Page 17 of Shamrocks & Second Chances

“You wish.” I roll my eyes. “I just don’t like the idea of you being someone’s plaything.”

“I wouldn’t have lost,” he says with quiet confidence.

“Your arrogance knows no bounds.”

“It’s not arrogance if it’s true.” He frowns. “Besides, I had a feeling from the minute I entered that I was always supposed to win.” He shrugs. “It was just an instinct.”

I harumph to show how I feel about his instinct. I certainly didn’t have that confident assurance when we stepped into the gaming den, but I was never meant to be the one who participated in that game, so maybe that’s why.

We fall into easy banter as we walk, discussing Finnigan’s outrageous clientele and the ridiculous bets we overheard.

“Did you see that satyr betting his left horn?” Seamus chuckles.

“Not as bad as the nixie wagering her favorite reflection.”

“Fae bets are serious business,” says Hecate. “Not like you mortals with your boring money wagers.”

“Says the dog who claims to be part dragon,” I tease.

Hecate sniffs indignantly. “It’s not a claim if it’s true. My great-great-grandmother on my mother’s side breathed fire. That’s why I can turn invisible—dragon magic.”

“I thought it was because you’re tiny and good at hiding,” says Seamus with a straight face.

Hecate disappears in a huff, though I can still feel her weight in my purse.

We reach Moonwake Café all too soon. The building is dark and quiet, my apartment above waiting with its empty rooms and cold bed. I fish out my keys, suddenly reluctant to say goodnight. “Thanks for walking me home,” I say, lingering at the door.

Seamus stands too close, his presence warm in the cool night air. “Anytime.”

I should say goodnight. I should send him on his way. Instead, I hear myself saying, “Do you want to come upstairs? To look at the deck more carefully?”

He hesitates, searching my face. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

No. It’s a terrible idea. “We should examine the cards more thoroughly,” I say instead. “There might be more clues.”

He nods slowly. “Lead the way.”

My apartment welcomes us with familiar shadows. I flick on the fairy lights strung across my living room ceiling.

Seamus looks around, taking it all in. “Still warm. Inviting. A little chaotic.” His lips quirk up. “Beautiful. It’s very you.”

I set down my purse, and Hecate immediately hops out to trot to her cushion in the corner, still invisible but leaving tiny paw prints in the fabric.

I busy myself making tea, needing something to do with my hands. “Let’s look at those cards.”

We sit on the couch, the Golden Path Deck between us. Seamus spreads out the cards, and we examine each one carefully. They’re exquisite—hand-painted scenes that seem to shift subtly when viewed from different angles.

“Maeve said they show what might be.” His shoulder brushes mine as he leans closer.

I pick up a card showing two figures standing beneath a full moon. Their faces are indistinct, but something about their posture suggests intimacy. “What do you think that means?”

“Maybe they show possible futures? Paths we might take.”

I’m acutely aware of how close we’re sitting, and the warmth radiating from his body. His achingly familiar scent—earth and whiskey and magic—fills my senses.

“Bella?” he says softly.

I make the mistake of looking up. His eyes are dark with an emotion I don’t want to name. Two years of anger and hurt and longing crash over me like a wave.

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