Betting the Rainbow (Harmony) (15 page)

When Ronny brought the dessert, she sat on the couch beside his good leg and fed him cookies while she pretended to be interested in the poker lesson.

Austin would have complained that he didn’t need help, but every time she reached across for another cookie, her breast brushed against his arm.

No one noticed or paid any attention to his not-so-subtle comments that they should all call it a night. She just kept feeding him cookies and letting her breast move a little slower over his arm with each passing.

For the first time in a long time, Ronny was having fun and getting turned on at the same time. It felt grand to be alive.

At this rate he’d grow fat from eating cookies, or faint again. He looked like he didn’t much care which as long as she stayed close.

Chapter 24

THURSDAY, TEN P.M.

DELANEY FARM

D
USTI WAS SITTING OUT ON THE DOCK WHEN
K
IERAN DROVE
down Rainbow Lane and turned into their drive. By the time she noticed him it was too late to slip her jeans back on, so she did her best to act like she wasn’t sitting in her underwear and hoped he wouldn’t notice.

He grinned, reading her mind. “Looks like a grand way to cool off, lass.” He lifted a bag. “I figure I’ve eaten enough of your food, so I brought by ice cream hoping you’d still be awake.”

She started to stand, then remembered that she wasn’t dressed. “Turn around.”

“Not a chance,” he answered.

She stared at him as she stood and tugged on her jeans. To his credit, his eyes never dropped lower than her smile.

“We’re here to play poker,” she said, walking past him. “So as soon as I eat half that ice cream, we’re playing one last time.”

“That’s the plan.”

And surprisingly, that was exactly what they did. He dealt the hands faster, making her think quicker. “It’s got to be almost instinct,” he’d say over and over again. “You have to take it all in and compute what your move is. The longer you think, the more time you’re giving the other players to think.”

Dusti played every hand, barely noticing when he tried to distract her, or bluff her, or force her to respond with emotion and not logic.

Two hours later, when Dusti said good night to Kieran, she knew she might as well have said good-bye. Tomorrow was the big game and both would be playing to win. Neither had mentioned the other half of their bet. He’d said he would teach her to play, and she’d agreed to a date. If she lost, she wasn’t sure she’d want to go, and if he lost, he might be the one to call it off.

For a man who wanted to go out with her and claimed she’d turned him down three times, he didn’t seem all that interested in her now. Most of the times she’d cuddled up to him, he’d reminded her they had work to do if she planned to learn to play in time.

The next afternoon, when Dusti made her twenty-dollar donation to play, she found herself searching the mob for a tall Scot. It seemed everyone in town either wanted to support the library, so they were out on the Truman farm helping out, or had come to play.

While Dusti got her number and rack of chips, Abby whispered, “Where did some of these guys come from?” Men in business suits, cowboys, oil field workers, all ages came to play. Of the two hundred, only ten were women.

Dusti smiled as she and Abby backed to the edge of the crowd. “Remember what Kieran told us. There are all types who play. Assume everyone is already playing you even before you sit down at the table. Like that woman, who looks like she came to pole dance, may be a real pro, and the man in dark glasses may have made millions.”

“Or,” Abby added, “she just woke up from a bender last night and forgot to change clothes, and he is cross-eyed and doesn’t want to confuse people.”

Half an hour later they’d met all types. The flirt. The once-high roller. Mr. Lucky who bragged about all the big games he’d played. The bully who seemed determined to bother as many people as possible.

Then Dusti’s number was called. She ran to her table. She’d decided she wanted to play across from the dealer, and as the second one there she got her pick of chairs.

She was so glad Bill Ottoson from the gun range was the dealer. He seemed levelheaded and not too talky. Dusti had watched a few of the tables that had already started and the dealers weren’t the best. Mrs. McNabb, for one, wanted to know before she started if everyone had washed their hands. George Hatcher, owner of the bookstore, spilled his coffee as he sat down to deal, so his game started late. Most of the people drafted to deal would only have to do the job for the first hour or so. Then the two hundred players would drop down to twenty. Only the winners moved on.

