Bet on Ice (Boys of Winter #9) - S.R. Grey Page 0,2
I so have this.”
I chortle. “Wanna bet, sweetheart?”
Cricket cocks her head, and damn, she really is one spectacular woman.
And I am one smitten fool.
“So,” she says slowly, “by ‘wanna bet,’ do you mean you’d like to make a side wager? If so, I’m up for one.”
Ah, a woman after my own heart.
I think I may be in love.
Okay, not love, but definitely in lust.
Nodding, I reply, “Now that you mention it, I do mean exactly that.”
“Okay, sure, let’s do it. And since I know I’m going to win, you don’t even have to tell me what you want for our little side wager. How do you like that?”
“I like it,” I say. “Don’t bother telling me what you want, either.”
“I won’t.” She smiles smugly. “This is going to be so much fun, watching you lose.”
“That’s not happening,” I declare as I flip my cards over with complete confidence.
Not missing a beat, Cricket does the same with her own cards.
We both look down at the same time.
Yes!
She has two queens—that’s twenty.
It’s not enough.
“I won,” I declare. “Just like I told you I would.”
She rolls her eyes, muttering, “Whatever.”
Reaching forward, I haul in the chips.
And this time they really are all mine.
With her beautiful full lips poised in a sexy pout, Cricket asks, “So what do I owe you for our side bet?”
“That’s easy.” I smile over at her. “Just go out with me.”
Her eyes widen. “Like what? On a date?”
I laugh. “Exactly like on a date, yes.”
Why does she look so uneasy all of a sudden?
Frowning, she says, “Okay, I’ll give you my number. But can we make a final decision on this date thing tomorrow?”
Huh?
This is weird.
“Tomorrow? Er, uh, I guess. Why do we have to wait, though? Are you married and your divorce becomes final at midnight or something?”
“No,” she states quietly, “it’s nothing like that.”
“Well, that’s good to know,” I mutter.
Still, I am so confused.
Cricket pulls out a pen and a slip of paper from her purse and jots down her phone number.
As she hands me the paper, she says, “Trust me on this waiting thing. It really is for the best.”
What choice do I have?
Shaking my head, thinking Cricket sure is one hot mess, I tell her, “Sure. We can play this however you want.”
We can too, however bizarre it’s all become.
I have no idea why, either.
Guess I’ll just have to wait and find out tomorrow.
Mixing Business with Pleasure
Oh, hell! What did I just do?
Ugh, I know what I did. I foolishly made a wager with freaking Landen Zehner, and now the big beautiful blond left winger for the Las Vegas Wolves wants to go out with me on a date.
Not that I’m averse to the idea, as he is beyond hot.
Oh, and by the way, I know all about him. Pretending that I didn’t was just an act.
Landen is twenty-six and a relatively new arrival to Las Vegas. He was traded to the Wolves from the Islanders this past summer. He’s a forward who plays left wing and is friends with right winger Blake Cavaletti, another fairly new Wolves acquisition who plays on his line.
Other facts I know about Landen are that he’s not married or currently involved with anyone, nor does he have kids.
I’ve also heard he’s a bit of a bad boy.
I like the bad boy part.
Landen is my kind of guy.
Oh, and I certainly don’t “not” like him.
That was an act as well.
Kind of like me pretending I didn’t know I was playing cards with three hot and sexy Wolves players.
It was all just a ploy to lie low.
I saw no reason to stroke their already big egos.
So I chose to let them think I was clueless about who they are and what they do for a living.
It’s funny that since I was at the VIP table, they probably assume I’m some kind of a high roller.
That makes me laugh, as it couldn’t be further from the truth.
I was only in that back room because I’m friends with the blackjack dealer, Bettina. She and I went to graduate school together. I finished my MBA seven months ago, back in May.
Bettina, though, has one more semester to go.
The money she makes dealing cards in the back room of one of the biggest casinos on the Strip helps pay her way.
“Enough about Bettina,” I murmur as I pull up to my townhouse on the west side of Vegas. “Let’s get back to Landen.”
Yes, let’s.
It’s amusing that he thinks I have no idea who he is.