Chapter 7:

Full House, Empty Bluff

The cozy and inviting atmosphere inside the cabin was a sharp contrast to the storm outside, as rain poured down in steady, rhythmic waves against the roof. The fire was spreading a soft, golden light throughout the room, with the scent of their impromptu Thanksgiving dinner still lingering in the air—sizzling burgers pulled straight from the freezer, fresh potatoes from the ranch, and a medley of canned carrots, peas, and tomatoes that came together to feel like a proper holiday meal. Despite Maddie somehow managing to burn the powdered gravy sauce. She hadn't been exaggerating when she said she couldn't cook to save her life.

David leaned back in his chair, a contented smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as he glanced across the table at Maddie Hayes. She was absentmindedly twirling a fork in her hand, but her gaze kept flicking up to meet his. The one that felt private, like a secret exchange meant only for them.

"Not bad for a Thanksgiving in the middle of nowhere, huh?" said David, breaking the silence.

Maddie set her fork down and smiled softly, leaning her elbows on the table. "Well, it's not exactly what I'm used to—no roasted turkey, no crystal wine glasses—but it's… nice." She paused, her eyes catching his. "I mean, really nice."

"Don't let the burgers fool you," David chuckled, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "There's ice cream for dessert."

Maddie raised an eyebrow, feigning suspicion. "Leftover from the Jurassic era, still lurking in the freezer?"

David put a hand to his heart in mock offense. "Maybe one year. Tops."

"Sounds perfectly safe."

"Safe, sure. Delicious? Debatable." David pushed back from the table, heading for the small freezer.

Maddie watched him as we walked away. It was strange—sitting here in a small wooden house with David. No expectations, no arguments, no chaos. Just the two of them, sharing a meal. Maybe the whole domestic vibe wasn't so bad after all..

David approached the table with a flourish, carrying two bowls of slightly frostbitten ice cream, his best impression of a fancy waiter on full display. "Aged to perfection." He set one in front of her with a flourish. "Madame? Bon appétit."

Maddie laughed softly, the sound light and genuine. "You really are something else, Addison."

"I sure am." He leaned forward, his eyes twinkling with that familiar playful spark. "Something good, or something bad?"

Maddie gave him a teasing gaze, her voice dropping a little. "Something… in between."

Captivated by the fire slithering dance routine, they drifted to the couch after clearing the table. Sitting side by side, the quiet between them felt almost intimate. David leaned sideways and pulled two beers from a small fridge near the couch, popping the caps with practiced ease. With a crooked grin, he handed one to Maddie. "Sorry, but the wine sommelier quit last week," he said, his voice light but soft. "None of that fancy Pinot Grigio you're so fond of on the menu tonight, I'm afraid."

Maddie's gaze flickered toward the fire, her smile faltering. A moment of silence followed before she spoke again, her voice cracking.

"You missed the mark there, David."

The weight of his poorly-timed joke hit him like a brick. He opened his mouth, then closed it again, fumbling for something—anything—to say.

"Uh... Maddie, I didn't mean—" He rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly unable to meet her eyes. "That was... stupid. I wasn't thinking. I'm sorry." Her silence made him squirm, and he let out a nervous laugh, feeling cornered. "You know me—big mouth, small brain. It's a package deal," he added softly, the humour gone from his tone.

His awkward apology, the way he stumbled over his words, and the genuine regret in his eyes made her drop her defenses before finally letting out a quiet sigh. He looked at her again, this time his gaze more open and pleading, and her shoulders softened as she realized David hadn't meant to hurt her.

"Okay, fine," she murmured softly, her voice tinged with hesitation. "Just one." Maddie took a sip, wrinkling her nose at the taste but then relaxing into it. "It's actually not bad," she admitted. "Different."

David glanced at her, a wave of relief washing over him. He raised his bottle tentatively.

"To cabin life?"

She studied him for a moment. "Yeah. Maybe," before clanking her bottle against his.

