Irresistible Bachelors: Books 1-5 by Landish, Lauren (bts books to read TXT) 📕

“He’s a lucky bastard,” Kevin White, another buddy of mine in his early thirties who’s sitting beside me, agrees. Shaking his head, he rolls back the sleeves of his white dress shirt, his blonde hair glinting against the single light hanging above our heads. Having lost nearly all night, he’s not as pissed as Jason is. But then again, Kevin never gets that pissed about anything. I bet he could lose his life savings and his reaction would be mild.

“Sorry, boys,” I say with a grin and then joke, “I taught Phil Ivey everything he knows.”

Jason lets out a derisive snort. “Dude, you’re so full of shit. Your whole game is about sitting there with that cocky smirk on your face and getting lucky on the river.”

I huff out a short laugh. “Don’t hate. A win’s a win.”

“And a dick’s a dick,” Jason snarls.

“Hey, hey, now,” Gavin Adams says sternly from across the table, shaking his head at Jason. Dressed all in black, he looks like the dark knight with golden hair as he scowls. “Let’s not. We all know Oliver’s good. We’re all grown men here. There’s no reason to get pissed when we lose. This is like the third time you’ve popped off after a loss, and it’s getting old.”

Gavin’s words seemed to calm Jason at once. “You’re right.” He barely looks my way as he adds, “Sorry, Oliver. Tired of losing, that’s all.”

As a former football star and kind of a celebrity, Gavin has more clout with the friends in our circle. No matter how wrong he might be, they almost always agree with whatever he says. It’s a nice perk, but it’s got to get old with everyone being fake around you. I’d rather someone give it to me straight.

I toss Gavin an imperceptible nod of thanks, though I think I could’ve handled the situation just fine myself.

“All good,” I tell Jason. “No offense taken.”

“Yeah, cause you have my money,” Jason mutters under his breath, but I pretend I don’t hear it.

“Glad y’all got that out the way. Now can we fucking play?” Kevin says.

The blood rushes through my veins at his words, Jason’s anger quickly forgotten. Looking at my stash, I rub my palms together in anticipation. “Let’s do it.”

I love playing poker and taking risks. The higher the stakes, the bigger the rush.

Rock climbing, sky diving, martial arts, poker . . . if there’s a real risk involved, I want a taste of it. It hasn’t always been this way, though.

As an executive at Steele Pharmaceuticals, I never wanted for cash. My father was the CEO and owner, and I was his right-hand man. I could have and do anything I wanted. But with that position of power came a fuck ton of stress . . . along with a lot of disagreements. The stress and the arguing got so bad that I eventually sold all of my shares of the company and quit after my seven-year tenure, leaving my Dad to run the company by himself.

My father was furious with me over my move. He thought my leaving at the height of our success was a huge slap in the face. But I couldn’t help myself. If I’d stayed there any longer, we would’ve ended up at each other’s throat and hating each other. I didn’t want it to be that way, so I left.

A year later, I have a net worth of over ten million, living the small-town life. I even own a small home a few blocks down from my mother when I could be living large. It’s been quite an adjustment for someone so used to the city. But it’s nice to be able to help my mom, a poor single woman who chose not to accept a red cent from my wealthy father when they got divorced.

“Well, as long as you gentlemen don’t start pulling out guns and shooting each other,” says old man Joe, the sixty-year-old barber and host for our games, “I’m fine with it.”

I chuckle as my eyes find the man sitting at the head of the table, dressed in dark clothing with a straw hat on. Old Joe has a large belly and a big mop of salt and pepper hair. He has one of those finely groomed beards that hides his face and makes him look like he’s jolly even when he’s pissed. He’s the living punchline of the old joke, if a town has two barbers, go to the one with the bad haircut since he’s the good one and the other one sucks.

“Let me get a smoke first,” Jason says, taking out a cigarette and a lighter in one smooth flourish. He’s about to light it when Gavin shakes his head.

“Not in here,” Gavin says firmly. “If you want to do that shit, go outside.”

“Come on, man,” Jason whines. “Are you serious? We’re playing poker. Smoking goes hand in hand.”

“We have to tell you this shit every time. You’re the only one who smokes here. Take it outside.”

Jason scowls, still fingering the cigarette like it’s his lifeline. “My wife doesn’t care if I smoke.”

“Yeah?” Gavin says, “Well, mine does. And I’m not going back home smelling like second-hand ass funk.”

Jason mutters something under his breath, but he stuffs the lighter and the pack of cigarettes back into his pocket.

“How’s Brianna anyway?” Kevin asks.

A light brightens Gavin’s eyes and a slight smile comes to his lips. “Pretty good. She’s having a blast raising our little man Rafe, but lately, she’s been complaining about the baby weight that won’t come off.”

Kevin chuckles. “Tara does the same thing. But I think it fits her.”

Gavin nods, a boyish smirk curling his lips. “I rather like it myself,” he agrees.

I shift in my seat, feeling slightly uncomfortable. Talk of wives and babies always makes me feel anxious for some reason. I don’t particularly have a desire to settle down with a woman and have children.

Not when my last relationship