The Gambler (22 page)

Nausea stirred in her gut as she thought about him with someone else. A wife who wouldn’t understand their relationship . . . and would be right not to.

She took another breath, hoping her hands didn’t start to shake, and decided it was safer to move on. “This is your head line.” The pad of her index finger rubbed over the line running above his life line. “You’re very intelligent.” She glanced up at him through her lashes. “But we knew that already.”

A gleam of reassurance filled his eyes. He always joked about being an idiot and a fool. It shocked her to realize that part of him actually believed it, his academic achievements in his teens and in college notwithstanding.

“See how it curves and is so long?” she asked, waiting for him to look. “That means you’re a creative thinker and problem solver.” Creative thinker, but not necessarily creative. What did she make of that?

“And my heart line?”

“Why are you so insistent on your heart line?” She was scared to study it.

“I want to know what my future holds.”

“Sometimes surprises are good.”

“What does it say?” he prodded.

She dragged her gaze from his again. She’d looked into his eyes for months without feeling this way, though she’d noticed from the start they were the perfect color—a warm golden brown. Why was she so drawn to them now? “It says . . .”

Noah’s phone rang and they both jumped, caught by surprise. He groaned and reluctantly pulled his hand from Libby’s. “I better check to see who it is.” Then he groaned again and rejected the call.

“Anything important?” she asked.

He frowned. “No, just some work thing.”

“Shouldn’t you take it?”

“No.” His answer was firm as he held out his hand. “Are you going to finish with my love line?”

She gave him a sad smile. “We both know how that one goes.”

“No, Lib. You don’t.”

Was he right? Could they really work? Because she knew that’s what he meant. The real question was what he wanted. A quick fling or something more? What if he didn’t run away from her if she told him she loved him? Could she really take the risk? She was terrified. She’d lost so much. She couldn’t lose him too.

“Why did you propose to Mitch?”

“What?”

“Libby.” He was more insistent. “I know about the curse.”

She looked up at him, blinking in confusion. “What?”

“The curse. You told me about the pact, but Josh told me about the curse.”

Humiliation burned her face. “What do you know?”

“I know you want to uphold the pact you and your friends made when you were girls, and I also know you believe you were cursed by a fortune teller.”

She closed her eyes. “And?”

“I’d rather hear it from you.” His voice was soft and understanding.

Her eyes opened. “You want to hear that I asked Mitch to marry me so the guy I was supposed to marry would show up?”

“Who was supposed to show up, Libby?”

Tears filled her eyes. “It’s stupid, I know. But the fortune teller said our weddings would be disasters and each of us would marry someone other than our intended.” She sucked in a breath. “It worked for Megan and Blair, so why wouldn’t it work for me? Especially since I was the one who believed in the curse the most. So I proposed to Mitch, expecting
him
to show up.”

His eyes hardened. “
Who
, Libby?
Who
did you expect to show up?”

Her voice broke. “I don’t know.”

His shoulders sagged, then he took her hand and cradled it between both of his.

She gave him a half-shrug. “Megan met Josh on that plane and Blair never thought she’d see Garrett again. Neither of them expected to marry the men they married. Megan didn’t even know Josh.” She paused. “I thought something like that would happen to me.”

“So that’s why you let Mitch plan the wedding and wouldn’t let him pay for it.” He seemed to be saying it more to himself than her. “You never wanted to marry him?”

“You must think I’m a total bitch.”

He slowly shook his head. “No, Lib. I love that about you.”

“That I intentionally hurt Mitch?” she asked in disbelief.

“No. That you believed in something so much you risked everything to make it happen.”

“Fat lot of good it did me. Tomorrow’s my birthday and look where I’m at.”

“You’re with me.” He studied her face as he wiped a tear from her cheek. “Libby, did you ever really think about who you were supposed to marry?”

She shook her head, but a little voice inside her head was screaming that the answer might be right in front of her. But her palm told her differently. Which did she believe? The curse or the lines on her palm? Could she believe in one without the other? She swallowed the lump in her throat. “It doesn’t work that way. I wasn’t supposed to know.”

“Think about it
now.
Tomorrow’s your birthday. Who are you supposed to marry?”

Was he saying what she thought he was? “The curse isn’t real, Noah.”

His gaze held hers. “I think it is.”

“You’re not superstitious,” she whispered.

His finger lightly traced her jaw, sending shivers of need down her spine. “I am now.”

She wanted this more than she’d ever wanted anything in her life, but now that she might actually have a shot at it, the fear that she would screw it up terrified her. She jumped off the stool. “I want to play poker.”

His eyes widened. “
Poker?
Right
now?
”

“Yes.”

“You hate poker.”

“I want to play anyway, but I need another drink first.”

She flagged down a waitress and ordered another mojito. Noah watched her for a moment before ordering another gin and tonic.

Her life was shit. She might as well get drunk.

She knew it was stupid and irresponsible, yet that’s what she was. Irresponsible. Just ask anyone. No wonder the curse hadn’t worked for her. She didn’t deserve it.

“I need to go the bathroom before we play poker.”

She’d had several drinks and she really did have to pee often, but he recognized what she was doing. He held on to her hand when she tried to pull away. “Don’t run away, okay? Promise me you won’t run away.”

She looked into his eyes. “You’re still safe.”

For now
hung in the air as he dropped her hand and watched her walk into the restroom.

Noah’s phone rang and he reluctantly pulled it from his pocket. Tiffany had called earlier. He knew he needed to set up a time to meet her, but he didn’t want to think about Tiffany when he was with Libby. It might have been different if he hadn’t slept with Abrahams’s assistant earlier in the year. It felt disrespectful to call her while he was with Libby, but how could he hope to make a life with the woman he loved if he didn’t have a job?

