Page 10 of Ly to Me (Devils of Alliston Springs #1)

Lyra

The Deal

“Need anything else, honey?”

I smoothed a hand over my bra strap. “I think this will do, for now.”

“Did you see the blouses we have?”

Lifting the bag, I turned for the door. “Like I said—this will do.”

“We have a sale next—” The door closed before I heard what else she’d beg me to buy.

The entirety of my belongings fit into my trunk with ease, and as much as I wanted to spend every last penny I could, I’d have nowhere to keep it all.

Flipping the card in my fingers, I smiled down at it before tucking it into my shorts.

I tossed the bag on the passenger seat as I slid into my car and drove back down the roads I tried so hard to forget. When my phone buzzed, I expected it to be Sophia, begging me for dick pics that I didn’t have or plan to ever have. An icy chill washed over me as I answered.

“Hello?”

“Hello, is this Ms. Lyra Thomas?”

I cleared my throat and straightened in my seat. “This is. Is there an update?”

The woman on the line paused as what sounded like paper rustled in the background. “He’s being moved to another room. Do you want to know the number this time?”

“No,” I answered quickly, then cleared my throat again. “Sorry, but not at the moment. I’m a little busy and don’t have a pen.”

“That’s fine. Do you want us to call—”

“I’ll call back tomorrow.” I hung up before she could gauge my animosity, which was thicker than the current humidity.

Growing up in Florida had taught me a lot of useless things—one of those being the ability to tell when rain was coming.

Not a single cloud in the sky, but tonight, or possibly tomorrow, the rain would flood out the house I grew up in.

The same house I was avoiding like the plague, picking Car’s over that hell-hole as the lesser of two evils.

Had he not shown that sliver of vulnerability the night before when he went down on me, I would have been gone before his fucking rooster could wake me.

I tossed my phone next to the bag as I pulled up to a stop sign, then sifted through the bag and pulled out one of the several lacy bras I put on his tab.

Forcing me to stay in his room at night was going to come at a price, and I intended for him to pay for it every step of the way.

A truck honked behind me, then drove around my stopped car, blaring their horn over and over as they shouted through their closed window.

As they drove around me, I waved at them with a sweet smile plastered on—the same smile that drew Jamie, and most other men, to me.

Brakes illuminated before the truck moved in reverse, but this time, the window was down.

A rather attractive man in the driver’s seat leaned over, gesturing for me to roll my window down. As I did so, I stuffed the lace back into the bag.

“Can I help you?” I let the southern twang fill my throat and nose as I batted my lashes.

He grinned, dragging a tattoo-covered hand through his brown hair. “Can I help you ?” Swiping his tongue over his bottom lip, I shuddered in my seat.

“I’m fine. Almost home.” Home was far from what I’d called Carver’s house.

His eyes flicked down to my chest as he smacked his teeth. “Only one house I know of on this road and it’s all the way down at the end. You a Hughes?”

Hughes? That must be Jamie’s last name. “No. Just visiting him.”

“Ahh. Is that right?” He mumbled to himself as he started searching for something in his car.

“Yeah.” My nails dug into my thighs.

The guy stopped digging through his glove box. “What are you wagering tonight?”

“Excuse me?”

The laugh he gave sent more ice through my limbs. “Poker night at the house. The guys didn’t tell you?”

“Oh, yeah. That.” I’d had no clue, but flipped my hair over my shoulder like I knew about it.

Scooping a finger-full of dip out, he shoved it between his gum and bottom lip. He was good-looking. Too good-looking to be ruining his teeth with dip. Then again, there I was with a half pack of cigarettes at my side. “You sure you’re with Jamie?”

“Pretty sure.”

“Huh.” I could hear his truck’s gears shift out of park, and my nails stopped assaulting my thigh. “Wonder how many Carver invited. You don’t have a friend in there?”

“No.” I shrugged, evaluating the pristine paint on his truck, thinking about how pretty my keys could make it. He may have meant well. He may even be a decent guy, but most men, if not all, made a beast come alive inside me.

“Right.” He sucked on his dip, showing a flash of teeth that weren’t the slightest bit yellow. “Just remember—any wager is acceptable.” He winked, then drove off in the same direction I was supposed to be heading.

I rolled my head to the side and pressed the window button, allowing the glass to glide over the top of my head as it closed.

If Sophia were here, she’d tell me to suck it the fuck up and do what I have to do, even if she had no clue what that was.

