Page 9 of A Lot Like Love
Chapter 3
Ryder’s head was pounding as he waited for Chloe. If she’d let him keep drinking he’d at least still be numb, but he was sobering up fast and reality was hanging over him like the grim reaper. He’d lost it all.
He dropped his head between his knees and shut his eyes. His family had worked for generations to create an empire, his grandfather had made theirs one of the wealthiest families in Texas, and now he’d gambled the biggest portion of his inheritance away before the ink had even dried on the paperwork. No amount of bull riding or borrowing could make up the cash difference, either—his only salvation was that his part of the ranch wasn’t on their oil land. His big brother was custodian to all of their joint property now, and Nate would never jeopardize even one blade of grass when it came to King land. Which was why Nate, not him, was named successor to the empire.
“Still feeling sorry for yourself?”
Ryder forced his head up. It was like raising a lead balloon. “Yeah,” he said. He was feeling more like a complete idiot than sorry.
“That’s the problem with gamblers,” Chloe continued, slipping on a leather jacket that made her look like a cute biker girl, purse under her arm as she stopped beside him and offered him a hand. “The highs are high and the lows are very, very low.”
Ryder clasped her palm and pulled himself up, letting her take more of his weight than he ever would have if he were sober. His head might be throbbing but he was still drunk enough to be unsteady on his feet.
“I’m not a gambler.” Her words grated, rubbed him the wrong way.
She made a noise that sounded like laughter, only she wasn’t smiling. “Says the guy who just lost his property in a poker game.”
Ouch. “I might be an idiot, but I’m not a problem gambler,” he told her, keeping hold of her hand as he walked on unsteady feet out to the parking lot. “I usually only bet on horses. Am I’m damn good at it.”
“So you’re not a poker player?” she asked, stopping beside his SUV.
“I guess not,” he admitted, fishing his keys from his back pocket when she held out her hand. “How did you know this was my SUV and why aren’t we taking your car?”
She took the keys and left him on the passenger side, leaning on the door trying to steady himself. The driver’s door slammed shut and he forced himself to yank his open and join her.
“Because it’s the only Range Rover Sport in the lot, and my car’s a heap of junk. I could leave it unlocked and still no one would bother stealing it.” She laughed. “I know you have money, but I still would have picked you as more of a pickup truck kinda guy.”
Ryder shrugged. “I’ve got both. But this drives like a demon.”
They were silent as she started the SUV, adjusted her seat, and revved it into life. He stifled a grin as she eased off the gas—his V8 engine was hot and ready to go as she exited the lot.
“So let me get this straight,” she said, turning her attention back to him. “You’re telling me you’re not even a regular poker player and yet you were prepared to put everything on the line over one game?”
He shrugged. So she thought he was stupid—he did too—but talking it to death wasn’t exactly helping. “I’d taken his money all night and I wanted to teach the asshole a lesson. If you knew him, you’d understand.”
She made that half-laugh noise again that was starting to really piss him off. “He was playing you, Ryder. A good poker player knows their limits. That was just stupid.”
Now his back was up, like prickles tearing along the spine of a dog about to pick a fight. “And you know a whole lot about poker all of a sudden?”
She glanced across at him, her gaze piercing. “You’d be surprised.”
Ryder stayed silent, too busy nursing his wounds to argue with her over something he was already pissed about. What the hell could she possibly know about poker anyway?
“Left or right?” she asked, braking.
“Left,” he said, leaning forward to turn the radio on. “Then keep going straight and take the second exit.”
“So what are you going to do about it?” Chloe asked, using the control on the steering wheel to turn the music down.
She’d gone from hot to pain in the ass pretty damn quick. “I’m going to feel sorry for myself, drink some more, then worry about it in the morning.”
She sighed, loudly. “So you’re happy to bet everything and lose it, but you haven’t even thought about doing the same to win it back?”
Ryder pushed up from his slouched position, turning in the seat to face her. “I don’t have anything else left to bet.” Well, technically he did, but he wasn’t putting anything else on the line. “And why the hell are you so damn nosy anyway?”
She glanced at him again, her eyes darting from the road to him and back.
“What you have is an arrogant son of a bitch who thinks he’s the shit right now,” Chloe told him, her voice low. “Which means you have something to work with.”
