I copied his motion.
The dealer nodded and then looked at my next stack. I followed his gaze and then jumped a little in my seat, realizing I had to look at the cards myself. I picked them up and saw a two as my newest addition.
The old man frowned. “You can either stay or ask for a hit.”
“What should I do?” I felt the stress level rising. The glow from my earlier win was fading fast, and I hadn’t even had a chance to celebrate it properly yet. I was pretty sure a victory dance was called for in this situation, considering I’d just won like three hundred bucks. That’s an hour’s worth of my time as a lawyer and I’d done it in five minutes without having to do any legal research. No wonder people liked going to Vegas.
“I can’t tell you what you should do. Just consider that if the dealer busts, any hand that isn’t already busted is a winner.”
“Busted?”
“Over twenty one,” he clarified.
“Oh. Okay.” I counted up my card values. I had either thirteen or three. Neither sounded close enough to twenty one. “Okay, I want you to hit me.” I stared at the dealer, waiting for him to comply. He stared at me like I hadn’t just talked directly to him.
The old man nudged me. “Hand signals. Big brother. Remember?”
The guy to my right said nothing, but he demonstrated the table tickle for my benefit all the same.
I wiggled three of my fingers on the table, like I was tickling the felt too. The old man chuckled and the dealer smiled. “That works,” he said, throwing a card down on my second pile.
I lifted the corner. Five. That makes seven plus the eleven. Eighteen. I looked at the old man. “That looks pretty good to me.”
He nodded, all seriousness now. “Looks pretty good to me too.”
I waved my hand over the table. “I’m staying put, right here. Don’t hit me anymore. I’ve had enough hitting.”
I felt a presence behind me just moments before the heat of a large body standing very close came through my dress. I looked over my shoulder and saw the arresting good looks of the cowboy. I grinned, hoping my charm would keep him from being angry over the amount of money on the table.
He smiled back. “Looks like you’ve been busy.” He lifted an eyebrow at me and then looked pointedly at the table.
Chapter Ten
MY NIPPLES GOT HARD UNDER my dress and a zing of something electric went right down to my the space between my legs. I was too flustered to come up with anything even mildly intelligent in response. “Yes. Busy learning blackjack.”
“Your girlfriend’s a quick study,” said the old man. He motioned the dealer for a hit. When he looked at his card he frowned and then flipped them both over.
I counted them up, letting the girlfriend comment just breeze on by. “Busted,” I said, very sad that he’d lost. I pouted in his honor.
The dealer swooped up his cards and his money.
The old man nodded. “Busted, indeed.” He stood and motioned to his chair while looking at the cowboy. “I’m done. Good luck to you both.”
I spun around, my legs brushing up against the cowboy. I tried to ignore the way that simple touch was making my pulse hammer in my veins. “You’re leaving?”
“Yep. Time to call it a day.”
“Aw, that’s a bummer. But thank you so much for your help.” I hopped off the stool and grabbed him in a hug. He totally reminded me of my grandpa who’d died three years earlier.
He patted my back. “It was my pleasure, Lady Luck. Have a nice evening.” He shook the cowboy’s hand. “Take care of her. She’s got lots of potential.”
“I’ll do what I can,” said the cowboy, nodding once.
I watched my mentor walk away, wondering what he meant by that. It sounded nice. I liked the idea of having a lot of potential. There were people who’d known me for years who’d never say such a thing about me, but they weren’t allowed to ruin my night. Not tonight. I pushed their ghosts out of my head.
The cowboy held the back of the stool I’d been saving for him. “Are you staying?” he asked.
I stood there, my face suddenly flaming red and my body screaming for more of him than just a blackjack partner or victim of my clutziness. What the hell. “Sure. I have to finish this game, right?”
He nodded. “Take this seat.” He motioned at the one with his chips in front of it.
I took it, feeling the sweat break out under my arms when he claimed the seat recently vacated by my busted buddy.
“Do you want to see my cards? Your cards, actually?” I asked. I fingered the chips in front of me for a few seconds and then jerked my hands away, resting them in my lap.
“Hands on the table, please,” said the dealer, frowning at me.
I threw them up to rest on the padded bar in front of the pile of chips, afraid I was about to get arrested for attempted cheating.