Page 125 of Seven Year Itch
“My what?” I’m suddenly distracted by several voices coming from the kitchen around the wall.
I walk over and see Cozy, Max, Trista, Wyatt, Luke, and Johanna all eating snacks around the island. This looks like the opposite of a girl’s night. This looks like a family reunion.
“Why are there so many people here?”
“We invited some extras for our poker night,” Calder answers with a shrug, like it’s totally normal for him to be here and we didn’t just get in the worst fight I’ve ever had with a man I’m sleeping with.
“Are the ladies participating in the poker playing?”
“Yes, that’s what this is for.” He thrusts the cash into my hand. “I know you like to fuck the patriarchy by letting a man pay for your buy-in, and I aim to please.”
“What doesfuck the patriarchymean?” Ethan asks, shoving a pretzel into his mouth.
Calder waggles his eyebrows at me. “You want to answer that one, Blondie?”
Ethan stares at me, waiting for my answer, and I gasp at the memory of a different Fletcher child asking me this same question many years ago. It was in this very room with this very mountain man looking at me just like he is now.
And he called me Blondie.
My throat feels tight as the group from the kitchen descends upon the dining area. I’m still a bit frozen as Cozy spots me and smiles brightly. She walks over, and my face morphs into something a bit less friendly.
“What the hell is going on?”
“It’s poker night!”
“I really need people to stop staying that.” I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Are we staying here for poker night?”
“Yes, we are.”
“Why are we staying for poker night?”
“Because I think it could be fun.”
I hit her with a punishing glower because something is seriously up, but there’s too many people around for me to throw a fit about it. So I accept the giant glass of wine Trista hands me and head over to the table, sitting directly across from the man whose face I can’t stop picturing, and do my best to go with the flow.
“What are these cards?” I ask as Ethan deals out two cards to everyone.
“Calder’s baby pictures!” Johanna answers with a laugh, but she’s not playing poker. She’s walking around the table while feeding a bottle to Stevie. “Wasn’t he the cutest baby?”
“Yeah, Ace. Wasn’t I the cutest baby?” Calder waggles his brows at me suggestively, and I start to wonder if perhaps I dreamed about our big fight and him punching Randal and me riding home in a cab crying.
Or maybe right now is a dream, and I’m about to wake up any minute. Either way, I’m glad he’s calling me Ace instead of Blondie. That was a horrible nickname he slapped me with all those years ago.
As everyone begins placing their early bets, Calder has me nearly spitting out my wine when he says, “Hey Dakota, did you know in seventh grade I shit my pants?”
I sputter and cough and hit my chest, struggling to catch my breath as Cozy slaps my back from her seat next to me. “No... Why?”
He shrugs. “Just wanted to share that with you.”
I frown and do my best to focus back on the cards.
“Wyatt, how many fights would you say I’ve been in?” Calder asks, propping his bearded chin on his hand and staring at his older brother.
Wyatt scrunches his forehead in thought. “I want to say five.”
“Six,” Luke corrects, pulling his baseball cap down low over his face. “We brawled with those guys that talked shit about Trista last year at the Merc.”
“Oh, that’s right!” Trista gasps, pressing a hand to her heart andsticking her lower lip out. “You guys were the sweetest little assaulters.”
