He winces slightly. “I’m afraid so. It just makes the most sense not to spend the money on rent when I have to go back to school in the fall. Are you with your parents too?”
“No, I’m in a guesthouse of the guy whose kid I’m nannying.”
“Guesthouse?” Jeff huffs. “Guy must be rich.”
Oh, if only you knew, Jeff.
“So one more year of law school, and then you’re fighting crime?”
“I guess so. I have to pass the bar exam first.”
“You were always so smart in school. I’m sure you’ll do well.”
“Not as smart as you,” Jeff replies knowingly.
I laugh that comment off and recross my legs, noticing Jeff’s eyes linger on my leg. Disappointment casts over me when I realize that I don’t get that warm feeling in my body that erupts whenever Max looks at me.
Honestly, I’m not sure anyone has ever looked at me the way Max does. He looks at me like I’m some sort of foreign creature he has to study to understand. What’s worse? I like it.
Which is stupid because I’m moving on from Max. He made his intention very clear last week. Plus, Dakota said it herself, women probably throw themselves at him every day. He could easily find someone who’s a lot less complicated than his kid’s nanny to hook up with. And a hell of a lot hotter.
I pull the front of my shirt off my body, feeling flush all of a sudden. “Should we get another drink?”
“Definitely,” Jeff answers, bouncing his knee nervously.
Unfortunately, this feels a bit like it’s going to be a repeat of junior prom night, and that wasn’t a happy ending for either of us.
My mood is markedly different for the rest of poker night. For starters, my daughter left with Wyatt. She got bored of playing cards shortly after Cassandra and her friend left. Then out of nowhere, Wyatt asked if Everly wanted to help him bottle-feed his baby goat Millie in the morning. We all call Millie a dog goat because she acts more like a pet than a farm animal. Which means my kid packed her overnight bag in less than ten seconds.
They took off over an hour ago, and since then, I have nothing to distract my poisonous thoughts, so I’m just brooding over Cassandra out on a fucking date. I’m also losing a shitload of money because I’m too distracted to pay attention to my cards.
“Max, what is your problem?” Josh barks, snapping my eyes up from the spot on the table I’m burning a hole through.
“Nothing, I’m fine,” I snap, frowning at him.
Josh looks at Dean. Those two used to hate each other back when Dean offered to be Lynsey’s baby daddy over Josh, the actual baby daddy, but now they seem in cahoots with each other. I don’t like it.
“Are you bothered about Everly at Wyatt’s cabin?” Dean asks, watching me pensively. “Your brothers’ cabins are kind of in the middle of nowhere, right?”
“Yeah, but I’m not worried about that. Everly loves it up there.”
“Then what has your panties in a twist?” Calder inquires, his brows wagging like he already knows the answer.
“Let’s play another hand. Whose deal is it?”
“Yours,” they all answer in unison.
Rolling my eyes, I grab the deck of cards and begin aggressively shuffling. Cassandra has been out for over an hour now. If it was a bad date, she’d likely be home by now, right? My house isn’t far from downtown. A five-minute Uber ride at best. Maybe she needs a ride? I haven’t had any whiskey in a while, so I could pick her up. Maybe I should text her to make sure she’s safe. She does live on my property, so that makes her my responsibility.
Me: Do you need a ride home?
I hold my breath when I see the typing bubbles pop up and then instantly deflate when they go away. I’m staring at my phone as I try to shuffle again and curse when cards slip out of my hands and clatter to the floor.
“Fuck,” I growl, pushing my chair back to pick them up.
“Jesus Christ, I can’t watch this anymore,” Luke bellows from the far end of the table. “You were barely fine before the nanny left, and since then, you are low-key losing your fucking mind. Just admit it already.”
“Admit what?” I grab the cards and shoot a murderous look at my baby brother.
“That you want to nut the nanny!” Calder cajoles.
“That’s enough,” I bark, dropping the cards on the floor again. “Show some fucking respect, asshole.”
My hands are shaky as I pick up the cards and picture her laughing at some guy’s joke. The young guys in Boulder are douchebags of top variety. They’re Instagram success stories who like to jog, pretend they like IPAs, and they likely have a dog they’re obsessed with. Basically, Dean fucking Moser.