Dusti did what Kieran had told her; she studied every person at the table. Two were already half drunk. Three looked barely old enough to play. One had brought her knitting. Another lady giggled with excitement when she sat down, saying she was happy to be playing with other ladies.

One older man in a battered Stetson took the seat next to the dealer. Dusti had seen him in town but didn’t know his name. He shuffled a stack of chips like they were cards, and she knew he was the man she’d have to beat.

The last man who sat down asked how much each color chip was worth. Dusti didn’t bother to look his way again.

All over the grounds people were sitting down to play. Some were talking, or cutting up. A few were bragging about other games or complaining about the heat, but they’d all come to win. One of the two hundred would go to Las Vegas, expenses and buy-in paid, to a game that would pay out millions.

Music drifted from a wagon-bed stage by the barn. Volunteers rushed to fill drinks and set up the buffet. By seven thirty, a line of those already out of the game was forming for the barbecue.

By eight, several of the poker tables had been converted to dining tables. Volunteers and those who’d already lost were dancing to the music of Beau Yates. Three people remained at Bill Ottoson’s table: Dusti, the guy in the Stetson, and the little woman who knitted.

Kieran’s words came back to her loud and clear. Never underestimate a player. She’d been right about the cowboy, but the knitter was a complete surprise. The woman broke most of the rules Kieran had told her. She counted her chips. She took her time thinking about each hand, and she even asked for advice now and then.

More tables were emptied, yet they played on. The urge to bet big and get the game over climbed along Dusti’s spine, but Kieran’s words in her head kept her on task.

Two tables were roped off near the barn for the next round.

“All in,” the cowboy said, shoving his multicolored chips to the center.

Bill smiled as he waited and said the first general comment he’d made in more than an hour of play. “When I was in the navy, we used to call that ‘betting the rainbow.’ All chips. All colors. I’ve always thought some folks live their lives that way. Playing every day all-out, win or lose it all.”

“Call.” The knitter looked interested for once.

Before Dusti could react, the cowboy stood and walked away, cussing his luck. When she glanced at the cards on the table, she saw he’d been beaten by the knitter.

“Well, I never,” the knitter said. “On the Internet no one ever does that.”

Three hands later the lady folded her knitting and walked away, seemingly in shock that she’d lost.

Dusti thanked Bill and ran to the food. With very few tables still playing the first round, she’d have to eat fast. Soon, she’d be called to the next round.

Two bites later, someone stepped in front of her and said, “Want to dance, lass?”

She forgot the food and jumped off the bench. “I won,” she said, hugging him. “I won the first round.”

“Good.” He laughed. “I’m a great teacher.”

“Or, I’m a good player.” She moved with him to the music. “How’d you do?”

“I won half an hour ago. I’ve had two plates of barbecue already, and one of the Red Hat ladies has tried to pick me up twice. If they don’t start the next round soon, I’ll be too fat to sit in the folding chair and probably married to a woman three times my age.”

Dusti wanted to tell him all about the game she’d played. The way she’d watched every player and read them right. How she’d almost yelped when she won her first big pot.

Only she couldn’t tell him. Kieran was in this as well. Somehow, they weren’t on the same team anymore.

As they two-stepped, she looked around at all the people laughing and talking. “If I had a camera, I’d shoot some shots. This whole night seems magic.”

He leaned down, pushing his chin against her hair. “I got one in the car. It’s an old one my dad had. Still uses film, but I love the pictures I get with it. I always travel with it just in case one day I discover an ounce of talent for photography. My dad had quite an eye for seeing things others don’t notice.”

“Could I borrow it?”

“Sure,” he answered, smiling down at her.

Five minutes later Dusti was shooting pictures. Couples dancing, Beau Yates lost in a song, the Red Hat ladies line dancing. The lanterns in the apple trees. Reagan holding someone’s baby up close to her cheek.

