The Bluff (Love Stories in Sheet Cake, Texas, #2)

by Emma St. Clair

Winnie sighs, pushing her glasses on top of her head to rub her eyes, something she’s done more than once tonight. She puts the glasses back in place and glances around the table, looking at each of us in turn. When her gaze collides with mine, her blue irises sear like a cattle brand on some invisible part of me.

Winnie’s fingers fly over the deck as she expertly shuffles the cards. The room is suddenly silent, and all eyes are on her hands. Jaws have dropped around the table, and Chevy’s is the lowest of all. She’s not doing a standard shuffle, but something I’ve never seen before. It’s the kind of thing reserved for Vegas dealers or movies about poker. The snap and shh of the cards and the deft movements of her hands are hypnotizing. Why is this so sexy? It shouldn’t be, but her strong yet delicate hands are fascinating to watch. Beautiful. Once again, Winchester Boyd has managed to shock me.

Omaha isn’t that uncommon of a game, but her specificity tells me two things that track with her ability to shuffle: Winnie is no poker novice, and I have even more reason to stay away from her.

Collin looks at Winnie like she’s the most beautiful creature he’s ever seen. He’s not wrong. But I want to smack the look off his face anyway. “Nice,” Collin says, slapping a hand on the table. “Now things are getting interesting.” He flashes a smile at Winnie, and when she smiles back, jealousy snakes its way up my throat. She winks at Collin, and I’m ready to knock out his teeth.

“Raise.” I’ve got nothing but a Jack and a great poker face.

Only SOME times do you have a great poker face smhhhhh

With the tiniest of smiles, Winnie narrows her eyes, then tosses in a few more chips. “James Graham, I’m calling your bluff.” I swallow but otherwise do not move. It has to be a good guess, it HAS to, because if Winnie has learned to read me, I’m totally sunk—and I don’t mean in the game.

💗💗💗

James by himself has the intensity of a front-row seat to the sun. I totally love his intensity, for the record.

I’m secretly hoping Harper might want to be my friend, but she is exceptionally intimidating.

It’s me.

It’s clear what James really means is, why are you flirting with Winnie if you have a girlfriend, Collin?

James doesn’t seem to have figured this out, and is standing much, much too close to me, his hand still covering mine.

As I head to the bathroom, I try to remind myself of reasons I don’t like James. He’s rude. Seems to have even lower expectations of me than most people. Wears a dark cloud of negativity like a backpack wherever he goes. Is too hot for his own good. The shining crown on top is that James does not like me.

“I think you’re going to be good for him, Winnie.”

Sighing, Winnie says, “You didn’t give me much to work with, so I went with the dark horse vibe but pulled in the idea of a unicorn because who doesn’t love unicorns?” Me. I do not love—or like—unicorns.

She’s too much lol 😂