There was another stretch of silence, only the sound of the rain and the crackle of the fire filling the room. Maddie shifted slightly, feeling the moment teetering on the edge of being too close.

"David?" she asked quietly, breaking the silence.

"Maddie?"

"Did you have any plans for Thanksgiving? I mean, if you weren't… stuck here with me."

David didn't answer right away. He took a slow sip of his beer, staring into the fire as if it held the answer. Maddie watched him closely, sensing that the question had hit a nerve. There was a vulnerability in his posture, in the way his shoulders slumped just a little.

"I was supposed to meet my dad in Philly," David said finally, his voice low and rougher than usual. "But… he changed his plans, last minute thing. Some Texas Hold'em tournament in Florida."

"I'm sorry," she said softly, her eyes searching his.

David shrugged unconvincingly. "It's fine. You know my dad. He's always got something going on. Poker tournaments, old buddies... Anything but spending time with his kids."

The edge of bitterness in his voice broke Maddie's heart a little. She had seen glimpses of it over the years; David putting on a tough front, always the one with the jokes and the grin, but she knew there was more beneath the surface.

"It's not a big deal, Maddie. Really," the resignation in his voice saying otherwise. "I had stuff to do here at the ranch, keep myself busy. At least the horses don't bail on me for a poker game."

Despite his attempts to brush it off, David couldn't even look at her now. Tightening his jaw, his eyes fixed on the fire. And it made Maddie realize how much she had hurt him too. They had gone through, and been so much together—partners, friends, lovers, enemies. They knew each other inside out, in ways no one else ever could. But there was always that space between them, that fear of being truly vulnerable, of letting the other in completely.

Maddie moved a little closer on the couch, her arm brushing against David's. Wanting to reach out, but the fear of making the wrong move kept her rooted in place. That magnetic pull, again. The one she had felt so many times before, drawing her to him like a lasso. It was so heavy she could nearly touch it.

A sudden rumble of thunder outside broke the quiet intimacy between them. David blinked, the noise jolting him back to reality.

"So," he said, his voice lighter now, though she could still hear the strain beneath it. "Why don't we play a game or something?"

"Yeah... why not. We've still got a few hours to kill before we go to bed." She said it casually, like it was the most normal thing to say in the world.

He raised an eyebrow, blinking at her.

"Before... we, go to bed?"

A beat.

Maddie's face betrayed her the moment she realized just how effortlessly the words had tumbled out. Did I just say that?

"What? No!" She held up his hands defensively. "I meant sleep! Just—sleep! Separate! Very separate sleep," she said, nodding a little too enthusiastically.

"Didn't even cross my mind… until now," he said teasingly.

Maddie was gasping like a fish. She suddenly felt acutely aware of everything about him. The way he was casually leaning against the back of the couch. that old blue sweater he was wearing. The worn out jeans and bare feet, his hair a bigger mess than usual after that shower. Domestic. He looked… domestic.

"I-I didn't mean—what I meant was—what I meant is— never mind what I meant. Just a slip of the tongue, okay? Casual. Happens to everyone." The cuff of her Phillies sweater suddenly getting all her attention.

It had been an ordinary evening filled with their usual back-and-forth: bickering over dinner and the creek, trading sarcastic barbs, and letting the hours slip by in a way that felt dangerously easy and comfortable. Too comfortable. Why wouldn't it anyway. That's why I said it. Because for a moment, it felt like it's normal for us to be here, for us to be like this. Like this is what we do. What we are. But we're not. We're… whatever we are. Business partners. Co-workers. Not…

"You okay?"

"Just tired. Long day. It came out wrong. You know how it is," she said defensively. "Forget I said that," she turned her gaze away, her fingers idly tracing the edge of her bottle.

"Maddie, you can have the bedroom. I'm perfectly fine on the couch." A smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. "Alone."

"Fine! Great. Perfect. I'm going to sleep. You are going to sleep. Alone. Separate sleeps. Like, normal sleeps. Because this isn't… we're not… it's not—"

She was rambling now, her hands waving in the air to emphasize her forced casualness, but only making it worse.

