"It’s just you and me," I told Declan calmly, feeling my cheeks starting to turn pink as I kept darting glances at Aidan.
I knew he had an ace of spades and a five of diamonds, whereas I had two tens, a club and a diamond. Technically, I was always going to win, but he didn’t have to know that, did he?
"You sure you ain’t stacking the deck?" Brennan rumbled, the ice in his glass tinkling as he waggled it at me.
Grinning at him, I murmured, "Always the sign of a sore loser. What is it, Brennan? Pissed that a girl beat you?"
He narrowed his eyes at me, before he replied, "Being beaten by a girl is pretty hot, actually."
Aidan’s head whipped up. "Brennan!" he snarled. "Watch your fucking mouth."
My grin widened.
Brennan just rolled his eyes. "I meant figuratively, Aidan. I’m not jonesing for your woman. I got my own." He smacked his lips. "She’ll bite your dick off if you so much as look at her wrong," he declared proudly.
My eyes bugged at him, because for all they were being expressive tonight, that was a whole other kind of admission. "Camille bit someone’s dick off?" No wonder she’d smiled when I’d told her how good it felt to punch Wintersen in the junk.
Wow.
Brennan smirked. "Sure did. Clean off." Then he scowled at me. "If you go to the cops, I’ll slice your—"
"Brennan," Declan rumbled, "you got a death wish, my man? Aidan’s probably fingering his knife right as we speak."
Well, if we were going to get technical, Aidan was fingering his jeans. Not his knife.
The second eldest, well, the official second eldest—yikes, that wasn’t going to get confusing, was it?—just scoffed as he scraped back his chair and clambered to his feet. "I got better places to be."
"Horizontal and with the missus?" Declan hummed. "Not a bad idea." He squinted at his cards, squinted at me, then grumbled, "I fold too."
I knew my grin beamed at him, because he blinked like I’d shone a light in his eyes. As Brennan called out, "Night, fuckers," Declan leaned forward and wagged his finger in my face.
"He’s right, ya know. You sure you didn’t stack the deck?"
"If I did, don’t you think I’d have won every hand tonight?"
His owlish blink would have been cute if dark and moody wasn’t my thing. "Seeing conspiracies everywhere," he grumbled under his breath. "Right, night you two." He squinted at his watch and groaned. "See you in a few hours."
As he strolled out, I gathered my winnings together, purring at the sight of all the lovely money I’d earned tonight. Then, when I cast a look at Aidan, I saw his gaze was on me and those fucking fingers were deep in that slit.
I gulped.
This shouldn’t have been so hot.
Why was it so hot?
"You’re bad for my IQ levels," I groused.
"Had worse complaints in my time," he said dryly before he scissored his fingers.
I bit my lip, but surged to my feet, only to sink between his legs in front of him.
As I peered up at him, I wondered what it was about him that made him so impressive. It wasn’t just his position. Men were born to power all the time, but they didn’t always command a room. They didn’t always suck the air out of a space whenever they walked into it.
He was there, legs splayed, finger fucking his jeans, a glass of whiskey held loosely in his hand now he’d put down his cellphone, sitting in a paisley-patterned armchair as if he were a king in a throne.
Biting the inside of my cheek, I rocked forward and placed my hands on his thighs. One covered his, to cease the teasing, and the other just rested on the denim.
"You stacked the deck, didn’t you?"
I tipped my head to the side. "In a poker game, who do you owe loyalty to?"
His smile appeared, widening as he considered me. "My grandfather would have called you canny."
I blinked. "Should I consider that a compliment?"
He nodded. "You really should." He took a sip of his whiskey, then placed the glass down on the table beside him.
In the ultra feminine space that was this second family room, dominated by floral patterns in the curtains, sofa, and even the paintings on the wall, he looked more aggressive. Hyper-masculine in a way that made me melt.
"I like your brothers," I told him softly.
"Not enough not to cheat them," he said with a laugh, his fingers coming to my nose to tweak it. Why that made me squirm, I had no idea.
"I didn’t stack the deck. Poker is a game of statistics, and I’m damn good with statistics. Better than them apparently." I pouted. "You’re going to tell them, aren’t you?"
"No," he teased. "I’m just never going to play poker with you."
"Not even if it’s strip poker?"
"That I could get behind if it wasn’t me doing the stripping," he said wryly.
"I could figure out a way to even the score." I shot him a measured look. "How about that?"
He smiled. "I could be down for that. Not tonight though. You’d win without me doing much. It’s been another long day."
It really had, and that he admitted that to me was everything.
I bit my lip and whispered, "It’ll be okay, Aidan."
"Will it? I’m not so sure." He shook his head as he traced his fingers along the line of my jaw. "I was hoping Ma would bounce back. She’s manic so she can do that."
Lena had spent all day in bed after cooking for the rest of the night while we slept. Aidan Sr. had come out for food, then he’d watch over whichever room we were in, looking misty-eyed as he saw his family having fun together, before he’d retreat to Lena’s side.
My heart ached for them both, and seeing Aidan Sr.’s pain was what had taken away the gleam of the fangirling moments I had. We’d not even been formally introduced, not really, but he was human to me now. As was the rest of the family.
It had just taken a siege, an arson attack on two Catholic monuments, and a Christmas Eve spent bickering with his brothers and their families.
It was horrible to admit this, especially when his parents were so sad and Aidan was too, but I’d had a ball.
Unlike with my siblings, there’d been no real arguments. No getting in each other’s faces, roaring at each other and screeching from one side of the house to the other.
There’d just been love.
It was everywhere in this house.
It tied everything together in a way that my therapist Mom would love to study.
From the breakfast Aoife had made where we’d all gorged on monkey bread and cocoa with whipped cream, to the pizzas we’d ordered in for dinner. Everyone had been together all day. Games had been played, sport reruns had been watched, poker had been ladybossed. It was like something from a movie.
"Aidan?"
He hummed.
"Do you think your family appreciates the highs because the lows sink so deep?"
He blinked at me, then smiled. "You enjoyed today, didn’t you?"
I bit my lip and nodded. "I’m sorry," I blurted out.
"Why? I’m glad you like my family and don’t just want to observe them," he teased. "I saw the journalist in you pop up a few times, but you kept it banked for the most part."