Chapter 7      

Rhett had always looked forward to major poker tournaments, like the one starting tomorrow at Foxwoods Casino in Mashantucket, Connecticut, but he’d never anticipated them more than he did now—even if the November wind was a total contrast from the eighty-degree weather he’d left in Vegas. 

Before it had been about the potential to rake in a huge pot and be celebrated as the winner. Now it was all about seeing Abbie. According to his clock, he only had another hour to go before she and the rest of her family arrived at the hotel. She’d texted him from the airport to let him know she’d arrived with Dustin and Mac, who was also playing in the tourney.

He’d worried she might be a distraction to his game, but no—she was his anchor, giving him even more control and focus at the table. He wanted to win in front of her as much as he wanted to win for himself. 

“You seem to have throttled back on the partying lately,” Rye Crenshaw said, crossing his ankles on the coffee table in Rhett’s suite.

The country singer was performing at the casino’s Grand Theater, and they were shooting the shit before Rye had to head over for a final microphone test. They’d known each other for quite a spell since meeting at Vanderbilt University. Rhett had been a late bloomer to college, attending after he’d hit the poker circuit at eighteen. Rather than follow a traditional college path, he’d taken courses when he could to cobble together a bachelor’s degree in psychology. He’d had the numbers game of poker down, but he’d thought it wise to learn more about what made people tick. It had upped his game tremendously.

He wondered if Abbie knew he had a college education. It wasn’t something he broadcasted. Would hurt his image.

“Did you hear me?” Rye asked, kicking Rhett’s boots to garner his attention.

“I haven’t throttled back,” he said, shaking the shredded ice in his mint julep like it was a maraca.

“Bullshit,” Rye said. “You didn’t once look at woman in the bar last night. Even Clayton commented on it.”

Rye’s deputy music manager also went back to their Vandy days, which meant both of them knew Rhett better than he’d like. At least when it came to picking up on his secrets. “Clayton should stay focused on making sure your concert comes off perfectly tonight.”

“Why do you think he’s at the theater, and I’m here? He and his mama make the magic happen behind the scenes. But let’s get back to the topic at hand. Do you have something serious going on that I don’t know about?”

He didn’t want to lie to his friend, but he didn’t feel comfortable saying anything about Abbie, not when she was so bound and determined to keep it from everyone. “I can’t comment on that score, so you might as well stop your asking.”

“Good Lord above!” Rye stroked his goatee. “You aren’t thinking about settling down, I hope?”

“No,” he immediately said. “Can you imagine me like that?”

His friend rolled his eyes. “Not for a second. About as crazy as me settling down. Still, if you’re not interested in other women, it has to be somewhat serious. What are you doing, bubba?”

Some days he didn’t know. His friend would laugh his ass off to hear he was spending time with a lady like Abbie. She was way too good for him. Both of them knew it. But she was also too conservative for him.

Somehow that logic didn’t stop him from ticking off the number of days they’d been apart: eighteen. Way too long for his sanity.

When they were alone, they were great. It was living in the world together he was unsure about—and that included her boy if things continued between them. 

His lifestyle wasn’t exactly suitable for a woman like her, and it certainly wasn’t for Dustin. He loved the boy, and part of him longed for fatherhood, but he wasn’t so sure he had what it took. His own daddy had failed miserably and hadn’t passed on any helpful tips. Plus, there was no way Rhett could be as squeaky clean as Mac Maven. His friend could show the boy how to be a good, upstanding man. Rhett’s image in the circuit demanded that he act in ways a teenage boy might idolize—but shouldn’t. How could he discipline the boy for behavior he himself exhibited?

When he thought about them all standing up together, him in leather chaps and an open leather jacket revealing his bare chest; Abbie in one of those Jackie Kennedy suits with matching shoes and purse; and Dustin in plain shorts and a T-shirt, Rhett could almost laugh. 

Except he didn’t exactly find it funny.

“I’m only seeing what it feels like to be a one-woman man right now,” Rhett decided to admit, sticking as close to the truth as he could. “Last I looked, this was a free country.”

“I should use that in a song,” Rye mused, fighting a grin. “The only time I dipped my toe in that forever pond was with Emeline Williams, my sister’s best friend. She was the perfect Southern debutante.”

“From a family so respected in Natchez, Mississippi, I couldn’t wipe her boots,” Rhett said with a snarl. “My mama sewed some of her pilgrimage ball gowns, and she wasn’t kind to her. Thank God you broke off your engagement. You would have been miserable.”

“I would have been more miserable if I’d gone into the family business of lawyering with my daddy.”

