Page 85 of Fall For Me
Twenty-Five
Hannah
“You’re cheating!” I give Granny the stink eye and fold the cards in my hand.
“I’m not cheatin’. Yer just not as good at poker as ya think you are.”
“Ha! Yeah, we’ll see about that when it’s my deal.”
I lean to the side and glance under the table. Where the fuck are the cards? I know that old hag slipped them under here somewhere. My eyes scan the little seat on her walker to make sure she didn’t put them there.
“Whatcha lookin’ for?”
“I don’t know . . . A couple of dropped cards . . . A stacked deck maybe. There’s two things I’m good at, Granny. Two things. Hockey and poker. You can’t bullshit a bullshitter,” I say, scoping out the area underneath her chair.
“Why don’t you teach Jade?”
“Teach Jade what? How to play poker?”
“No. Teach her howto play hockey.”
Her comment throws me off, and I slowly rise back up to a sitting position.
“I’m just sayin’. That girl has been watchin’ her daddy play on the TV since she was born. She loves the game. By the time she was three, she was able to name every player on the Blaze team. I bet she’d love to play.”
That’s actually not a bad idea. Just as I open my mouth to say something, the doorbell rings.
“Maybe that’s Publisher’s Clearinghouse, comin’ to tell me I won ten million dollars,” she says.
I glance back at her, my brows tugging together. “Who?”
“Never mind. You’re too damn young to know what I’m talkin’ about,” she says as I swing the door open.
“Oh,” I gasp, blinking at the woman standing in front of me.
My God. She’s beautiful. Emerald-green eyes and long black hair. Tanned skin. And her legs . . . wow . . . How are they that damn long?
She raises a brow. “Is Sean here?”
I stand at the door, blinking.
She tosses out a hand. “Well? Is he here or not?”
“He’s not available.”
Literally and figuratively.
“That’s okay. I’ll wait,” she says and takes a step forward to come in.
Oh no, you won’t.
I go to slam the door in her face, but she catches it with her foot and slings it back open, bouncing the doorknob off the wall.
“Hey!” I snap.
“I know that man has enough money to hire someone with better hospitality,” she clips, giving me a slow once over before she rolls her eyes, mumbling something under her breath about having me fired. Pulling her phone out of her back pocket, she places it up to her ear.
“I don’t work for—” I start to argue, but she cuts me off by placing her palm up in front of my face to stop me from talking.
