Free Hustler by Meghan Quinn, Jessica Prince Page A

“So she can follow direction. All hope isn’t lost after all.”
    Pasting a smile on my face, I move to the side and watch with a grin as he lifts the tumbler to his lips and takes a hearty gulp.
    Serves you right, dick-face .
    ***
    I can’t help but stare in wonder as Gavin wins yet another hand. Over the past several hours, the stacks of chips in front of him have grown into towers. It’s truly an impressive thing to watch. His facial expression remains completely stoic, no flinching, no twitching, as he studies his cards and lowers them, face down on the table.
    Hell, the man’s spent more of the night watching the other people at the table than he has his own cards. I’ve never in my life seen someone so focused on a task they basically turn into a robot. It’s amazing, really.
    “Jesus Christ,” Nick murmurs from behind me. “The lucky bastard won again.”
    Spinning around on my heels, I place my palms on the bar top and face Nick. “How much do you think he’s won so far?”
    He looks up and scratches his chin in thought. “If I had to guess, I’d say close to four hundred G’s.”
    “Holy fuck!” I gasp. “I can’t imagine having that kind of money in one lifetime, let alone a night!”
    Nick’s shoulder comes up in a shrug. “Yeah, well, when you have unlimited funds, it’s easy to throw them around.”
    I’m still in awe as I look back at Gavin, sitting as still as a statue. “Yeah, but it’s not just that. He’s really good . I mean, I’ve watched him on TV before, but I guess seeing it in person is totally different, huh?”
    “You’ll get used to it, gorgeous,” Nick grins.
    As I scan the glasses on the poker table, checking to see if anyone’s in need of a refill, Nick’s fingers trail across the back of my hand, still resting on the top of the bar, jerking my attention back to him.
    “What are you doing after this?” he asks in a low, sultry voice.
    I shoot him a look that screams, you’re so not getting up in all this . “Sleeping,” I answer dryly. “It’ll be like, two in the morning.”
    He rests his forearms on the bar and smiles unabashedly. “Then what about tomorrow?”
    “Nick,” I say on a sigh, knowing exactly where this is going. “You’re a really nice guy, but—”
    “Just think about it, Nell,” he interrupts, standing to his full height, palms out. “I’m not asking for anything serious, and I promise I won’t try and sleep with you.” He laughs at the sight of one of my eyebrows cocking up in doubt. “At least not on the first few dates,” he winks. “But in all seriousness, you’re a cool chick. I think we could really have fun together. Don’t you?”
    God, he’s giving me the puppy dog eyes! Why does he have to be so damn adorable? “I’m not making any promises,” I tell him. There, that’s nice, right? Not a full-blown rejection, but not a promise to anything either. “But I’ll think about it.”
    “That’s all I’m asking for—oh shit,” he trails off, focusing over my shoulder. “Think you’re being summoned.”
    Dread creeps over me, the skin on the back of my neck prickling as I slowly turn to face the poker table. Sure enough, Gavin’s glare is pointed at me like a goddamned laser beam. And he does not look happy.
    On slow, unsteady legs, I make my way to the table, noticing his glass still has whiskey in it, so I can’t understand the disgruntlement rolling off of him in waves.
    “Do you need anything, sir?” I ask in a very quiet voice.
    “Yeah,” he grunts angrily. “I’d like for you to do your fucking job. Think you can manage that, Miss Prescott?”
    I jerk back at his vicious tone, only getting my senses together enough to catch the whiskey tumbler as he shoves it at me. “And get me a refill while you’re at it.”
    Unable to formulate rational thought, let alone an actual sentence, I walk back to Nick in a daze and refill Gavin’s drink order. All the while, trying to convince myself I don’t