Because Rhett could hear the bitterness in Rye’s voice, he lifted his glass to him. “Leaving Vandy law school to sign your first record deal took courage, man. I was proud to know you. Still am.”

Rye knocked his bourbon back. “Getting disowned by my family was the best thing that ever happened to me. At least my baby sister is still in touch with me.”

“Amelia Ann has spunk,” Rhett said. “She’s going to fight the Southern Stepford system. Just you watch.”

“Let’s change the subject,” Rye said, setting his glass on the table with a crack. “I’m getting maudlin. You really aren’t going to tell me who the woman is? Gads, it’s not Raven or Vixen, is it?”

Rhett gave a shudder. “Good God, no! They’re like my sisters.”

“Whew! That’s a relief. Of course, it doesn’t much matter as far as I’m concerned. They won’t give me the time of day.”

That made Rhett laugh something fierce. “You’re not their type. If you ever make a move—”

“Already done years ago,” Rye said, “when I first met them. They gave me the cold shoulder. Never happened again.”

“Can’t say as I blame you,” Rhett said. “They’re both adorable.”

“Hmmm…” Rye drawled. “Not the adjective I would use.”

“Catch me up on other news,” Rhett said. 

Rye proceeded to fill him in on their other mutual friends back in Nashville.

Rhett kept an eye on the clock, waiting for a text from Abbie. Usually she came up to his suite to see him as soon as she could get away. When his phone beeped, he kicked Rye’s boots off his coffee table.

“Time for you to go, bubba,” Rhett said, standing up.

“She’s here, isn’t she? You’re as jumpy as a Mexican jumpin’ bean. Land sakes, boy, you’d better get a hold of yourself.” Still, Rye slapped his black Stetson on his head. “Sure I can’t stay and say howdy to her? I’d love to meet the woman who has you one-timin’ it.”

“No,” Rhett said, pushing him toward the door. “Go sing your heart out tonight.”

“I suppose we won’t be getting together later for some carousing?” Rye asked. “Now I understand why you can’t come to the concert. My boy has plans.”

Truth was, it hadn’t been difficult to choose between seeing Abbie and going to his friend’s concert. Rhett knew it should bother him, but he just couldn’t muster it. “I can see you in concert anytime.”

“She’s not married, is she?” Rye asked with a puzzled look.

“No, what kind of moron do you take me for?” Rhett asked, shoving his shoulder. “Married women are off limits.”

“Amen,” Rye added. “Just checking. You’re not acting like yourself, bubba.”

“I’m feeling just fine, thank you kindly, and while I’m sorry I can’t make it to hear you sing, you’ll do fine without me. Besides, I gotta rest up for the tourney tomorrow.”

All he could think about was everything he wanted to do with Abbie, the first of which was kiss every inch of her milky white skin.

“Of course you need your rest,” Rye said dryly, slapping him on the back. “Then Clayton and I will have to be satisfied we got to hang out with you last night. I guess we’ll pull out of town right after the concert. Gotta get to New York City for the next gig, and there’s no reason to postpone partying in the Big Apple. Sorry to miss you later, though. This was a nice coincidence.”

“It was,” Rhett said, giving him a nod. “Break a leg, bubba.”

“Always,” Rye said with a firm nod. “If I can return a word of wisdom…don’t let your heart get broke. No woman is worth that.”

Rhett wasn’t so sure about that. If there was ever a woman to risk heartache over, it was Abbie. She wasn’t the kind of woman who came along once a season. She was one for a lifetime.

“Get out of here,” Rhett said, opening the door. “Good seeing you, bubba.”

“You too, Rhett,” Rye said and headed down the hallway to the elevators.

Rhett closed the door, thinking about his friend’s advice. He wasn’t in danger of getting his heart broken, was he? Surely, he and Abbie could keep things on the level. But it had to end sometime. They both knew it, though it was another thing they didn’t talk about it. 

Mac was still in the dark about their relationship—or if he knew, he hadn’t said anything. Rhett hated not being out in the open with one of his best friends, especially being that Mac was Abbie’s protective older brother, but she’d insisted they keep their relationship a secret. Still, he felt like shit about that some days. His friend had to know something was up with him, even though they’d never really partied together like he did with Rye and company.

Remembering Abbie’s earlier text, he pulled his phone from his pants pocket and read it. 

Here at the hotel. Would love to see you. What room are you in?

Mac had also texted him, and he frowned at the invitation his friend had sent.

Family is here. How about dinner tonight? Rye’s playing, right? How about we go afterward? I’ve never heard him sing, I’m embarrassed to admit.

