Page 36 of Love or Leave (Mapleton #4)

thirty-one

C ara walked into the poker room at the racetrack casino fifteen minutes early and glanced around. She wanted to get there early so she could snag a late position seat to the right of the dealer.

She'd been in big poker tournaments before and had it on her bucket list to qualify for the world series of poker one day. For now, it was just a fun distraction. She didn't know why she hadn't entered a tournament in so long.

Probably because she didn't really have any friends that played, and she couldn't stomach going alone.

She tipped her chin toward the ceiling and marched to an empty table, setting her beer precisely to her right before taking a seat.

Seconds later, a middle-aged guy in a leather jacket claimed the chair beside her.

Another minute passed, and a man in a hoodie and sunglasses slid into the seat across from her.

She smiled to herself but kept a neutral face. They were already sizing each other up.

Neither of those two were going to be the love of her life, but she'd happily take all their money. Also, the ratio of men to women was promising. Possibly even better than golf.

Why hadn't she started scouting dating prospects here instead?

She shook off the thought, took out her phone and opened a Scrabble game to distract herself until the table was ready to start. One good thing that came from Antonio was Scrabble to eliminate anxiety. She'd just started playing when she got a text. From Antonio.

Her face soured. It was his first attempt at communication since last weekend—she was expecting it to come eventually. What she didn't know was how it would go. Would he try to get back together? Would he try to smooth things over?

She'd already decided she would do her best to be civil and move on. Reconciliation wasn’t on the horizon, of that she was certain. But they were part of the same friend group. She really didn't want to make it awkward for everyone.

She braced herself with a deep breath and opened the text.

Antonio: Don't tell me you're playing Scrabble to distract yourself before Poker.

She pulled back from shock, then glanced up on instinct. He wasn't there, was he?

She scanned the room, and it only took a second before their eyes connected. He was standing at the bar, waiting for a beer. He gave her a smile and a wave before looking down at his phone.

How the hell did he know she was going to be there?

Antonio: Your poker face isn't as good as you think.

She rolled her eyes.

Antonio: Eye roll = You're annoyed with me. Save me a seat.

She glared at him before responding.

Absolutely not, she wrote, but before she could hit send, he was already on his way over to her.

He took the seat to the left of the dealer, directly across from her. He set down his beer and pulled out his phone.

Antonio: Act like we don't know each other.

She wanted to throw her drink at him.

Cara: I'm here to play poker. Not your mind games.

Antonio: Poker is a mind game, beautiful.

Cara: Don't call me that.

Antonio: This reminds me of the bus. Best weekend of my life.

Okay, that was it. That was the straw that broke her camel’s back.

As she was about to stand and walk out, a grisled old man took the last seat, put down his cane, and told the dealer to hurry and deal, as if everyone hadn't been waiting on him.

Cara put her phone on mute, shoved it into her pocket, then forced herself to think of the physics equations she'd been using that day in her lab to keep a neutral expression.

Maybe sticking around and taking all of Antonio's money would be cathartic.

She glanced up at him while the dealer ran through the rules and found him smiling like a dope around the table.

"Is it deuces wild?" Antonio asked the dealer.

Interesting. He was taking the noob approach.

"This is Texas Hold'em," the dealer said. "Nothing is wild. Are you sure you're in the right place?"

If his plan was to appear incompetent, it was working. He widened his eyes and looked around, then shrugged and pushed his gigantic pile of chips to the side to draw attention to it.

"I'm just gonna build the plane as I fly it, so to speak. I've always wanted to play poker."

Cara kept quiet as Antonio sold a lie to the table that he was a dummy with deep pockets. And they all gobbled it up.

The dealer dealt the hand. She peeked at her cards. A king and a jack. Both hearts. Not bad.

Antonio looked at his cards and let the corner of his mouth lift. He picked up a chip and tossed it into the center of the table. But before the kid wearing the hoodie could call or raise, Antonio reached back into the center to pick the chip back up.

"Bro, you can't do that?" Hoodie guy said.

"A chip laid is a chip played," Grisled guy said.

"Oh, sorry, friends," Antonio said.

When she finally looked up, he was staring right at her.

"Can we start over?" Antonio asked her.

Cara pursed her lips when a smile threatened to show. She had no intention of starting anything over with him, but she had to admit—it was a clever approach, disguising it as part of the game.

A game within a game. Dammit. Why did he have to be so… likeable?

Cara sharpened her voice. "No."

He deflated as the rest of the table erupted into various accusations and name calling.

The dealer got everyone back under control before explaining to Antonio, as if he were a small child, that he couldn't renege a bet.

"Fine," Antonio said, staring at Cara as he tossed his chip back into the center of the table. "But I'm still in this."

Cara ignored him while the dealer rolled his eyes.

"You have no choice but to be in it," he said.

"Exactly," Antonio said with a snap of his fingers. "It's like fate or something."

"Or bad decision making," Biker guy said.

Cara snorted but covered it just as quickly.

The bet went around the table and everyone called, then the dealer flipped over the flop. A two, another king, and a three. Cara had a pair of kings. A great hand. But the two and three were concerning. Someone could've been sitting on the makings of a straight.

"Ooo…" Antonio said, as he picked up five chips and threw them in the pot.

The other guys narrowed their eyes at him, but she knew he had to be bluffing.

Hoodie and Biker folded, but Grisled stayed in.

She grabbed five chips and tossed them on the pile, avoiding eye contact with Antonio. The dealer flipped the next card.

Six of diamonds.

Shit.

Antonio smiled and grabbed a big handful of chips. He tossed them into the center, but Grisled hesitated. Obviously, Antonio had a straight. Or at least that's what he wanted everyone to believe. It was a perfect hand to bluff on.

After a few seconds of staring Antonio down, Grisled called.

Now it was her turn to call, raise, or fold.

Grisled probably had a pocket pair, but unless they were aces, he couldn't beat her, and the likelihood of getting pocket aces was low.

Antonio was the real threat.

Was he bluffing?

She stared at him until he met her eyes, and his fake smile dropped. He blinked and gave her a sincere look, and she promptly blinked away.

She would likely win the hand if she stayed in—and she'd love to beat him—but she hated that she was allowing herself to get sucked back in by him.

It had to stop.

"Fold," she said, tossing aside her hand. "I'm not still in this."

Antonio's face dropped at the phrase she threw back at him.

"You win," the dealer said, looking at Antonio, added "somehow” under his breath.

Cara gathered her chips and stood.

"Cara," Antonio said, his voice laced with urgency. "I don't want you to go—"

She gave a slight shake of her head, avoiding his eyes, but she was spared from answering. Before he could finish what he was saying, the table erupted.

Hoodie and Grisled leapt out of their chairs, hurling accusations of cheating. Biker sat still, fists on the table, threatening to kill everyone.

She decided she was better off walking away entirely—much like she'd emotionally done with Antonio. He was a bad hand that required more risk than she could afford to take.

Hopefully, he got the message.