“Well,” he said mildly, his voice low and smooth and far too calm for the tension suddenly threading the air. “If noise improved odds,” he said lightly, “you’d finally win something.”
The insult slid out wrapped in politeness, and one of the other men at the table let out a quiet laugh. Another shifted, discomfort flickering across his face. The Irishman’s mouth twitched, but it wasn’t quite a smile.
I stood there with the tray balanced against my palm, wondering what exactly I’d walked into . . . and why the blond man’s voice was lingering longer than it should have. It was doing something strange to me, settling under my skin and tracing down my spine, and it wasn’t fear that I was feeling. It was something else that had no business being there.
I swallowed and cursed myself for react
