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Chapter nineteen

Nate

M andy opens the door barefoot, wearing gray skinny jeans and a striped shirt with the sleeves pushed up. Her hair’s in a messy bun that looks like it’s held together by hope and caffeine. No makeup. No effort. And I swear to god, she’s never looked hotter.

How is she the sexiest person alive?

She cocks an eyebrow, hand on the doorframe. "Brace yourself, I’m terrible at poker. I might need some tutoring."

I bite back a grin. “That sounds dangerous. I take tutoring very seriously.”

“Oh, I bet you do.”

I open the car door for her when we get downstairs. She pauses, one foot halfway in.

“You feeling chivalrous tonight or just scared I’ll drive?”

“I’ve seen how you take corners in that clunker you call a car. I’m just trying to make it to poker night alive.”

She snorts, hops in, and fastens her seatbelt with a little click that sounds way too satisfying.

***

Parker and Grace’s place is already packed with laughter and noise by the time we show up.

There’s a sign next to the door that says Welcome Puckheads.

Mandy points at it. “Cute.”

Parker opens the door with a beer in hand, grinning.

“Jones! And his better-looking half. Come on in.”

Grace’s head pops around the corner from the kitchen. “Drinks are labeled in the fridge! Beer, seltzer, soda, and mystery punch that James brought, so drink at your own risk.”

James is already at the poker table, sorting chips like he’s planning a heist.

“Everyone bring cash?” he calls. “Or are we playing for pride and leftover Halloween candy?”

Ethan drops onto the couch beside Connor and lifts a Tupperware. “I brought chips. Tortilla and poker.”

Connor deadpans, “We’ll try not to eat your ante.”

Mandy grabs a seltzer and plops beside me on the couch. Her leg brushes mine, and I’m instantly aware of how hot she looks in those pants.

“Place looks amazing,” she says to Grace.

Grace waves her off. “Thank you. I told Parker to stay out of the way, and voilà. Magic.”

“Hey,” Parker grumbles.

Across the room, James eyes Alex like he’s spotted prey.

“Yo, Chadwick. Where’s your better half? She doesn’t mix business with pleasure?”

Alex doesn’t even flinch. “She’s got a psychology conference dinner thing. Something about keynote speakers and fancy food that doesn’t involve poker chips or you, so... her loss.”

James makes a face. “Sure. Or maybe she just didn’t want to see you cry when I take all your money.”

“Please,” Alex says, sipping his drink. “You fold more often than I fold my laundry.”

Laughter ripples around the room.

Stacy high-fives Haley. “This is already my favorite game night.”

Mandy leans in and whispers to me, “Do they always bust chops like this before playing?”

“Constantly,” I whisper back. “It’s half the fun. It’s like they’re animals marking their territory.”

She grins. “Or foreplay.”

The girls and I bust out laughing. Grace nearly chokes on her drink, and Haley snorts so hard she startles Parker. Mandy’s still giggling when…

James glances over from the table. “What’s so funny?”

I smirk, leaning back. “Just watching you get busted by our future attorney. It's inspiring, really.”

James groans. “Mandy, I thought we were allies.” He fake-pouts, then adds with a wink, “Et tu, Brute?”

Mandy bats her lashes innocently. “Sorry, James. Loyalty gets rerouted when chips are on the line, and I've heard that your poker face is basically an open book.”

The girls crack up again while James clutches his chest like he’s been personally wounded. “Brutal,” he mutters. “She's spunky, Nate. I like it.”

***

We all gather around the poker table. Cards shuffle. Chips clack. Haley passes out little slips of paper with names drawn in Sharpie like we’re in middle school homeroom.

“Assigned seats?” James asks, eyeing his. “What is this, the eighth grade dance?”

“Don’t complain,” Grace says. “Last time you sat beside Ethan and you both cheated with signals.”

“That was not cheating,” Ethan says. “It was creative collaboration.”

“You tapped your cup every time you had a good hand.”

He shrugs. “Still lost to Stacy.”

Mandy and I end up side by side. She lays her cards down like she’s handling a tarot reading.

“You sure you’ve never played?” I ask, eyeing the neat little stack of chips she’s already won.

She shrugs. “Maybe once or twice. I think I’m getting the hang of it.”

James squints at her across the table. “You’re a killer. We should sign you on as another mental performance coach.”

“Or an enforcer,” Ethan says. “You sure you’re not a mob wife in disguise?”

Mandy doesn’t blink. “You think I’d waste mob-wife energy on poker night? Amateur hour.”

Everyone loses it.

Tanner grins. “Ten bucks says Nate’s letting her win.”

“She’s beating me too,” I say. “Either she’s really good, or I’m terrible.”

“Or both,” Connor adds with a smirk.

Mandy tosses a chip at him. “I just play smarter.”

She leans back in her chair, totally smug. I should be annoyed. I’m not. I’m mesmerized.

“How are you doing this?” I whisper.

She shrugs. “Law school. Bluffing is part of the curriculum.”

“I should’ve known.”

“Also, I’m very competitive.”

“You’re terrifying. In the best way.”

“Flatter me all you want, Jones. I’m still taking your chips.”

She wins another hand with a full house. I swear I see James mouth what the hell at Ethan.

"Maybe it's beginner's luck," she says shyly, jokingly.

I push back from the table a little and rest my hand on Mandy’s leg. “Okay, if you’re so good, come over here and guard my stack for me.”

She raises an eyebrow. “Are you surrendering?”

“Strategically repositioning.”

“Mmhm. Scoot over.”

She climbs onto my lap, tossing her legs across mine like it’s the most natural thing in the world. The whole table erupts.

James smirks. “And now we’re just making out mid-game?”

“Let them be cute. You’re just mad she’s better at poker than you,” Haley retorts.

Grace chimes in. “Someone take a photo. I need to frame this.”

She grins, turns back to the game, and places a casual bet that wipes out James’s last few chips.

He drops his cards. “That’s it. I’m done. This game is rigged.”

“You played yourself,” Connor says.

“I’m starting to think she’s actually some kind of agent,” Ethan says.

“She is,” I say, grinning. “And she’s mine.”

As the night winds down, the poker table starts thinning out. Drinks shift from beer to water. Voices soften.

Mandy’s curled up on the couch with Haley, Grace, and Stacy, laughing over some group text thread. Her feet are tucked under her, hair falling loose from the bun. Her eyes crinkle when she laughs.

I sit back with a beer and just watch her.

She’s not trying to impress anyone. She’s just... her.

I’m in trouble. And I’m not even mad about it.

Every time I’m around her, I forget what it’s like to be on guard.

“Final hand,” James calls. “Winner takes the last of the peanut butter cups.”

Mandy jumps in, rejoining the table.

She bluffs. Wins.

Fist-pumps like a dork.

Kisses my cheek.

And starts collecting her candy haul with the glee of someone who’s just robbed a bank.

She might’ve cleaned me out at the table.

But I’m already all-in, and I’m not bluffing.