Dusti almost missed the call for the next round.

As she sat down, Dusti set the camera where she could see it and remember what she was playing for. It felt so good in her hands, reminding her of her dream. She had to win. Abby had to finish school, and then it would be her turn. Someday she might just make her living taking pictures. Her mother used to say Dusti could see things through the lens of a camera that most folks go all their lives without seeing.

Kieran sat down at the other table. The second round was starting. He looked calm, but she knew he was already sizing up every other player.

When the dealer called him by name, the cowboy across from Kieran made fun of it.

“Sounds like a girl’s name.”

“It’s not,” Kieran said simply. “It’s a fairly common name in Scotland. Pronounced like ‘Care-an’ with a roll on the
R
.”

“Oh, you’re a foreigner.”

“No, I’m not. I live in New York.”

The cowboy grinned. “Then you’re a damn Yankee.”

“Let’s play cards,” the dealer interrupted.

Dusti grinned, knowing exactly what the cowboy had been trying to do and also knowing Kieran wouldn’t take the bait. His words drifted in her mind.
Play your hand. Never get emotional. Never let another player affect you. Never be out to get someone.

As the dealer at her table started, she was now playing with only men. The game went faster this time. Everyone at the table knew how to play. No one knitted.

To her surprise, she won the second round easily.

After running to the bathroom in Reagan’s house, then grabbing a sandwich, she stood on the edges of the circle and watched Kieran play. He was ice, never looking at the crowd, never looking at his cards more than once. He played hand after hand. Now and then she held her breath when the pot was big or the cowboy across from him kept calling him Kieran without the Scottish accent that made his name sound so different.

By the time Kieran won, Dusti was seriously considering bopping the cowboy on the head, but Kieran simply stood and offered his hand to the man.

The cowboy mumbled something and turned away without shaking. No one seemed to notice but Dusti. Even Kieran dropped his hand and walked toward the table of iced tea without a backward glance.

“I won,” she whispered behind him a few minutes later.

He turned and smiled. “We’re down to two, lass. It’s just me and you now.”

The evening had drifted into night without her noticing. One more round and the game would be over. She took pictures for a while during the thirty-minute break, then found him for a dance beneath the stars.

He placed his hand on her arm as a slow song seemed to melt the tension in the night. “We’ve got a few minutes before the next round. How about we don’t talk and just dance. I like having my arms around you.”

Dusti wished she could ask him a few more questions, but she knew it was too late. So she slid her hand around his waist and moved her body close against his.

And they danced. For a few minutes neither focused on manipulation or analyzing their competitors. Both wanted there to be no one but the two of them and the music.

Chapter 25

HAWK HOUSE

T
HE EVENING OF THE BIG POKER GAME AT THE
T
RUMAN FARM,
Ronny waited until Abby’s boat left Austin’s dock before she brought dinner. She didn’t feel like sharing him with anyone. The Delaneys had taken turns keeping him company since he fell, but tonight they would all be at the poker tournament. Ronny would be alone with Austin, exactly the way she wanted it.

Last night she’d left with the others because she saw the dark circles under Austin’s eyes. He’d endured the pain silently, but she knew he was tired and hurting. He was a man used to pushing his body to the limit, and it appeared he planned to do the same now. Most of the time he ignored the pain pills and forced himself to stand or walk more than was necessary. Maybe, if it were just the two of them, he’d let his guard down and relax.

When she entered Hawk House without knocking, she was surprised to find Austin dressed in clean clothes, his hair still wet from the shower. He sat on the corner of his bed that faced the kitchen.

“You took a shower?” Ronny said her thoughts. “What about the bandage?”

He smiled up at her, and she thought he looked younger. Maybe a few years younger than she was. His actions had always made him seem older, but now, smiling, she saw the boy who had once been inside the man.

