Game (Gentry Boys, #3)(9)

Chase nodded, his eyes on the television.

Once I was behind the bathroom door I took a deep breath. Chase had officially rattled me. As I pulled the zipper of the dress down I kept imagining it was his hands instead of mine tugging the fabric down, cupping my breasts, feeling between my legs—

STOP!!

I felt shaky as I picked the dress up from where it had puddled on the tile. I hung it on a hook behind the door. As I leaned against the cool surface of the wall for a minute I caught sight of myself in the vanity mirror.

I knew I wasn’t ugly. My body had never filled out enough to catch the interest of most men, but my face was all right. My hair was dark blonde, curly and long. It was the only feature I was even a little proud of, even though it was so unmanageable it drove me crazy half the time. But it was the exact same style I’d had since I was a little girl and I never did anything other than trim it. It was also exactly the same shade and texture as my mother’s hair. She had lost her hair shortly before she lost her life.

With a sigh over the sad turn of my own thoughts I dug around in my backpack for a t-shirt. It had the Arizona State Sun Devils logo on the front and was a men’s large. It was huge on me. That was how I liked my shirts; billowy and shapeless. I pulled on a pair of raggedy elastic gym shorts and figured that would be the end of my appeal to Chase, who could probably pork a gaggle of supermodels if he felt like it.

When I opened the door I was a little startled. That feeling quickly turned to suspicion. Chase was still sitting on the bed, in the same position I’d left him in. Only he’d dimmed the lights. And removed his shirt.

“Top of the ninth,” he called, not looking over at me.

I approached him with my hands on my hips. “What the hell are you up to now?”

“Shush. Dodgers have the heart of the order coming up.”

“And you can only enjoy baseball while shirtless?”

He looked down at himself absently. “I was hot.” He finally glanced over at me. There was no hint of anything other than mild friendliness in his expression as he checked me out. “Sit down. Enjoy the end of the game.”

He was playing with me. I knew it. I should order him the hell out of my room and slam the door. He could go mess with someone else’s head. There was one problem though.

I didn’t want him to leave.

Still, I couldn’t bring myself to sit on the bed with him. Chase clapped loudly when the first batter hit a fly ball to left field. I grabbed the armchair in the corner and tried to drag it over to where I could see the screen. It was heavy. Chase didn’t offer to help. Feeling ridiculous, I gave up. The bed was a king size so I could sit on it and still manage to remain a good three feet away from him. I gingerly rested on the edge.

“Bet you ten bucks this guy strikes out,” he said, pointing.

“That’s a crappy bet. The count is already oh and two.”

He glanced at me curiously. “I heard you know about that shit.”

“What shit?”

“Betting. Games.”

“Maybe,” I said darkly. For some reason Xavier’s cruel laugh came back to me.

Chase turned to me, bringing his knee up on the bed. “Not asking for your trade secrets, but I’d listen if you want to discuss the particulars.” He smiled, reminding me how f*cking hot he was, lest I could forget with his broad, tattooed chest staring me in the face. “I’ve got some cash I can part with for the opportunity to make more.”

“Then you’re a fool,” I said flatly. “If there was any real opportunity for bettors then there wouldn’t be bookies. We’re the ones who make the cash, mostly off the backs of suckers who believe that a lucky win or two means they know what the hell they’re doing. They don’t. They’ll keep coming back, thinking they know how to beat the odds and before they know it they’re upside down.”

Chase was watching me carefully. For the first time I saw a real sign of his often-hyped intelligence. It was in his eyes. They were sharp, like he was carefully appraising every word.

“You know,” he finally said, “that’s the most you’ve ever said to me at once, Stephanie.” He jerked his head at the television, not taking his eyes from my face. “Told you he’d strike out.”

“And I told you that was a shitty bet.”

Chase reached into his pocket. I was puzzled when he pulled out a deck of cards.

He casually began shuffling them. “You want to take a different bet?”

“Do you just carry those things around with you all the time?” I frowned. “What kind of bet?”

Somehow he’d managed to creep closer to me. He cut the deck in half and set the two stacks side by side. “Kind of like War. But we’ll each only pick one card. High card wins.”

“What are the stakes?” I already knew. He didn’t want money. He only wanted one thing.

“If I win, then you let me kiss you.”

“Kiss me?” I was a little surprised, figuring the prize would be something disgusting, something involving genitalia. ‘Let me kiss you’ sounded so innocent. And Chase Gentry was the rank opposite of innocent.

He smiled slowly, holding my gaze and melting my heart. “Yeah. I just want to kiss you.”

I didn’t believe him for a minute. “And what do I get if I draw the high card?”