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But then Sally shocks the shit out of me and does what I told her for once. She rises out of her chair, and her eyes glimmer as she saunters the two steps it takes to get to me.Then she puts a hand on my shoulder and settles her weight on my lap before turning to the side and swinging her legs over my thighs, flashing a whole lot of smooth, soft skin in the process as the slit in her dress practically rides up to her belly button.

Fuck.

Me.

For life.

The scent of her flowery body lotion—I figured out it’s jasmine—fills my head. My entire being leaps at her nearness. At the flirty, playful way she snakes her arm around my shoulders and shimmies her ass, giving me the friction I desperately want but absolutely don’t need right now.

But her eyes, her smile, her general naughtiness, are the real turn-on.

She puts her other hand on my chest and asks breathlessly, “This better?”

“Much.” The word comes out as a grunt.

Sally runs the tip of her tongue along her top teeth. “You gonna show me the ropes, cowboy?”

Can’t. Stop. Staring.

At her mouth mostly.

Does she feel the buzzy, tight energy between us too? Or am I losing my mind?

The only thing keeping our faces more than an inch apart is the brim of my hat. I think about taking it off. I don’t, thanks to the few remaining shreds of self-control and dignity I have left.

“What kinda ropes we talking about, Sunshine?”

“Toby Keith did say something about roping and riding going together.” She’s fighting laughter, and I fucking love it.

I wanna kiss you so bad it hurts.

“Interesting,” I say.

“Y’all need a minute, or should I, uh, deal?” Sawyer asks.

The hand Sally’s got on my chest moves to my nape. I bitedown on my cheek when she starts to toy with my hair. Goose bumps break out along my arms and legs at the tender, easy way she touches me, drawing her fingertips gently across my scalp.

“Yes.” Apparently, I only speak in one-worded sentences now.

I opened the floodgates, didn’t I, by holding Sally’s hand back in the truck? I showed her how simple flirting could be, and she took that idea and ran with it.

Who knew she was a natural? She’s clearly not overthinking this. Instead, she’s…present. Carefree even. The idea makes my chest soar.

I can feel Beck’s eyes on Sally and me as my brother deals the cards.

Because I’m an asshole—why not stir the pot?—I curl my hand around her hip and use it to shift her a little bit more toward the table, her back to my front. Her hand falls from my nape, but this way, I’m able to rest my chin on her shoulder and murmur sweet nothings in hear ear about gambling like a degenerate.

“Okay, so those are the communal cards, and we can all use them.” She motions to the five cards that Sawyer dealt face down on the table.

“Exactly.”

“And these”—she takes the pair of cards out of my hand—“are just for us, and we use the communal cards to make the best combination.”

“Right. We’re looking for patterns—numbers, suits. Pairs of things, three of a kind. Flushes are what you really want because?—”

“Flushes are five cards of the same suit, right?”

Sawyer’s lips twitch. “Something tells me we’re gonna have another card shark on our hands.”