Shit, he hadn’t expected that. Country music wasn’t exactly Mac Maven’s favorite. He and Dustin loved rap. Rhett couldn’t understand why for the life of him. The music’s beat was too monotonous, and the lyrics would curl the toes of a preacher woman. He knew Abbie didn’t approve of the music, but she didn’t try and control what they listened to, so long as it wasn’t too obscene. He’d always been amused by her conversations with Mac about what constituted obscene. He replied to Mac after considering his words.

How about we do dinner only? I want to be rested for tomorrow. Late night with Rye and Clayton yesterday.

That at least was true, although when in the hell did Rhett Butler Blaylock ever talk about resting up? Mac immediately responded.

Okay. Probably best for my clan. Abbie looks tired, although she won’t admit it. She’s been working too hard lately. Wanna meet in the bar for a drink now?

His gut clenched at the mention of Abbie. Did she look tired because she was thinking of tossing him aside? Was she tired of him? He texted back.

Rye just left, and I need to get my bearings. I’ll text you about that drink.

He clicked on Abbie’s text to answer now that he’d given himself some time to consider his words. Hopefully she could get away. She usually did. Surely her text meant she wasn’t tired of him, right?

Hey, sugar. Eager to see you too. When can you get away? I’m missing you in 1501.

Once, he would have made sure to book a suite close to the Mavens, but for these last months, he’d gone out of his way to ensure he was staying on a different floor. Abbie usually stole out of their suite after Dustin went to sleep and returned in the wee hours of the night. Sometimes she looked as uncomfortable about the sneaking as he was, but other times she lit up like a camping lantern. He’d finally realized why. Miss Straight-lace Maven had never done anything daring like that, he expected.

Her time with him was her own form of rebellion.

At least he thought that was true. He still didn’t know anything about her experience with Dustin’s father. That gaping hole kept him awake some nights. The more he cared about her, the more he wanted to know what the fucker had done to hurt her. Why he had abandoned her and one of the best kids around. Since Rhett’s own father had been a complete asshole, he didn’t spin any Pollyanna tales about the magic of fatherhood. Some men simply weren’t suited for it. His phone beeped again.

Give me a few minutes. I’ll be there soon as I can.

He tidied up his and Rye’s glasses. Checked out his visage in the parlor’s mirror. He’d taken off his carmine red leather vest since he thought she’d be more comfortable with his loose white chambray shirt. While his pants were suede, they were chocolate brown and pretty tame for him. He’d chosen a gray cowboy hat with a silver band. Again, still in keeping with his style, but not too over-the-top. 

When he hit the tables tomorrow, he’d wear his new alligator boots and white leather pants and vest—no shirt—with a zebra-striped cowboy hat. Jane and Elizabeth loved the outfit, and since Elizabeth had started tweeting about his clothes, much to his fans’ enjoyment, they were starting to pick out what he wore. Oh, those gals…

He texted to make sure his poker babes were covered for the evening. Usually they preferred to hole up in their own suite before a tourney. Despite the image they presented, they were not party girls. Quite the contrary. They would be watching video on Rhett’s key competitors, looking for any betting strategies or tells—even though everyone was prepared for tomorrow. Himself included.

A discreet knock sounded on the door, and he raced over to open it. He felt rooted to the floor when he saw her. She stood in the hallway in a black suit with white piping on the edges, looking ready to step onto an old movie set.

When she looked like this, sometimes he was afraid to touch her.

“Hello, Rhett,” she said with a hesitant smile.

“Hey, sugar,” he said, stepping back to let her inside.

Once the door clicked, they lunged at each other. His mouth fused with hers in a wild, drugging kiss. He felt her hands working their way down to his belt buckle.

“I need you,” she panted against his chest. “Right now.”

He didn’t hesitate. He hiked up her skirt and pulled her panties out of the way as she undid his pants. Her hands on his hot flesh had him groaning. Dipping his knees, he pushed into her hard. She groaned, and he could tell she was already on the edge—just like she usually was their first time together after an absence. His slid in high, kissing her neck, and she shattered, crying out. He locked himself in place to keep from coming. This was going to last. He always made their first time together last. Forcing his eyes closed, he reached for control as she pulsed around him.

When he felt her caress the back of his neck—like she always did to signal she’d come back to herself—he boosted her up onto his waist and carried her into the bedroom.

Laying her on the bed, he focused on unbuttoning her jacket and spreading it open.

“I’ve been thinking about this for days,” she said, her voice lush and low in the quiet room. “I need more.”

Her words gratified a primal part of him. His woman needed him.

“I know what you need,” he said, pulling out of her and undressing them both.