He needed to talk to Tiffany, as much as it killed him to do so.

But Tiffany wasn’t the person on the other end of the phone. Noah wasn’t sure whether to be irritated or thankful. “Hey, Gram. I thought you were at that old geezers’ show. They spit out their dentures already?”

She released a belly laugh. “Ruby was snoozing in her chair.”

“I was not!” Garrett’s nana shouted.

Gram snorted. “Yes, you were, old woman. I can’t help if it you have the napping hours of a farm hand.”

“I own a damn farm!” Ruby protested.

“Why do you think I used that analogy?”

“Gram,” Noah asked. “Am I on speaker phone?”

“Seemed easier this way.” She cleared her throat. “Obviously, we left. How are things goin’ with you and Libby?”

“Fine. She’s in the restroom.” He couldn’t very well tell her what was really going on.

“Fine?” she barked. “Is she wearing that little black thing?

“Uh . . . yeah . . .”

“And things are just
fine?
”

“What does that mean?”

“It means I don’t know what it’s going to take to get the two of you to hook up if that dress didn’t do the trick. Do I have to lock you in a room?”

“Is it that obvious?”

“Of course it’s obvious,” Ruby cut in. “A camel dying of thirst in the desert would spit his last sip of water to put out the damn fire between you two. Why do you think we’re
really
here?”

That rattled around in his head for a few seconds.

“So?” Gram demanded. “What the hell are you doin’ to get the girl?”

“Maybe Libby should be the one trying to get me,” Noah said. “I thought you were a feminist, Gram.”

“Damn straight I am, but you and I both know that girl’s even more of a commitment-phobe than you are.”

“I said that too!” Ruby shouted.

“Commitment-phobe? But she planned a wedding . . .” Noah said. “She believes in the curse.”

Ruby laughed. “Boy, you got a lot to learn, don’t ya?”

“Yes, ma’am?” His voice rose, uncertain that was the right answer.

“Good boy. Admittin’ you don’t know everything is the first step to pullin’ your head outta your ass.”

He couldn’t help but laugh.

“Libby’s like a kid who wants to go to the amusement park and ride a rollercoaster,” Ruby said. “She’s excited to get there, but she starts to chicken out before getting on the ride. She just needs some encouragement.”

Noah grew indignant. “I’m not pushing her to do anything she doesn’t want to do.”

“You take me for an idiot, boy?” Nana Ruby barked.

Noah jumped even though the woman was on the phone. “No, ma’am.”

“Nobody said anything about dragging her onto the damn ride and tying her in.”

“Unless she’s into that
Fifty Colors of Gray
BS stuff,” Gram said. “Then she might like to be tied in.”

“It’s BDSM,” Ruby corrected. “Not BS.”

“Oh, yeah. That’s what Megan said. How’d
you
know?” Gram asked.

There was a pause before Ruby answered, “I might have read it.”

“
Might
have?” Gram asked. “How did you
might have
read it? Did you whack your head and get amnesia after you finished?”

“No, dammit!” Ruby shouted. “Okay, I read it. Then I joined MatureSingles.com.”

“And?” Gram encouraged.

“I met a man! Are you happy? Don’t you dare tell those prude daughters of mine that I found a man who’s into spanking.”

“Okay!” Noah interrupted. “That’s TMI!”

“Only if she leaves her jaw open too long for oral sex,” Gram said. “Do you, Ruby?”

“Oh, my God, Gram!” Noah shouted, drawing the looks of the people around him. He wasn’t sure he’d ever get that mental image out of his brain. “That’s
TMJ
, not TMI.”

“Oh, then what’s TMI?”

“Too much information,” Ruby supplied.

“How’d you know that?” Gram asked.

“I got a Twitter account.”

“I have one too and I still didn’t know that.”

“My grandkids taught me to use it,” Ruby added smugly.

“Huh,” Gram said, then returned her attention to Noah. “So is Libby into BPM?”

“I give up,” Ruby groaned.

“I don’t know if she is or not. It hasn’t come up in discussion.” Noah’s face was burning. “I haven’t even kissed her yet.”

“What?” Gram shouted.

“Maybe he’s old-fashioned,” Ruby said.

That seemed to appease Gram since she swung the conversation a different direction. “Are you like those fundamentalist Christians who think they should fill their baskets full of kids?”

“What?”

“Their quivers,” Ruby said. “How do you get everything so
wrong?
”

“Quiver? I
bet
those kids are quivering with lust. They can’t even hold hands or hug before they get engaged, and they don’t kiss until the wedding. I bet they don’t last thirty seconds on their wedding night. You don’t want that happening with Libby, do you?”

Noah stifled a groan. How was he having this conversation with two grandmothers? “
Look
, I appreciate the advice, but I know how to handle women.”

Both women started cackling.

“What?” he asked defensively.

“There’s a difference between handling tarts and handling the woman you want to marry,” Ruby said. “And it’s plain as day that Libby’s scared to make a commitment. Now how are you going to deal with that?”

“My plan was to give her all the space she needs . . . but that dress . . .”

Gram chuckled. “That’s why I called it a lucky dress. It’ll help you two get lucky.”

But he still didn’t think that was what she needed from him. She needed to know he was going to stick around. “I just did everything short of flat-out telling her I love her and want to marry her, and she jumped up like I’d shot her and said she wanted to play poker.”

“Libby hates to gamble,” Gram murmured.

“I know.”

“She’s gonna go looking for another man,” Gram said. “That’s what she does.”

“She already did,” Noah said, trying not to sound defeated. “But she didn’t do anything.”

“That’s good,” Gram encouraged. “That sounds like progress.”

“She told me she wants to take time away from relationships. If that’s what she wants, I’m going to give it to her.”

“While you play with your strumpets?” Ruby asked.