There weren’t many people I’d let my walls down for, and while I drove toward the one who knocked every brick down, I tried not to call the other, knowing exactly what her response would be.

Suck it the fuck up, Lyra Thomas.

Trucks dotted the driveway, or more like filled it. Jamie’s back flashed through one of the living room windows, and I grabbed the bags before getting out and walking up to the front porch.

Music and smoke consumed my senses as I stepped through the door without knocking.

Two men with cards in their hands froze, the one from earlier tilting a beer bottle against his lips.

But their attention on me was only a fraction of what I felt when Carver turned in his seat and slid his blue eyes to mine, then to my bag.

He rubbed the side of his jaw, then somehow managed to appear more pissed off as Jamie entered the room.

“Ay, there she is!” The guy from the white truck that was littered with a dozen or more country boy stickers pulled out the empty chair between him and Carver. “Saved you a seat, pretty thing.” That palpable, stone-cold anger written all over Car’s face intensified.

I smiled, eyeing the only other woman in the room who promptly sat on Jamie’s lap. He cleared his throat, his body visibly tensing. Now I understood the guy’s confusion when I said I was there for Jamie. Guess he was already spoken for tonight.

I let my sweet smile broaden. “You saved me a seat? You’re so sweet.” I dropped my bag right by Carver’s feet, then slid into the chair and tapped the guy’s forearm, letting my finger stay a bit longer than simply being friendly allowed for. “You never even gave me your name.”

“You know him?” Jamie asked, the woman in his lap oblivious to the dejected tone he was using.

I dragged my finger from his forearm to the table.

“We met down the road at a stop sign. Little lady stopped too long, probably checking her makeup.” Another guy across from us gave me a quick once-over with his hazel eyes, then gave a single nod as if what the other man said I was doing made total sense, though makeup had been far from my mind.

Sexist assholes.

The guy beside me slung his arm over the back of my chair. “I’m Grant. And you are…”

“Lyra,” Carver answered for me, glaring at Grant’s arm.

“Lyra, do you want me to teach you how to play?” I blinked at the cards, refraining from letting him know I already knew how.

Probably better than he could.

“Oh, what a kind man you are. That would be wonderful!”

“Hayes, deal.” Carver tapped his fingers on the table and spread his legs wide, bumping into one of mine. Heat bloomed immediately at the contact, and I smoothed my hands down my front, ending with a flick to Carver’s knee.

He didn’t budge.

“We’re playin’ Texas hold ’em. This first round will be to show you”—Grant waved his hand, signaling for Hayes to skip me—“how to play.” Grant leaned in closer to whisper in my ear, and Carver’s leg pressed harder against mine. “Keep an eye on my cards and learn how the big boys do it.”

“Don’t act like you don’t lose every time.” Carver pulled the remnants of a blunt from behind his ear, then lit it before picking up his two cards.

“Most of poker is bluffing, or acting like your cards ain’t shit when they really are, or the other way ’round. Carver here is good at it.”

My brows shot up. “You mean he’s a good liar?” I feigned surprise, and Carver pulled his leg away, but kept his I-don’t-give-a-fuck posture as he took a hit.

Smoke plumed around me as he exhaled. “When he’s not growing or screwing, I’m pretty sure he’s working on his game,” Hayes answered with a deep voice that matched his broad appearance—broad shoulders, chest, and biceps stretching a fitted T, and if I looked beneath the table, I’d wager his thighs were thick enough to bust a watermelon.

The man was terrifyingly big, but in a way that looked like most of his muscle had been formed from hard labor or some kind of demanding sport, yet didn’t refuse a meal if offered.

“Who says I can’t do it all at the same time?” Carver moved the blunt from one hand to the other, and right before he slid that hand into his lap, I caught sight of a red line matching the one on my knee.

If that had been from the glass I left him to clean up, then I was fucked.

“Ante up, fuckers,” Grant said, angling his cards just enough for me to see them—a seven of clubs and a two of hearts. Nothing spectacular off the bat. Still, he threw in a few chips, clattering like my plans crashing around me.

Everyone around the table tossed their chips in, all except for Jamie’s new…

whatever she was, who folded. “My money’s on you, big guy,” she purred, wrapping her arms around Jamie’s neck.

She was attractive, blonde flowing loose curls with short-shorts that showed off her toned legs and a blouse that woman from the store in town would lose her mind over in a bad way.

He certainly had a type.

“Your hair is gorgeous,” I admitted, twirling mine between my fingers as the guys all threw in more chips. “Where do you get it done?”