckle as my eyes find the man sitting at the head of the table, dressed in dark clothing with a straw hat on. Old Joe has a large belly and a big mop of salt and pepper hair. He has one of those finely groomed beards that hides his face and makes him look like he’s jolly even when he’s pissed. He’s the living punchline of the old joke, if a town has two barbers, go to the one with the bad haircut since he’s the good one and the other one sucks.

“Let me get a smoke first,” Jason says, taking out a cigarette and a lighter in one smooth flourish. He’s about to light it when Gavin shakes his head.

“Not in here,” Gavin says firmly. “If you want to do that shit, go outside.”

“Come on, man,” Jason whines. “Are you serious? We’re playing poker. Smoking goes hand in hand.”

“We have to tell you this shit every time. You’re the only one who smokes here. Take it outside.”

Jason scowls, still fingering the cigarette like it’s his lifeline. “My wife doesn’t care if I smoke.”

“Yeah?” Gavin says, “Well, mine does. And I’m not going back home smelling like second-hand ass funk.”

Jason mutters something under his breath, but he stuffs the lighter and the pack of cigarettes back into his pocket.

“How’s Brianna anyway?” Kevin asks.

A light brightens Gavin’s eyes and a slight smile comes to his lips. “Pretty good. She’s having a blast raising our little man Rafe, but lately, she’s been complaining about the baby weight that won’t come off.”

Kevin chuckles. “Tara does the same thing. But I think it fits her.”

Gavin nods, a boyish smirk curling his lips. “I rather like it myself,” he agrees.

I shift in my seat, feeling slightly uncomfortable. Talk of wives and babies always makes me feel anxious for some reason. I don’t particularly have a desire to settle down with a woman and have children.

Not when my last relationship left me sour with how overly needy and clingy she was. She loved the way I fucked, but she loved the size of my bank account even more. When I found out what she was truly after, I dropped her faster than a hot potato.

Since then, love ‘em and leave 'em has become my motto. Except lately, I haven’t been doing much loving at all. I’m always too busy with my corporate security startup and helping my mom when she needs it.

In fact, it’s high time I get some action. It’s been awhile since I made a girl . . .

“So when are you going to settle down, Oliver?” Jason asks me, tearing me out of my thoughts. “You’re the only guy at the table who’s still single.”

I clear my throat. Why do we always end up talking about this shit? Can’t we just play the damn game without going into our personal lives? “I don’t know. Haven’t met the one yet.”

Kevin shakes his head. “You’re missing out, man. Nothing beats having a family to call your own.”

“I could argue against that,” I say in braggadocious tones, not letting any of my feelings show. “Being free to do whoever you want, whenever you want has its perks.” I wiggle my eyebrows for maximum effect.

“So about that game,” Gavin says, suddenly eager to change the subject, noticing that it’s something I’d rather not discuss. “Let’s play.”

Joe deals me my two cards, and I look—Ace of diamonds and the Ace of spades. I wait while Gavin checks his cards. “I’ll raise five thousand,” Gavin says.

“Five grand? Are you out of your damn mind?” Jason asks, shaking his head. “Man, every time I get a decent deal, you just slam the pot with that shit. Fuck this. I’m sitting this one out.”

“Yeah, me too,” Kevin adds, turning his hand over and tossing it in. “Two-four off suit? I’m not an idiot yet.”

Gavin’s done that before, tried to bully the little bits of the blind by splashing the pot, but I’m not taking it this time. Not with paired aces. “Ten grand.”

Joe drops the flop, and I see magic. Ace of hearts and two sevens. I’ve got a full house—three aces and two sevens. Gavin licks his lips, and I know I have him. I got exactly what I needed. He checks. I knew he was trying to steal the pot.

“You wanna raise the stakes? I raise twenty thousand,” I reply, shoving in the chips. The odds of him beating my full house are slim to none, and I’ll admit, I’d like to get one over on the former football star.

I can’t believe it when Gavin calls my bet. “Call,” Gavin says, his hands shaking slightly. Joe gives Gavin a look but shrugs as Gavin moves in the chips, and then he flips over the turn card.

King of diamonds. Gavin blinks, his eyes tight. “Check,” he says.

Inside, I grin. I’ve got him. Even if he had two kings in his hand, he loses. “One hundred thousand.”

There’s not a sound in the room as everyone looks at Gavin, wondering what the fuck he’s doing. Finally, he takes a deep breath and slides his chips into the middle. “Call.”