David paused for a split second, noticing the subtle shift in her tone. Am I missing something here?

"So," Maddie cleared her throat, hoping to ease the awkwardness too. "What kind of pastimes did you have in mind? Monopoly? Chess?"

David stood up, stretching his arms above his head as he headed over to the back of the room. A collection of well-worn board games sat neatly tucked away on a small shelf, their faded boxes hinting at years of casual play. He pulled out a deck of cards and grinned as he handed them to Maddie.

"Poker?"

Maddie hesitated, twirling the deck of cards in her hand before finally letting out a small, sheepish laugh. He arched an eyebrow, intrigued.

"Okay, I have a confession," she began, glancing sideways at him.

"A confession? Oh, this oughta be good. Spill it, Goldilocks."

She bit her lip, looking almost embarrassed. "I… don't know how to play poker."

"You, what?"

David stood still for a moment, staring at her like she'd just admitted to not knowing how to breathe. "Wait—" He blinked, setting his beer down on the table. "You don't know how to play poker?", his grin widening as he looked over at her, clearly delighted by her confession. "You're telling me, that Miss Ice Queen of Strategy and Logic doesn't know how to play poker?"

Maddie shook her head.

David chuckled, "You gotta be kidding me," shaking his head with playful disbelief.

"My parents would have been horrified." Maddie shrugged, a small blush creeping into her cheeks. "Poker was not considered … ladylike in our house."

"Not ladylike? What does that even mean? What did you play? Bridge with the Queen of England?"

"Don't be ridiculous," she retorted, rolling her eyes. "It was more like Scrabble and charades at family gatherings."

"Scrabble," David repeated, shaking his head. "All this time, you've never played poker? Never? Not even a little?"

"Not even a little," Maddie admitted with a faint, self-conscious smile. "Well, maybe you could... teach me?"

Maddie bit her lip as she looked up at him, her voice soft and full of innocence. David's heart did a little flip in his chest at the way she said it, She looked adorable.

"Only if you can spare some time, of course."

David grinned, leaning forward with a mischievous twinkle in his eye. "Spare some time? Maddie, you're about to enter the big leagues," he said, pulling up a chair next to her and shuffling the deck of cards. "This is gonna be fun."

Maddie leaned forward, her eyes narrowing playfully. "Deal the cards, Addison. Let's see if you're as good a teacher as you are a talker."

He raised his eyebrows.

"Strip poker...?"

"Don't push it."

They spent the next couple of hours sitting by the fire, David teaching Maddie the rules of poker, showing her how to bet, how to read her opponent's face, and how to bluff. To his surprise, she picked it up faster than he expected, her competitive side quickly coming to the surface.

After a few rounds, Maddie had not only gotten the hang of the game but had managed to beat David several times. She was practically glowing with pride, her cheeks flushed and her eyes sparkling.

"I can't believe it," Maddie said, sitting back in her chair and grinning triumphantly. "I actually beat you at your own game, Addison."

David stared at her, completely mesmerized by the sight of her—her laughter, her confidence, her excitement. Absolutely radiant.

"Yeah, well," David said, trying to sound casual but failing miserably. "Beginner's luck." He was utterly enthralled by her.

"No way. That was pure talent."

David leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table.

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah." Maddie raised an eyebrow. "Care to see me prove it again?"

"Is that a challenge?" he asked, looking at her with a teasing smile.

"You bet it is," her lips curving into a playful smirk.

David felt his breath hitch, his chest tightening as desire surged through him. All he could see, all he could feel, was her. Pulling him in like gravity. Maddie's gaze shifted, her eyes flickering to his lips for the briefest of moments, and suddenly it was as if time itself had slowed to a crawl. The crackle of the fire barely registering. The storm was still rumbling outside, but all David could focus on was the woman sitting in front of him; the woman who had been driving him crazy for years. He couldn't understand it. After everything, all the heartache, all the battles, why was he still so drawn to her. It was intoxicating. Just when he thought he was ready to give up, to finally walk away, she would do something—smile, laugh, tease, catch his gaze just so—and he'd be right back where he started. Infuriating. Caught in the orbit of Maddie Hayes, unable to break free. Then why the hell do I still want to kiss her so badly. He bore through her, annoyed with himself.