“About time you got here. I’m starving.” The look in his eyes left no doubt that food wasn’t all he wanted. “I thought since everyone left, we might have a date. Of course, we can’t go anywhere and you’d have to cook, but still, we could pretend. You’re a lady I’d like to take out on a date. I’d show you off to the whole town if I could.”

“I like that idea. Who knows, maybe someday we can walk the town square together, but right now, I’m worried about how you took a shower.” She set the basket on the counter and began unloading dinner into the refrigerator.

“Abby took the bandage off and stood at the door while I showered. Then she rewrapped the wound. She dresses a wound better than most medics I’ve seen.”

“Oh.” A new feeling battled in her mind. She was a bit jealous. Something she’d never expected. “Did you kiss her?”

He didn’t answer for a while, just watched her. “Come over here, Ronny.”

The frown she knew so well returned, creasing his face. She slowly walked to him, thinking her question made her sound like a teenager with her first boyfriend.

He took both her hands in his. “We need to talk. I’m not in the habit of kissing women, any women. Up until a few months ago I was in the army, and any woman I met was usually in a bar near the fort. I sometimes went home with one for the night, but we skipped the kissing part. I stayed away from women like you because I didn’t want any ties. I didn’t plan on leaving a widow or worrying about a girl double-timing me back home. Some of my buddies went half nuts about things like that.”

“Forget I asked about Abby. I was just being funny.” She could feel him moving away from her even though he remained on the corner of the bed.

“It’s not about Abby. This is about me and you.” He swore and mumbled, “I’m no good at this. Maybe we should forget talking.”

“Say what you need to say, Austin.” She braced for good-bye.

His green eyes fired a moment as if he were preparing to fight, then he took a deep breath as if organizing his thoughts. “I’m saying I don’t think I can walk away from you, Ronny.” He smiled suddenly. “And it has nothing to do with me being shot in the leg. What’s between us can be no one-night stand. You’ve probably had a lot of lovers, but for me this will be my first try at anything besides sex. I want to do it right.”

She knelt down beside him, knowing how hard his words came. “We’ll have to talk about things. I’ll need to know how you feel. You’re not an easy man to read.”

“I know,” he said.

“I want to know what you’re thinking about things . . . about me. I want to know all about you, good and bad.”

His fingers moved into her hair and she rose to meet his lips. The kiss was gentle and soft, like a first kiss. As he kissed her lightly, he whispered against her cheek, “I can’t stop watching you move. I love the way you smell and how you come to me hungry for the feel of me. I’d like to make love to you all day and all night long.” He held her face in his hands. “Is that a good start? Is that enough about what is on my mind?”

Pulling away, she sat back on her feet. “It’s a good start, I think,” she whispered without looking at him.

He waited, and then his words came, more hurt than angry. “I’m moving too fast. You’re probably used to lovers taking their time. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to frighten you. Hell, I went from asking for a first date to talking about making love. There was supposed to be a middle part there somewhere.”

She studied his face, knowing she had to start this with the truth between them. “I’ve never made love.”

Doubt flashed in his eyes.

“I’ve loved one man. He was in a wheelchair. He died.” She’d just boiled her entire life down to three short sentences.

Austin pulled her up as he stood. Without a word, he lay back on the bed, taking her with him. Then he just held her close as if he needed to think about what she’d just told him.

For no reason at all, Ronny felt tears running down her cheeks. She didn’t know if she was crying because a chapter in her life was ending or out of fear over the chapter that was beginning. All she did know was that Austin would be there to hold her through the changes.

Brushing her hair away, he kissed each tear. “We’re going to take this slow. We’ll figure it out together. Ronny, you’re too important to me for me to get this wrong. I need to do this right.”

His hands moved gently over her body. “And when we make love, we’re both going to know that is exactly what we’re doing. No one-night stand. No games.”

“Just promise me one thing.” She fought back tears. “Promise me we will make love.”

“You can bet on it, pretty lady.”