Page 109 of Snowbound Surrender

Miranda turned as he swept by and headed for the door and out into the hall. Was he trying to leave her? But no, that was physically impossible.

“What do we need?” she called after him, but he was already gone.

If Randall didn’t finda way to discharge the energy that had been building in him for the past few days as he and Miranda circled closer and closer, he would likely spend the rest of his life walking funny. He marched into the saloon proper, snatching a bottle of whiskey from behind the bar and a pack of playing cards from one of the tables in the corner. Days-worth of hovering in the scintillating space between respectability and notoriety had left him aching and exhausted. It was time to make a choice one way or another. But for that, they needed a little bit of social lubrication.

“What do we need?” Miranda demanded, more than a little frazzled, as he stomped back into the apartment.

Instead of answering, he plopped the bottle of whiskey on the table, followed by the deck of cards. “Poker. Five card stud is simplest.”

Miranda blinked at the whiskey and the cards, then blinked at him. “I don’t understand.”

“We’ve done all of the responsible, productive things there are to do in this building. There’s nothing left. We’ve done it all. It’s time we worked our way through all of the idle, irresponsible ones.”

“With whiskey and cards?” She took a step closer to the table.

“Do you know how to play poker?” he asked, pulling out a chair.

Pink-faced, Miranda sat with him. “Uncle Buford taught me to play.”

He nodded. “Have you ever had whiskey?”

Her pinkness deepened. “I sampled some of what the saloon has in stock just to see what it tastes like when I first got here. But only just a little.”

He nodded a second time, then set to work shuffling the cards. This idea of his was still unformed and half crazy, but if he didn’t do something with his hands and his mind…then he’d end up doing other things with his hands and his mind.

Miranda watched him, perched anxiously on the edge of her chair, cheeks staying as pink as roses. “Will we…will we need glasses for the whiskey?”

Randall shook his head. “We’ll drink out of the bottle.”

She glanced from the bottle to him. “Both of us?”

“Yep.”

She just sat there in stunned silence, rippling with tension. The kind of tension that made him certain they were headed for a point of no return. That’s the only reason he could think of for her to have suddenly turned so peevish with him. She wanted what he wanted, and she wanted it bad. Now he needed something along the lines of a coin toss to figure out if he was going to give in and pull her along with him. He finished shuffling and dealt them each five cards, then set the deck to one side.

They both picked up their cards. Randall’s hand was nothing impressive. But in all the poker games he’d played all throughout the country with all sorts of opponents, he’d learned that most poker hands weren’t impressive. The game was partially the luck of the draw, but more about bluffing the other guy. Or girl.

Miranda arranged the cards in her hands with fingers that trembled just slightly. She licked her lips, squirmed in her seat. “Okay, I’m ready.” She met his eyes across the table. A moment later, her determined expression faltered. “Hold on, what are we playing for? We don’t have any chips. I could go fetch some from the saloon.” She started to put her cards face down on the table.

“No,” he stopped her. “We’ll play for something else.”

Her brow crinkled into a frown, all of her exasperation back. “What? Honestly, Randall, I have no idea what you’re thinking or what you’re aiming for right now.”

A roguish grin pulled at the corners of his lips. “We’re playing to uncover the truth.”

“What truth?” Her voice rose a few notes, grew stronger.

“The truth of what’s going on here.”

“Whatisgoing on here?” She grew more frustrated still.

“The highest stakes you could possibly imagine.”

She burst with a growl of frustration. “I swear to you, Randall Sinclair, if you don’t tell me what we’re playing this silly game for, then I’m going to march out into that snow, and believe me, I’m angry enough right now that I’d melt a path all the way down Main Street to the church!”

His grin widened to a more genuine smile. He had no doubt that she would.

“We’re playing to find out how we really feel about each other.” He tipped his hand…the metaphorical one, at least.