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“All in, huh?” he questions, and his eyes observe my body language like any good poker player would do. Although, it’s more of a show than anything else. I can already tell he’s about a minute away from folding his cards.

And with a swift shake of his head and his beefy fingers swiping his cards toward the middle, he does, in fact,fold.

“Oh boy!” I let out a giddy giggle as the dealer shoves the chips back in my direction. “That was kind of exciting. But I was also so nervous at the same time. Is that normal?”

White Beard grins. “Yeah, darlin’. I guess you could say every hand can provide a bit of an adrenaline rush.”

I make a mental note to fold my next few hands to keep these men guessing, while occasionally asking questions like,“Is a straight better than a flush, or is it the other way around?”

The second hand I fold turns into quite the standoff between White Beard and Navy Suit, and while they decide their move at the turn, my phone lights up with a text notification.

Jude: I just got back to the room, and you’re not here. Is Mike Tyson’s tiger in the bathroom? Should I start checking the roof now?

I laugh, typing out an answer that’s slightly more grounded in reality than Hollywood.

Me: I’m losing all your free casino money.

Technically speaking, I’m up about five hundred.

Jude: HA. Did you leave a trail of cookies to help me find you, or should I just ask you where you are?

Me: At our lovely casino’s poker room.

Jude: Hold up. You’re playing poker in the Venetian?

Me: Texas Hold’em, to be exact.

Jude: Babe, no offense, but do you know how to play poker?

Pfft. Of course, I know how to fucking play.I’m almost offended that he asked me that question, but then I realize it’s that kind of thought process that’s going to allow me to steal all of these old dude’s chips.

So, I keep that mind-set and shoot a rambling text back.

Me: I mean, I know that a straight means that all the cards have to go in order. And a flush means that all your cards have to have the same cute symbol at the top. Like, all the hearts need to match. Or all the spades. Personally, I like diamonds the best.

Jude: LOL. Sounds like you’re all set, then.

Me: Does being back at the room mean you’re done with your meeting?

Jude: Yep. And I’m on the prowl for my sexy little Girl Scout.

Me: Well, I’m pretty sure you can find her in the Poker Room. She’ll be the one wearing a pair of jean shorts and a T-shirt that says “The Secret Club.”

Jude: Wait…those cutoff jean shorts where I get to see the bottom curve of your ass?

I furrow my brow. This is the only pair of jean shorts I brought with me, and, to be honest, I don’t recall my butt cheeks actually hanging out of them.

Me: Uh…pretty sure you can’t see my ass in these.

Jude: I did.

Me: When?

Jude: When you were bending over this morning to get something out of your suitcase.

I shake my head on a silent laugh. I swear, sometimes, he’s like the pervy, underwear-stealing stalker I didn’t even know I wanted.

Jude: I’ll be there before you can say the Girl Scout Promise.