“Smells good, lass.”
My stomach flutters, and I throw him a small smile. It’s super inconvenient to have the world’s biggest crush on my brand new boss. Can I be any more cliché?
Grabbing a cold beer from the fridge, I open it, spooning some beef stir fry and rice into a bowl, taking them both to the dining room where he is sitting at the head of the table, scrolling through something on his phone.
“Thanks, lass.”
Nodding, I place the bowl and beer before him, retreating to the quiet kitchen. There’s a small table here, so I serve up my own meal. I hesitate but shrug, grabbing a beer for myself as I drop into one of the three chairs at the small table, looking out the window across the driveway at the flowering hedge.
I’m about three bites in when Connor’s bowl lands on the table across from me, and he drops into the other chair, flashing me a grin.
“I got lonely,” he smirks, digging into his meal. “This is amazing, by the way.”
He makes a little sound of contentment in his throat as I blush with pleasure. How sad is it that I’m getting all happy because someone who is literally paying me to cook for him is complimenting my work?
Wow, it’s been too long since someone who wasn’t Low was nice to me.
“And that apple pie smellsincredible.”
I flash him a grin. “Baking is my jam.”
Connor’s smirk widens into an actual smile, and my breath catches. Holy smokes, he’s handsome.
“Be still my racing heart,” he drawls. I roll my eyes at him.
“Did your mother like to bake?” I tip my head at the kitchen cabinets. “There’s a lot of baking paraphernalia here. It’s a bit like going to a grown-up’s playground.”
Connor twists his mouth into a grin as he lets out a low, rumbling laugh that strokes over my skin, peaking my nipples. I’m so thankful I am wearing a thick sweater right now. Holy hell.
“My mammy could make this place shine.” He gestures with his fork to the room. “But cook, that woman could not.”
A fond look crosses his face. I wonder if he misses her.
“Did she move back to Ireland to be closer to family?”
It’s probably not the right thing to ask, a dark look crossing his face.
He shrugs after a beat of silence. “I’m her only family. She moved back to Ireland to get away from….”
He pauses, clearing his throat. Oh, shit. I catch what he’s implying. His mother moved back across the world to get away from the Mafia.
“Certain lifestyle factors?” I suggest helping him out of his awkward pickle. He chuckles again, eyeing me appreciatively.
“Aye, lass. Certain lifestyle factors.”
When I serve the apple pie, he points his spoon at me. “What about your parents?”
I shrug one shoulder, focusing on my pie. “My mother was a prostitute.” I keep my voice even, my eyes on my plate. “She did it to support a drug habit. OD’d a few years ago, just after I turned twenty-one. My father took off when I was little.”
There’s a beat of silence as his fingers brush lightly over the back of my hand. My breath catches, goosebumps erupting over my skin. Again, I’m thankful my sweater hides them.
“Sure, and I’m sorry to hear that, lass,” he murmurs. I nod, keeping my eyes fixed on the table. The rest of the meal is conducted in silence, staring at our plates.
Chapter Three
CONNOR
My knuckles protest as I flex my hand, accepting the tumbler of whiskey Seamus is handing me. Paddy notices the movement, frowning from where he’s perched against the windowsill in Seamus’s den.