Page 68 of Out to Get Her
Erin was skilled at the game itself, but since she’d grown up playing with her grandfather, she’d never mastered betting strategy.
Zach, on the other hand, had boasted about his bourré mastery all day leading up to their game. He’d brought his “best” deck and a gallon plastic bag filled with pennies for them to use as chips. Despite all that, he was clearly the worst player of the trio.
The house shook around them as a howl roared past the window near Erin. The glass rattled, and she instinctively looked over her shoulder, knowing it was boarded up and she couldn’t see outside.
Hurricane Tristan had crept closer all day, but the winds had intensified quickly over the past half hour. While she was grateful Grandpa didn’t have any big trees close enough to fall on them, she wasn’t used to being out in the open like this in a storm anymore. The house was raised off the ground and older than all of them put together.
“We’re fine,” Zach reminded her in his soothing tenor. “Sam, I think it’s your turn.”
Marty squawked in protest as a big gust rattled the house. Not a fan of this storm any more than Erin was.
Samantha’s phone rang beside her. When she picked it up, Erin played a card while simultaneously craning her neck to catch a glimpse of the caller.
Not that it was any of her business.
Somehow, she’d loosened up around Zach and Samantha this evening.Somehowbeing a bunch of her grandfather’s gin from the back of the cabinet. Probably the same bottle she used to sneak sips out of on Saturday nights.
Her grandfather’s bourbon was long gone, though. It had served its purpose, fueling a notorious shed fire.
“Hey, Chief. Problem?”
Samantha had snapped into business mode, and somehow it was sexy as hell.
That dang gin again.
That ginandthose jeans wrapped tight around Sam’s hips and thighs.
A frown settled in deep on Sam’s face. “I was kind of hoping you had them in your office.”
Erin and Zach exchanged a look, both shrugging to let the other know they had no idea what Samantha was talking about.
Samantha looked up at the pair, then said, “I’ll be there in five minutes.”
“Something wrong?” Zach asked, as Samantha stood and looked around for her keys.
“No,” she said. “I just have to get to the station. The chief needs help finding something.”
“Now?” Erin said. “You can’t go out inthis.” She gestured at the boarded-up window as Hurricane Tristan shook the house to emphasize the point.
Samantha grabbed her keys from the dinette table. “Sorry to break up the party. Is it okay if Dexter stays here? I’ll be back later. Just need to check on something real quick.”
“Dexter’s fine.” Something was wrong. Erin didn’t know what, but something had Samantha spooked. “I’ll go with you. You shouldn’t go out in this alone. Zach can stay here with Dexter. Right?”
“Uh, yeah. Sure. More snacks for me,” Zach said. “But should either of you be going out in this? Storm’s still a Cat 1.”
“No.” Sam’s voice snapped with a sharpness that cut through Erin and stopped her in her tracks. “I need to go alone.”
Erin’s face stung with the cutting tone of Samantha’s words.
The gin swirled in her brain, feeding her memories of her previous conversations with Samantha and her family and not being ready to reveal certain parts of herself.
Hiding out here during a storm with Dexter was fine. Kissing on her front porch in the middle of nowhere was also fine. Being seen together in public? Clearly not fine.
Whether it was because Erin was the town screw-up or Samantha wasn’t ready to be seen with a woman—any woman—it didn’t matter. It added up to the same thing.
“Need to go alone?” Erin asked. “Or don’t want to be seen there with me?”
Samantha’s eyes softened, and Erin briefly doubted her conclusion.
