Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 95049 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 475(@200wpm)___ 380(@250wpm)___ 317(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95049 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 475(@200wpm)___ 380(@250wpm)___ 317(@300wpm)
“Thanks,” I mutter, mentally calculating how much food is going to cost.
With me not making any money at the pub or from making college students cute outfits, my savings is going to dwindle to nothing quickly. If I were back in Seattle, I’d have my meal plan I paid for, so I’d be good to go.
The doorbell chimes, and a moment later, Lorenzo comes back, setting two large pies on the island. He lifts the lid, and the cheesy goodness has my stomach rumbling in excitement.
“Want a beer?” he asks, getting one from the fridge.
“I probably shouldn’t. Leo might wake up, and I need to be alert.”
Lorenzo glances back at me, his blue eyes assessing me, and I smirk.
“Are you mocking me?”
I shrug, and he tosses a beer my way.
“This parenting shit is new to me,” he says, grabbing us each a slice of pizza and having a seat at the island across from me.
“I can’t even imagine having to look after another human every day, twenty-four hours a day. I can barely look after myself,” I admit, taking a bite of the pizza.
When the cheese and sauce hit my tongue, I moan in pleasure, and Lorenzo’s gaze meets mine.
“Sorry.” I shrug. “I’m starved.”
“Having Leo is a lot of work, and I never planned to be a single dad, but he’s worth it.” He takes a bite of his pizza and then washes it down with a sip of his beer.
“He’s adorable and happy. You’re doing a good job.”
I pick up the cards I was holding, and he glances down at them.
“Blackjack?”
I nod. “Know how to play?”
“Matteo and Dominick run an underground casino, so I play occasionally.”
I gather the cards, shuffle them, and then deal us each two cards.
We go back and forth and then show our cards.
“Nineteen,” Lorenzo says.
“Twenty-one.”
He glares, but it’s playful, and I bark out a laugh, not used to him not being completely serious.
“Again.”
“You got it.”
We play a few more rounds while we eat and drink, and after I win each time, he huffs.
“You’re cheating.”
I snort out a laugh and shake my head. “Unless someone’s counting the cards, blackjack is all luck.”
“Can you do that?”
I quirk a brow.
“Count the cards,” he clarifies.
I shrug and deal, and after we both announce we’re staying, I win again.
“Bullshit! You’re counting the cards,” he accuses, snatching the cards from the table so he can shuffle them.
“I am not!” I laugh as he deals this hand. “If I were counting the cards, I would have to focus. It’s not as easy as you’d think. I’d have to assign a value to every card and then keep a running count so I could calculate …”
I stop talking when I notice he’s gawking at me.
“Can you seriously count cards?” he asks.
“Yeah.” I raise a shoulder and take a sip of my beer. “My mom worked at a casino on the reservation, hoping to bag a rich guy, and when the babysitter wouldn’t show up, she’d be forced to bring me to work with her. A few of the regulars took pity on me and taught me how to play. And then, because I think they thought it was funny, they taught me how to count cards. I was young—like twelve, maybe thirteen—so I didn’t know that it was illegal. It worked out when I got to college and needed to make some quick money. The fraternities would host casino nights, and I’d win a few thousand dollars.”
I grin, and Lorenzo shakes his head.
“Are you seriously judging me?” I scoff. “Like your best friends aren’t into shady shit.”
I don’t know what all their business entails, but between what Nicole said, what I overheard during the wedding weekend, and the info I found when I did a Google search, it’s clear they’re far from saints.
“I’m not judging you,” he says. “I’m judging your mom for letting her vulnerable daughter hang out with grown men. Anything could’ve happened to you.”
“Like what? Me getting trafficked?” I quirk a brow. “In case you forgot, my mother agreed with Eric’s plan to give me to Santiago to pay off his debt. I was and will always be my mother’s biggest regret.” I say it matter-of-factly, even though, after all these years, it still hurts to know that the only biological relative I have can barely stand me.
“Fuck her,” Lorenzo says, dealing us cards. “Now, show me how you count cards. You have me intrigued.”
“Why?” I take my cards and glance around at the extravagant kitchen and dining room. “You in need of some quick cash?”
Lorenzo snorts out a laugh. “You never know. This crazy chick convinced me to marry her without a prenup.” He raises a brow. “She might be planning to take me for half of everything.”
From his playful tone, I know it’s only meant as a joke, but what he says still rubs me the wrong way.