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“My hand? Hell no.” I push the cards toward Cole, taking care to mix them around with the rest he’s trying to gather.
“Or whatever’s making the wheels churn in that brain of yours,” Reed says casually. “I imagine there’s a little hamster running up there nonstop on a Dynasty-branded wheel.”
“I’ll submit that one to research and development,” I say. “Are we going to play poker, or what?”
“Fine, asshole, but we all have to show our hands at the end from now on,” Cole says. “House rules. My house.”
Reed and Cole are my best friends. It’s not like I’ll hold out on them if I have something to say. But there’s nothing to say about Sophie.
Because nothing’s going to happen between us. I’ve already decided.
“Meant to tell you that the fireplace looks really nice,” Reed says, lifting his chin behind me. I turn to take in the renovation and grunt in agreement.
“Celebration piece,” Cole says, dealing another round. “Landed another client.”
“Let me guess, Dubai?” Reed asks. “Do you know how many high rollers actually live in my penthouses in Dubai? I’d say less than forty percent of the rooms are actually for temporary guests.”
“Nigeria, actually,” Cole says, smirking and flipping the bird as he catches Reed trying to sneak a peek at his cards. “Lagos.”
“Interesting,” Reed muses. “We’ve been looking into buying a hotel chain in Lagos. Worth it, you think?”
Cole doesn’t get a chance to answer. He stiffens for half a second before relaxing completely. I’ve seen him do it before, and it’s something of a modern marvel every time it happens. If you didn’t know Cole, who normally wears a hard expression and takes no shit from anyone, he can be intimidating.
But when Archer’s around, it’s like Cole completely changes into a big teddy bear.
“Hey, buddy,” Cole says warmly, opening his arms as the kid shuffles around the poker table toward him. “What’s going on? We went to bed, remember? Did it not stick?”
The five-year-old clambers up into Cole’s lap, his wrinkled pajamas printed in cartoonish piggy banks and coins. He regards me with big, sleepy eyes for a moment before looking up at Cole.
Cole looks down at him softly. “I’d deal you in, but we’re still working on your poker face, remember?”
“I had a bad dream,” Archer says, his voice fuzzy with fatigue. “And then I woke up and heard you.”
“Sorry, Archie,” Reed says swiftly, giving the boy a little smile. “It was Uncle Dec’s loud mouth, wasn’t it?”
“Don’t get him riled up,” Cole warns. “We have a big birthday party to go to tomorrow morning. Brunch. Who organizes a brunch-themed party for a six-year-old?”
“Sounds delicious,” I say judiciously. “I bet there’ll be waffles.”
“Gentleman, bid my buddy good night,” Cole announces. “I’ll be back.”
He hoists Archer up, who curls instantly into Cole’s chest. “Wasn’t that a full house?”
Cole bites down on his lip and closes his eyes. I don’t even try to fight my smile as Reed claps his hand over his mouth to stifle a laugh.
“Once we get that poker face, you’re going to be a real card shark, buddy,” Cole says, carrying the boy out of the room.
I watch them go. When the coast is clear, Reed flicks a glance at me.
“Kid looks just like Rebecca,” he says. “Can’t be easy.”
“Couldn’t imagine Cole doing anything else,” I say, and Reed nods in agreement.
Because technically, Archer is Cole’s nephew. Three years ago, Cole adopted the kid after a car crash killed his mother—Cole’s sister, Rebecca.
It wasn’t an easy time, and Cole was in no way prepared to be a father.
Today, though, I’m of the opinion that Archer’s one of the best things to ever happen to Cole. They’re good for each other.
