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Connor brushes a kiss against my temple, my heart thudding loud enough that I'm surprised the rest of the table can’t hear it, and he strides across the room. I watch as he moves to talk to some of the men at the big money table.
“You’re Lucky Fitzpatrick’s woman?” a gruff voice sounds out. I blink across at the grizzly-looking graying man with the heavy Russian accent.Lucky. That’s Connor’s nickname.
My eyes slide around the room. Holy shit. Connor mustrunthis illegal gambling den. No wonder he comes here most nights. I guess the name Lucky suits him more than I realized.
I don’t know how to respond. Connor called me his lass, butI‘mnotabout to say it without permission. I shrug at the Russian bear of a man who nods to me. That’s vague enough.
“Let’s see if some of the luck of the Irish has rubbed off on you then,” he smirks, chuckles rumbling out around the table.
I swallow, feeling uneasy. I think I might be about to lose all these chips. It’s a bit much to suppose they are only pretend money. I hope they’re not worth much. I can’t afford to pay them back.
The game ends, and when Ryan does a cool throw to make cards slide and stop with unerring accuracy in front of everyone, I get two. I put in two chips, just like the men on either side of me, and stare at my cards.
A six and a four. Six of hearts, four of clubs. So I have ten then. I wonder if ten is a good number in poker. Ryan flips three cards into the middle of the table. Ace of diamonds, six of spades, six of diamonds.
Ohh, three sixes, that’s eighteen. But with my four, I have twenty-two, so I guess that’s blackjack then. Wait. No. Different game, I frown down at my cards.
Following the lead of the sharply suited guy on my right, I push another two chips towards the center. Ryan flips over a fourth card in the middle. Two of clubs.
Okay, well, if I take my twenty-two and minus two, that’s twenty, so I’m still under twenty-one. Does the Ace mean one point? Am I at twenty-one? A smug smile tugs at my lips as I peer into the middle. Two men groan, throwing their cards down onto the table, face down. What does that mean? Did they quit? Why? ShouldIquit?
The guy next to me is eyeing me carefully as he throws four chips into the middle. I’m not quitting! I push four chips in too. Once everyone has pushed all their chips in, Ryan flips over the fifth card, and it’s a four of diamonds.
Does that affect my twenty-one? I frown at the new card, darting a glance back at my cards. Sharp Suit looks smug. Around the table, everyone apart from the two men who threw away their cards starts laying their cards down, face-up on the table one at a time.
Ryan moves the cards in the middle up and down as various people show their cards and curse or grin. Sharp Suit seemsveryhappy with the cards Ryan moves for him, and two other people at the table curse.
Ryan motions to me, and I put my cards down. There’s a sharp intake of breath.
“Fuck,” Sharp Suit groans and mutters. There is some general chuckling at the table at his annoyance.
“Did you honestly think you could read the tells of Lucky’s lady?” the Russian mocks Sharp Suit, who glares at him. Ryan pushes the other two sixes and the other four up.
“Full house,” Ryan drawls, “the lady wins.”
I have no idea why he’s commenting on how many people are here tonight, but I’m the only lady at this table, so I think that means I get all the chips. Yay me! Ha. I showed them and their misogyny!
“How’re you going over here?” Connor’s voice slides over me as his hand brushes against the nape of my neck. I tip my head back to beam up at him.
“I got Blackjack, so I won!” I tell him excitedly.
There is some confused murmuring around the table, and Connor looks bemused. His eyes take in the table, and all the chips pushed toward me. His lips curl into a smile.
“You mean, you got a full house.” He points at my cards. What? I frown down at them.
“No, twenty-one,” I clarify, pointing at each card. “Three sixes are eighteen, plus four is twenty-two, less the ace, that’s one, so that’s twenty-one. I’m not sure about the other four….”
I frown at the last card Ryan flipped over as at least three men at the table choke on their drinks, Sharp Suit looks sour as all get out, and the Russian is laughing.
“That’s….” Connor looks like he’s trying wicked hard not to laugh. “That’s not how ye play poker,leannán.”
“But I won.” I pout at him, jabbing my finger at Ryan. “Hejust said, ‘the lady wins,’ so I won.”
“And so ye did,leannán,” Connor agrees with me, pointing to my cards. “Three sixes and a pair of fours is a hand called a ‘full house.’ That’s why ye won.” He studies me for a beat, amusement writ large across his face. “Ye have no idea how to play poker. D’ye lass?”
I shrug, muttering under my breath, “I still won.”
Four men at the table openly laugh, and Connor grins at me.