He felt her arms clasp around him as he kissed her sweetly. The edge wasn’t gone for her. He could feel it in the way her body vibrated against him. Smoothing down her torso, he took her up and over again. When she finally lowered the hand over her eyes—something she was prone to do when she experienced her pleasure, he’d come to realize—he slid back into her.

“I haven’t been able to stop thinking about this,” she whispered again, joining him in the dance. “Or you. I’m worried I’m becoming a sex maniac.”

He laughed hoarsely, but the feel of her soft skin against him prevented a wicked reply. Coming onto his knees, he raised her bottom up and increased the pressure of his thrusts. Soon they were both crying out, hands fisted together like they couldn’t bear to come without the other.

He savored the stillness he found with her afterward, something he’d never experienced with anyone else. That place held some kind of power, inspiring the reverence he’d felt as a boy whenever his mama brought him to the white church with the spiky steeple. 

He cuddled her close and held her to him. When she raised herself up on her elbow, he met her eyes and smiled. “Hello, honey.”

“Hi,” she said, a return smile flickering on her lips. “I missed you.”

He smoothed a lock of her short black hair behind her ears. “I missed you too. You texted.”

Her face scrunched like she was unhappy he’d called it out there. Well, too bad. “I did. It was only a soccer goal. You didn’t have to text back.”

“Of course I did,” he said. “Especially when I asked for it.”

“Hmmm….” she said as though she wasn’t sure what else to say about the matter. 

Progress, he decided. But then he wondered to what end. Mac was waiting for him to respond about a drink in the bar, and he and Abbie would have to pretend their family dinner wasn’t bookended between sexcapades.

“You look troubled,” she said, tracing his brow.

“Mac said you were working too hard,” he decided to mention. “Something on your mind, honey?”

She gave a shrug, more like teenage Dustin than cool-as-cream Abbie. “It’s my way of keeping myself on track. You’re…distracting.”

He bit the inside of his cheek to keep from grinning. “Am I now?”

“Don’t sound so smug,” she said, batting him on the chest. “I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“Honey,” he drawled, “when a man takes you against a hotel door, he pretty much realizes he’s distracting. That is, unless he’s dumber than dirt. Which I’m not.” That made him think about Vandy again. “Did you know I have a college education? I met Rye Crenshaw and his boys at Vanderbilt.”

Her green eyes widened. “I didn’t know that. I…wow. Vanderbilt, huh? When? What is your degree in?”

His chest puffed up as he told her the tale, and he had a weird feeling in his chest when she said, “I knew you were smart, but…”

“It’s not exactly in keeping with my good ol’ boy reputation, although it tickles me some when people assume a World Series poker champion is stupid. Like they think anyone can do it.”

“I didn’t know it bothered you,” she said.

“I said it tickles me, honey,” he corrected, rubbing her back. “Not the same thing.”

“But why go out of your way to perpetuate that image if it’s not true?” she asked.

He heard a sliver of judgment in her voice, and it raised his hackles. He knew he embarrassed her, but she’d never hinted at it out loud. 

“It’s called a feint or ruse,” he said. “Best to have people underestimate me.”

“Mac doesn’t do it that way, and he still wins.”

He took a breath to settle himself. “No, he intimidates straight away. We joined the circuit from different parts of the country, honey. Maven started in Atlantic City while I started in the South. Plus, we’re different people, and back then, I dressed like that because I wanted to make a statement. I still do.” For some reason, that was important to say. 

She raised up and pulled the sheet toward her. “As long as I’ve known you, you’ve pretended to be some wild man, and yet with me…”

His throat tightened.

“You’re different with me,” she said, looking at his chest. “You always have been.”

“You’re a lady,” he said softly. “I treat you with respect. Like you deserve.”

“Sometimes I wonder who you really are,” she whispered. “The man I’m with in moments like these or the one out there on the circuit flanked by two poker babes.”

She’d never said, but she didn’t approve of Jane and Elizabeth. Not that she was unkind to them. They just stayed out of one another’s hair, and he’d thought it for the best. Maybe he’d been wrong about that.

“Sometimes I wonder who you are too,” he said, turning onto his side to face her. “Outside, you’re the perfectly controlled and responsible single mama, sister, and professional, but with me… Honey, there’s a little bit of wildcat in you too.”

She flinched.

“That’s not a mark against you,” he immediately said. “It was a compliment.”

Rising from the bed, she clutched the sheet. “I’m sure you meant it that way. I should get back. Mac wanted to have a drink with you before dinner.”

He didn’t know how to fix whatever was going on in her head, so he grabbed her hand and kissed it. 

“I’ll see you later then,” he said and watched her dress and leave him behind.

Like he feared she would eventually leave him for good.