"Ow!"

Maddie's sharp scream shattered the moment. She glanced down, only to see the tiny kitten, determined and relentless, clawing its way up her pant leg. It let out an adorably fierce meow, its little paws working furiously to gain traction. The sight made Maddie burst into laughter and bent down slightly, trying to steady the wobbly furball. Another meow, and it finally managed to climb up just far enough to cling onto Maddie's lap, staring up at her innocently. David's eyes followed hers, and he couldn't suppress his own grin.

"Looks like someone's desperate for attention," he said, his voice filled with amusement. He pulled back, running a hand through his hair with a sigh, the tension between them dissipating. "Well," he said, arching his back with a stretch, weighing whether to call it a day. "Have you bruised me and abused me enough for one night, Ms. Hayes? Or are you still going for another round?"

Maddie let her gaze linger on him for a moment longer. "I can always go for another round."

David let out a quiet, familiar laugh and for a moment, all Maddie could do was watch him. A warmth spread from somewhere deep inside when she realized, with a sudden, startling clarity, how much she enjoyed this—how much she thrived on their banter. It was more than just words, more than the playful jabs and teasing remarks. It was a dance, a game they both knew the rules to, neither of them ever truly wanting to win.

Her smile softened as she took him in—the twinkle in his eyes, the way his lips curl just slightly when he was trying to hide a genuine laugh. There was no edge here, no barbed words meant to wound. They were just playing without biting, and the beauty of it is that it was reciprocal. David could give as good as he got, and he took every bit of her teasing for what it was—nothing more, nothing less.

He sees her. He always has. He reads her like a book, turning every page with care even when she's tried to keep it closed.

The memories of her younger years in Chicago surged back with brutal clarity. With a mix of bitterness and ache, she remembered the sweet, intelligent, and curious girl she once was—wanting to laugh, to have friends like everyone else. But the combination of brains and beauty, something she never asked for, made her an unsuspecting target. The sneering looks and the jealousy were like daggers, carving away at her innocence. The girls resented her, the boys ogled her, and no one saw her for who she truly was. Trapped in a cage built by others' judgments. She had honed her sharp wit into a weapon, wielding it as a shield to keep people at bay. Barbed repartee and biting remarks became her armour against the relentless tide of leering men who reduced her to nothing more than a vapid blonde. The unwanted, forceful sexual advances from fashion photographers in her modelling years. Against the women that would envy her, seeing nothing but an entitled façade. It had been a relentless, uphill battle that left her weary and isolated, until pushing everyone away felt like second nature. Why should she trust anyone? Why risk letting someone close enough to wound her? Reading became her escape, finding refuge in the world of learning where she could be more than just a pretty face—where she was valued for her mind and her heart.

Maddie thought back to John with a heaviness that never truly lifted. John. He was different from any man she'd met before. It had started so simply—she'd been rushing out of a store, keys in hand, completely oblivious to the flat tire on her car. He approached her with a calm, considerate expression, pointing it out and offering to help. She had braced herself, already assuming his chivalry would come with strings, like every other man who masked his intentions with a smile. But instead, when he finished fixing it, he simply wiped his hands on his pants, giving her a casual wave and a smile that spoke of seeing hundreds of women like her that day, and walked away. No lingering glances, no insinuating remarks—just genuine kindness.

