“What I wish I’d done,” he says, looking momentarily sad before giving me a wink. “Don’t look back when you do.”
For the second time today, I’m reminded of how much I like Clayton, the first being when I caught him out on the street to talk before the game. As I had a feeling he would, he’d immediately agreed to keep Arty’s involvement with the sheriff asecret, even expressed regret at making him go in the first place.
“I was worried if I left, it might be Aiden on his own,” he had told me, frowning deeply, while the very idea of it also made me drift toward rage. “I know you were doing your best to put a stop to things as well. Seemed the easiest solution in the moment.”
“It was,” I reassured him. “But Maddock is the type to—”
“I know exactly the type he is,” Clayton replied, his look of guilt turning to one of disdain. “Which is why I’m back tonight. Needs addressing. I’ve already spoken to the bartender about watering down Maddock’s whiskey.”
“He’ll still do his best to make your night miserable. Sober or not,” I told him, while giving him a grateful smile. “You sure you’re not just a glutton for punishment?”
“Forhispunishment? Yes,” Clayton replied, now sounding angry, too. “I’ve known too many like him. Many during a time when I did not have the power to make their lives more difficult. If you get my meaning.”
“Very well,” I’d admitted, even more honest than I normally would be, in part because talking about Aiden made me almost as anxious as the note had to get inside quickly. “You don’t have to explain it to me.”
“No,” he said, openly considering me. “Had a feeling I might not. You’re ready then?”
“Of course.” I was already heading for the door and wondering how long it would be until I came back out to the alley. “Been waiting.”
Thinking about it now, the exchange should have left me more uneasy than it did. If Clayton has been able to work out that I am not entirely as I appear, then it means others could have, too. And given that I have already slipped more than once in front of Maddock…
Across the table, the man in question stares at his cards, the fact that he’s playing fairly well meaning he hasn’t bore muchmalice toward anyone else at the table so far. Still, the night is young.
“Fold,” he says, tossing down his cards like a child tosses down a toy that no longer pleases them, and the couple of his men that were still in the game quickly follow suit. Likely regardless of if they had a hand that could have kept them in.
Can’t win if the boss doesn’t.
“What about you, Cypress?” Charley asks, still in it along with Clayton and me. “You actually going to play at some point this week or are you just going to keep sitting there all moony-eyed?”
Damn.Really isn’t just Clayton that’s noticed then.
I smile, leaning forward with my elbows on the table and my hands clasped in front of me. “Can you blame me, Charley? When I have your sparkling blue eyes to stare at?”
“They’re green, you horse’s ass,” he replies, though I catch a grin hiding in the wrinkles on his face. “You’re lucky my wife isn’t here. Saying stuff like that.”
“Why? Wouldn’t she agree?”
“She would,” he says, smile broadening. “Which is why you’re lucky.”
Almost everyone at the table laughs, except Maddock, who has the type of dismal expression on his face that makes him look even worse than he had this morning. “Are you all going to finish the hand or not?” he asks, sitting with his arms folded across his chest. “Barely worth it if we can’t make it through more than a few rounds.”
I suppress the urge to roll my eyes before setting my cards face down on the table, still not entirely sure what I even have in hand because Aiden’s just stood to stretch and I’m too busy sneaking glances at the long expanse of his back as he leans against the bar. At the way his shoulders and biceps pull the fabric of his dark shirt taut. At the way he drags a hand across the whiskers on his jaw and— “Fold.”
There’s another short round of laughter, their heads shaking at my expense before Clayton claps me on the back in sympathy and leans in to mutter, “You sure you’re ready to do this?”
“Without question,” I say, pulling my gaze away from Aiden as something about the seriousness in his tone in contrast to the lightness I feel finally catches me. “Wait, ready to—”
“You might as well go ahead and start simply making donations at this point,” Maddock says before I can get my question out, unable to resist making a comment about my loss if it’ll make his own smart less. “If you’re going to play, at least try to make it interesting.”
“Well, that’s not a bad idea, Maddock,” Clayton replies for me, setting down a straight flush and smiling when Charley promptly swears and drops his own cards. “Wecouldmake things more interesting.”
I glance sideways at him, and his subtle nod tells me he thinks we’re on the same page. Only, I don’t even know what book we’re reading. Apparently I should have let Clayton explain it to me after all.Damn it.What have I agreed to?
“You have something in mind?” Maddock is asking, nearly echoing my silent question, and I do my best to keep my face neutral but interested as I get ready to pivot my plans. “Higher limit?”
“How aboutnolimit?” Clayton responds, gathering up the healthy stack of new additions to his winnings. “We go as high as that dwindling pocketbook of yours will allow.”
No, I think, finally understanding what he’s doing and answering his question far too late. Ordinarily, I’d take the opportunity being presented to me. Takeeverything. But I can’t. Not now…I’m not ready.