Joe drops the river, and I feel a sense of concern. But then I see it’s the ten of clubs. No chance in hell he can beat me, but his next words confuse the hell out of me. “Five hundred grand,” he says.

Gavin gives me a tight smile and slides the money in. Has he lost his fucking mind? “This one’s mine,” he gloats.

“Hardly,” I say with a laugh, pushing in my chips. “Call.” Gavin grins again and turns over his cards. “Four sevens.”

As soon as I see the pair of sevens, the air is ripped from my lungs.

I stare at the cards in disbelief, feeling numb all over. He raised five grand on a pair of fucking sevens and then flopped four-of-a-kind? How lucky can you be? I can’t believe it—he flopped a four of a kind. Around the table, everyone seems to be echoing my shock. Old Joe, Kevin, and Jason are frozen like statues, staring at me with surprise in their eyes.

I clench my jaw, anger rising from the pits of my stomach. It doesn’t matter though. I accepted the bet and I lost.

I get up from my seat, feeling absolutely defeated, ignoring all the eyes on me. “I’ll transfer the funds to your account in the morning,” I say, keeping my tone even, even though I’m fucking pissed with myself. I don’t know what the hell I was thinking.

It fucking sucks losing that much money, but it’s not going to break me, though it’s sure going to hurt.

“I’m done for the night. That’s gonna put me on tilt if I keep playing,” I tell them, turning to leave.

“Wait,” Gavin says, standing up.

I turn, arching an eyebrow. “Yeah?”

Gavin glances around at the other men. “Are we done for the night? Let me talk to Oliver alone.”

Without saying a word, Kevin, Jason, and Joe get up, gather their things, and leave the room, each one casting sympathetic looks my way as they file out.

“What’s this all about?” I ask. “It’s a lot of money, but you know it’s not going to break me.”

Gavin stares at me for several moments before asking, “What if you could keep your money?”

I frown. “What do you mean? I got overconfident and lost fair and square.”

Gavin goes silent, studying my face. Finally, he speaks up. “I have a proposition for you.”

“What—”

“You do a favor for me and we’ll call it even.”

I want to tell Gavin to go fuck himself. I’m a man, and I pay my debts. But a part of me is intrigued now, and I’m dying to see what Gavin has up his sleeve. “What kind of favor?”

Gavin steeples his fingers together, staring at me, appraising me.

“Well?” I ask, the anticipation killing me. “What is it?’

His next words shoot across the table like a speeding bullet. “I need you to pretend to be a friend’s fiancé for a week.”

I let out an incredulous laugh. I was totally not expecting something like that. “What?”

Gavin proceeds to tell me all about his friend, who’s the godmother of his child and best friend of his wife, and how she’s gotten herself into a bind because of a lie.

“Absolutely not,” I say firmly when he’s done, shaking my head. I’m not gonna lie, his offer is tempting. But there’s no way I can accept it. I have too much lined up. Business meetings, lunch dates . . . and there were those repairs to my mom’s attic I’d promised her I’d fix myself instead of paying some stranger to do it. “I’m not disrupting my life and plans to be some chick’s cuckold for a week.”

Gavin leans forward in his seat. “Just think of it this way . . . you get to spend a week with a chick for over half a million dollars.”

“My half a million dollars,” I say dryly.

“Was your half million,” Gavin corrects. “And you can keep it if you just do this one little thing.”

I stare at him long and hard. His words are tempting enough, but it suddenly dawns on me how invested he is in this.

“You set this whole thing up,” I accuse. “You knew I was the only single guy in our circle. You’ve been waiting all night to try to get me in this position.”

Gavin manages to look guilty but doesn’t say anything.

I begin to get up from my seat. “I’m done—”

Gavin reaches into his pocket and tosses a small photograph across the table. As soon as I lay eyes on it, my mouth goes dry. The young woman in the photo is drop-dead gorgeous, with beautiful golden brown hair, gorgeous green eyes that sparkles with mischievousness, and an impish smile to match.

“Yeah, so what? I was getting shit for cards and had to make a move. I didn’t expect to flop those sevens—that was a miracle. Anyway, it’s one week,” Gavin nearly purrs, watching my intense interest in the photo. “And you have your money.”

His words hardly register. I can’t seem to bring myself to take my gaze off the picture. The playfulness in her eyes seems to call to me.

When I finally look away from it, I have only one question on my mind.

“What did you say her name was?”