His looks were ordinary, forgettable even. But he made her happy. Really happy. They talked endlessly—about books, movies, art, and politics. He introduced her to smoky jazz clubs where she discovered a deep love for the music, the rhythm, the life of it. On lazy Sunday mornings, they would sit with the Financial Times, both cluelessly trying to decipher stock trends and laughing at their ignorance. He once had the nerve to ask if it wasn't tiring being so beautiful, admitting he found it exhausting just looking at her. She laughed until she cried. They shared weed, moments of silliness and joy, and made love with a tenderness that made her feel cherished, not for her looks, but for who she was. For the first time, a man made her feel truly special, in a way only her father had before.

But he was gone. The plane crash stole him away, leaving nothing but ashes of him. The grief shattered her existence. She shut down, locking her emotions and her true self deep inside, shielding herself from ever experiencing that pain world saw the poised, guarded Maddie Hayes, but the woman who loved deeply, who laughed freely, had been buried with John.

And just when she had resigned herself to being the perpetual, lonesome ice queen—untouchable, isolated, and protected—David Addison had barrelled into her life.

With all his smugness and irreverence, keeping him at a good distance had seemed like the safest bet, clearly. She had tried to dismiss him, to treat him like every other man who only saw what they wanted. But he was different. Oh, he was still plenty luscious—she wasn't blind—but there was something beneath the surface, something real. The pull and the intense attraction, unmatched by anything she had experienced before.

She had never encountered a man—or anyone, for that matter—who could keep pace with her sharp wit and razor-edged retorts. But David? He not only matched her, blow for blow, but he consistently upped the ante, pushing her further, challenging her every step of the way. More often than not he would have the last word, leaving her both exasperated and somewhat exhilarated. He wasn't afraid to call her out, to put her in her place when she needed it—a rarity in her life. Most people bent to her will, but not David. He stood firm, unapologetically himself, refusing to be swayed just because she was used to getting her way. Maddie reflected on the irony—how she felt a twinge of jealousy whenever another woman was around David. She had never experienced that before. Usually, it was men being jealous over her, vying for her attention. But with him, everything was different.

He probably would have deciphered the stock market trends in the Financial Times long before she did, too. He was street-smart, cocky, and self-made. No time for the coddled and privileged. Yet, beneath the swagger and bravado was a heart of gold; a genuinely good soul. Women swooned over him, men admired him, and children adored him. Everyone seemed to love him. Even my parents are crazy about him, for goodness' sake! He was a force of nature, equal parts charm and grit, and somehow, despite everything, he had broken through her walls.

And it terrified her. He teased her, poked at her, pushed her buttons until she was ready to scream—only to then turn around and offer her that quiet, genuine touch. His forehead against hers, his eyes softening as if he could see right into her soul. And she had secretly loved it.

With him, there was no need to keep her swords drawn all the time. Sure, they'd spar, and sometimes it got messy, but she had always known that he would never truly hurt her. Not on purpose. He would take any blow for her, even when she didn't deserve it. He was the one person who refused to give up on her, no matter how many times she screwed up. A lump rose in her throat as she thought about it. How, just 24 hours ago, he had come searching for her. On a night when she was drowning, spiralling so far out of control she could barely breathe. Why? Why did he always come back for her, no matter how far she ran?

Ran—from him, from herself, from everything. Because deep down, she was afraid. Afraid of opening her heart again, of it being shattered once more, of ruining everything, of losing David forever, of letting the best thing in her life slip right through her fingers. But I already have, haven't I?

She took a deep, shaky breath, feeling the weight of her realization settle in her chest. Yes, I have. Lost him—lost what they had, or could have had—and it was all her own doing.

Away with her thoughts, she didn't notice the way David's expression had shifted. The playful smirk fading, replaced by something quieter, more uncertain. He was watching her. Sitting across from each other, holding cards and unspoken words.

Finally, Maddie looked up, her eyes meeting his. There was no banter now, no teasing.

"Your move, David."

David swallowed hard, sensing there was so much she had left unsaid. He nodded, placing another card down without breaking their gaze. In that moment, it was not about winning. It had never been.

And they both knew it.

A huge THANK YOU to the amazing maddieanddavid4ever, not only for creating the character of John but also for generously allowing me to use him in this story!